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part 5: the gambler
It’s been a while since I graced this space. I came here to write of grief, and found myself in the proceeding months to be swallowed by capitalism and the day to day worries it decided to impose on me. For a few months I was happy, excited for the future and in the early stages of a romance which felt exciting and a little alien. Throughout my last encounter here, slogans of ‘fuck the tories’ echo, and the start of a genocide which rocks the world’s stability. Etonians are a wider piece connected to a dying economic system, a Ponzi scheme for the 1% and they have selfishly stolen the family silver. New masters in the east are sharpening their knives, and children die in the open concentration camp that is the Gaza Strip.
Today I wake up, newly single, with a relationship that too, was swallowed by economics. He was not necessarily my type, but to me I saw kindness in his heart and in this world of chaos I believe that to be an important trait. He romanced by giving me the nickname ‘worldie’, but he wasn’t ready to be with and part of the world. To be a club promoter in this economy is to be a gambler. The strain of the gamble cost my relationship. The timing of which, I look to the stars, ‘I thought this was going to be MY time?’. I have questioned this daily for over a month now. I grow concerned for being a Virgo rising, Libra sun and Aries moon, with a Scorpio stellium born in the 80’s, having my nodal return, and being at the mercy of the universe ‘fuck - does this mean I’m fucked forever?!’, I hope not. I pray for grace to manifest what I want. The year isn’t out yet, but I would like the universe to stop teasing me with ‘what ifs’. Him and I are friends, and maybe that is the purist love you can have.
I find myself thinking daily about how economics and sex is inherently linked. That Willhelm Reich was correct, The Sexual Revolution, and the sexual repression of the masses through religion has allowed fascists to take stand. Neoliberalism and its love for the individual has meant community is scarce, and connection is harder to find. Reichs teachings manifest in the neuroticism of Swifties. I believe Taylor Swifts audience are the mothers and daughters of purity ring culture. Speaking of Swift, she is impossible to get away from. The third space of the internet is her domain now. I was DJing a minimal house set in a Soho bar, only for a woman to request Swift’s music. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t really that kinda place’, I laughed. I turned and mouthed to the bar staff ‘what the fuck?’. Her fan base is a fever dream to me. Her music plays in every barre class I attend, and now her songs haunt me. An old flame, a yearning, for a friend. Perhaps I understand her a little considering the subject matter, and that I now feel vindicated for not throwing myself at Casanova when I had the chance. A brief encounter of many moments, which ended with us both standing in the rain, soaked and a cab ride. Chemistry but no action, gossip but no result, and a wish to have a taste, just once.
Saturday 27th April 2024
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part 4: maps
As I’m writing this I’m listening to the sublime ‘Maps’ by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. It’s a song that carries a certain nostalgia to it, reminding me of a time when I was just coming of age, the last time the node’s of the moon were in Taurus, whilst chaos was all around me. It’s a beautiful song, and for years it graced the video channels, rock clubs and alt-pubs, soundtracking a time post 9/11 where life was still coming to terms that perhaps our 90s bubbles were a dream. Maps is, me, the teenager on the verge of adulthood, discovering substances and having a taste for them, and how scary everything was at the time. Maps is that dusty London summer heat which is still and strangles the breath out of the air. My first introduction was whilst I was sitting on the steps of Haverstock Hill, with my then neighbour and friend Louis. He handed their record ‘Fever To Tell’, the plastic slightly shattered in corners and the ‘most sorry for itself’ looking gatefold, the record had clearly been used as a coaster and covered in weed crystals. “you should listen to this” he said, coupled with another record peeping behind. Another early noughties classic, The Libertines ‘Up The Bracket’. A year or two later, Maps would tinker through the TV at 5am in a YMCA in New York on an art trip. I remember with terrible jet lag, how I suddenly reached for my Nokia 3310, to see if my then boyfriend had reached out. Only for my heart to sink, realising he had ignored me and this being the first experience of knowing your partner is pulling away. The words ‘wait, they don't love you like I love you’ echoed as I shed a few tears wishing I could go back to sleep.
My sisters mother in law passed the other day, and with any death I think back to all the times of grief. Grief has this way of shaping you, it's an absolute. My grandmother’s passing shaped me especially. I don’t believe we realise that the media we are surrounded by become a time capsule. Everything from the songs soundtracking that time, to the scent of a favorite perfume, clutches onto your memory. Only for a ghost, be that a scent that seems familiar, or a track comes on randomly for you to transport to that time. Maps was part of the soundtrack where I first experienced womanhood, grief, love and heartbreak. The only consistent I have from that time is my own family.
When my sister announced to me of the Kim’s passing, she ended the message with ‘time is precious and family is golden’. Time moves so fast you blink and yes, you do miss it. How can you know that it might be the last time you see somebody or that you only get that one chance, one moment, and then it drifts by? They then, like Maps, become ghosts, memories drifting in time and every so often, I’ll be reminded by magic fm at 2am in an uber, or Glastonbury footage and I’ll cry watching Cat Stevens as i’m reminded of my grandmother and her love for his music. Tears for a time, a soul, a moment. How wonderful music touches us so deeply.
Monday 17th July 2023
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part 3: my north star
I woke up today feeling that emotion that can only mean my time of the month is near. Like an overwhelming wave of feeling, that even my coffee is a cup filled with sorrow. It’s a mix of despair and anxiety, and a want to just cuddle and be near to another soul. One thing I miss when I’m single, is that human closeness and whenever I connect with somebody I always think of how grateful I am to be close to somebody for just a few moments. How I long to have that again.
I had my destiny matrix read recently, and it said that powerful magic in a past life time meant I came into this life having the repercussions of my souls past actions. Whether I asked a witch to do the magic for me or I did, or according to a tarot reader, another soul placed this magic on me. I do wonder if its real, only because it might explain the weird coincidences where I have struggled previously in relationships. How do I move this karma? Is this karma coming to an end?
I have an altar for Venus, and I wear an Aphrodite around my neck and I feed birds, especially my pigeons. I have a wood pigeon, and two pigeon couples, one of them with white speckle feathers. All beautiful, all with distinct personalities. I do this because I love animals, but also I hope it helps my love karma as pigeons and doves are birds of venus. Plus birds seem to always want to nest near my flat, like a true disney princess.
I then spent the morning having a conversation with a family friend who I grew up with, who then told me she worked with Jeff Buckley. My morning of despair turned into a morning discussing my North Star. Jeff will always be that, and I have searched for him in people since I was a teenager. I recently purchased a North Star ring, encouraged by my mother, who then said when I placed in onto my hand ‘see, you’ve got your own North Star now’.
Jeff’s music has always had such a profound effect on me and I always felt we had loads in common. I can hear all the influences from Led Zep to Patti Smith to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. I never knew until recently that he sang in Urdu, and I felt that I could relate in the same way to my love of the late, great, Indian singer Lata Mangeshkar. The fact he was also, like I am, born to musicians. He wasn’t really interested in being a front man himself either, but that fate pushed him into become one and how he writes like a fellow venus in scorpio. His deep longing, intensity in his writing. He was a sublime artist who never lost his vision. I hope that today, I can write and create from a place like my North Star, and I hope everybody finds their own inspiration like I have.
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part 2. sliding doors
Sometimes through the twist of fate, we can merely miss somebody in seconds. I often wonder if fate really exists, or are we masters of our own destiny, or is it a bit of both?
Last weekend I managed to bump into old friends, lovers and miss a person I have been wanting to reconnect with by seconds. Most of the day I felt overwhelmed, which considering what I do for a living, I find being in crowds and seeing a high number of people I haven't seen in a while very intense. I hardly ate, nursed a few drinks, and wished I had something else, a ‘crutch’ to calm me down. I had to remember that those ‘days’ are behind me now, and I was proud I didn’t reach for a crutch, and was taking my time with alcohol. Feeling exposed and within myself, this was the first big event where I was really seeing everything through the lense of thinking ‘this is my ADHD playing up’ (I have been recently diagnosed through our wonderful NHS). Hyper aware of every interaction, reading in between the lines, drifting in small talk and trying to stay present. What question can I ask, how can I interact and not be so quiet, how can I not smother a conversation? The mental gymnastics is tiring, and I refuse to show up as anybody else now. Throughout the day, I asked the angels for guidance and thought ‘okay universe lets see what you got’.
After a wonderful day and evening, connecting to others and generally calming down by this point, it was time to go home. I spent a cab journey home thinking about the movie Sliding Doors, and discussing fate with my uber driver. How can you bump into somebody you haven’t seen in 13 years, how can you miss others, how people drift in and out of your life, is there a purpose, a big ‘plan’? Some of the most profound conversations I’ve had have been when sitting in the back of a cab and talking to the cabbie. Chats about life, love, work, politics, music, god, spirituality. Total strangers, sharing a conversation of about 20 minutes, never to be seen again. There is something so magical about that. My cabbie was a man of god, attends church, and he said that god being all knowing, always has a ‘plan’. He suggested that the secret is to keep trying, that god places tests sometimes, to never give up on what you want, that fate also requires action, and I think I agree.
5th July 2023
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part 1. the fragility of life
I woke up to sad news about a member of my family in law, whose cancer has deteriorated their body so rapidly and how they’ve been given a week to live. I spent the morning shedding tears and thinking with great sadness about her family, how they are coping, how cruel and fragile life can be and how fast things can change. My thoughts go to her daughter, who is 13 and how I can't possibly understand how confusing and scared she must be feeling. A girl on the eve of womanhood losing their mother, it's just utterly heartbreaking. I think to how my in-law must be feeling and thinking, what are her thoughts whilst she prepares for this finality that we all must meet someday. Is she scared? Is she in pain?
It’s times like this, where I question ‘god’, my faith in spirituality wanes. Why is life so terribly cruel? How can we, as a ‘soul having a human experience’, weather such hardship that which we cannot control? Why do we feel sometimes at the mercy of the gods? Why does religion justify hardship and death like it's something to be celebrated? To celebrate life is one thing, but I would rather a young girl had her mum.
Do I believe in heaven? I’m not an atheist anymore, but I’m certainly spiritual. I find myself in temples and churches, often in awe in the wondrous spaces and quiet contemplation. I often, when experiencing troubled times, or I’m in need of a pause, I will sit in my church next door and I’ll light a candle for those who have passed or who are in my thoughts. I believe my loved ones who have passed on, guide me daily. It warms my heart that sometimes I look to my dog, who I believe is an earth angel, was sent to me by my dog-loving grandmother (who loved dachshunds). My grief for her never went, and I am quick to turn on the water works as soon as I speak about her.
Today, I find myself thinking about death, the moments before, life and how short and precious it is, and about the family and friends around a person experiencing this precipice.
3rd July 2023
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a new chapter
Today is a Buck Moon, and it’s a Monday, the date is July 3rd 2023. My life can be a whirlwind at times, and I try to find meaning in the bizarre adventures I find myself in.
Many years ago, I loved my Tumblr and spent hours writing, sharing thoughts, posting what inspired me. This was during a time of great turmoil and heartbreak which left me feeling like a ghost after the experiences of adulthood. I guess I wanted to start a new Tumblr, with my new name, showcasing everything I have learnt and to share my experiences in the hope of connecting to others. I wanted to show that somebody too can overcome adversity, and begin again, to rise like a phoenix, and to alchemise your experiences like I have. I also wanted to have a safe space where I can be vulnerable, to showcase my new journey, my art, and to learn and grow with you, and felt this the best place to be.
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