The Best Husband Ever

I have also published this as a short ebook to go with the rest of the Best Ever Series, you will find them all on Smashwords, but in case you cannot be bothered downloading, here it is as a blog post.  It was written to this music, so you may find it beneficial to turn on the video before reading it.



He’s like a total gentleman.” Erica blushed slightly as she gushed about her new husband. “He takes out the trash, I never have to fill the dishwasher, he takes real time with the kids.” Julia, Erica’s sister, looked sceptical.

It doesn’t exactly fit with what I’ve read about Sam Redwood.” What happened to all the girls?”

Oh, he’s left all that behind him. He’s really just into work now.”

Well I guess the great thing about misogynists is that they don’t really understand equality, so you can easily just role play your way through almost any situation.” Julia, the feminist in the family, smirked slightly as she adjusted her turtle-neck sweater in the mirror.

Oh no, Sam loves women.”

Yeah, I heard on his last podcast.” Julia had suffered listening to Sam giving his delta-male opinions on fascinating subjects such as the quality of breasts on starlets way out of his reach in an effort to please the interviewer, who had sounded unphased by his efforts. Julia was of the opinion that Erica was being had, but she stuck to dropping heavy hints rather than upset her more feminine sister.

Erica stared at her sister, unblinking. “I only know what he’s like with me.” She was aware that she was wailing slightly. “He even slowed down for me this morning, on our run.”

Yeah? That was big of him.” Julia, who actually got on slightly better with Sam than Erica, gave her sister a withering look. “Just make sure that pre-nup is breakable.”

Oh no, we are so happy, we will be married forever.” Erica twiddled the beads dangling from her throat. “He is like so cool. I got a big parcel of stuff to make more macrame with this week. He really cares about my problems, ya know? He even switches his smartphone off sometimes.”

Yeah great.” Julia was now very bored with this conversation. “Let’s go, we are going to be late for yoga.”

Sam, meanwhile, was attending to his business marketing his forthcoming event in Canada on the computer. He had so far latched onto a performance artist from Toronto. He had become mesmerised by her thumbnail photograph on Facebook, which showed her in a rather tight PVC corset.

Goofy, you seem a little goofy.” he tried “Can you answer your direct messages?” The girl had failed to realise she was talking to Sam, as she was only eighteen. “Wanna chat?” She continued to ignore him, rather frustratingly. Sam was keen to present his accessibility in this particular case.

Irritated, he turned to an older woman, who seemed a little more savvy. Although she knew it was him, she wanted to talk about herbs, which seemed rather tiresome. Sam sighed and looked at the rest of the fans commenting on his page. None of them seemed relevant to this particular campaign. Tired of this game, he turned to the bug on his window sill. He suppressed the urge to crush it, instead waving it out of the window. Nobody was watching, but he was not sufficiently irritated to express his American masculinity in traditionally violent fashion. He decided to fill the dishwasher. Maybe Erica might want to make some babies later if she didn’t have too much to do. He might even ask her what she wanted to make for dinner later, if he remembered!

Sam dimly remembered doing all this for himself, but it wasn’t his job now, he reasoned. Getting married was the most sensible decision he had made. It freed up so much time for more hook-ups, and more kids were always welcome. Now that he had reversed his vasectomy, he was the proud father of 27. He guessed he needed a bigger house. He settled down to some online porn, and worked on his lymphatic drainage.

Erica, pleasantly stretched from the yoga, was looking forward to trying some macrame. She could make a plant pot holder, maybe a chair eventually. She noted the neatly trimmed lawn as she walked up the path, and entered the house, feeling pleased as she looked at the cleared kitchen. Sam was so considerate!

What do you think we should have for dinner, darling?” Sam cocked his head to one side, smiling fondly at his lovely wife.

I was thinking of some quinoa?” Erica moved towards the fridge.

That would be lovely, darling.” Sam breathed a sigh of contentment as the little woman prepared his dinner. He went back to the computer to see if he could find any more Canadians to attend his event. He was in luck, a hot little girl from Montreal was on his page. He quickly chose an account to give her some encouragement. “I’m heading out after dinner, honey.”

OK.” Erica couldn’t really say no, he had been working so hard all day. He really was the best husband ever.

They ate together, gazing across the table. Sam was aware of being bored out of his mind, but it was tolerable for the sake of domestic bliss. He would be seeing his business manager, a lady of only 40, that he had known for twenty years after dinner. Erica could only think of what a perfect life they had.

Is that a new sweater?” Sam smiled. “It’s really lovely. You know you look great in green. I love you.”

Ooooh I love you too. Yes, I got it at the market. I’m going to do some macrame tonight.”

That’s marvellous, darling. I gotta go. I shouldn’t be too late.” Sam got up from the table with some relief at the thought of getting out. He bent down to kiss Erica and headed for the door.

Erica cleared the table, washed the floor, cleaned down the fridge and the surfaces, saw to their daughter and settled down to learn some macrame, blissfully unaware of Sam’s appointment.

Some hours later, Sam pulled his trousers back on and thanked Kiki for her time. “Do you think it would be OK if we tried something a little different next week? A little, ya know, darker?”

Kiki nodded silently. She had known for years that conversation with Sam was somewhat limited, and therefore pointless. She was unsure how his marriage was working, but she was relieved that he had found someone that hadn’t become bored with him. That had always been a worry, since Sam only seemed to have one distant, superficial speed. That wasn’t to say it was a bad thing. Kiki had had a taste for promiscuous men for years, and was aware that platitudes were a good weapon if you didn’t really want to engage beyond the physical. It had not worked well for Sam’s relationships however, so Kiki and the rest of the stable had breathed a sigh of relief that Erica seemed to be just as skilled at empty conversation as he was. She watched as Sam crushed a beetle on her floor and clenched his fist. Something different at last. Sam often seemed like a coiled spring, perhaps something a little darker indicated some actual passion.

As Sam left the apartment building to return home, a small child tried to ask him for the time.

No.” Sam swept past the child and moved away. He checked his smartphone. The pesky Dr Cedar was trying to message him again. Some time-wasting bullshit, nothing to do with money. What a waste of time! She seemed to be saying she had several years of work she wanted to discuss. What use was that to him? It wouldn’t sell any health food. He sneered as he blocked her. Probably just wanted to talk shit, like the rest of them.

He checked his fan page for any potential Canadian hotties, and decided it was time to go home.

How has your day been, darling?” Sam had allocated fifteen minutes to listen to his wife, as he had read somewhere that this was a big part of the male-female divide and an important part of being the best husband ever.

You’re such a good listener, Sam.” Erica blinked.

Wanna go to bed, baby?”

Dr Kira Cedar had been trying to talk to Sam for weeks. She had been working on a slightly whacky piece of ecological economics, tracing the history of marketing and food politics in the course of explaining how the general public’s lives had been misled to the point of mainstream consumption, mainstream illness, and mainstream chemical cures. She could not understand why he only wanted to talk bullshit. She had tried to cultivate Sam, since she and Sam had seemed to get on rather well since their fortieth. Sam, however, only seemed to want to pretend to be a variety of different people and talk nonsense, so it was taking rather a long time.

Finding herself blocked, she realised that she would never be able to cope with interacting with anyone, never mind the public. If people liked reading rubbish, how would she ever persuade them to read her book? She had wanted Sam to use the information, since it was an upgrade of what he was doing and would probably ensure global fame. What had she done? Did Sam only like stupid people?

As Kira had taken up this project because she was effectively trapped at home taking care of her mother, she was not in a position to be presenting anything, nor did she want to. What use was the book, if nobody would read or talk about it? She had nobody else to discuss it with?

Falling into a deep depression, Kira abandoned her work and took up sewing. She became quite famous for it. The research festered in a drawer. Kira became lonely. Her friends fell away as they were aware that this melancholy had begun with the Sam incident. Her confidence waned. She stopped leaving the house.

Sam had seen her videos, he didn’t understand it. She had seemed interesting, to the point of becoming a slight manic obsession for a few weeks, but why was she so upset? She must be insane.

Thank God he was married. At least he knew those rules.


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The Quest for Quality

The Quest for Quality

Today I am considering the matter of quality.  As I have previously written, perfection is for failures and people who don’t try.  Today I want to consider the matter of finding your degree of excellence and reaching for that.

If you wish, you can check out my work so far.  You will notice that the work for David Wolfe is more experimental and less perfect than some of my previous work, and that the colours are fairly vibrant, depending on my mood at the time.  There are also a lot of word games involved, and a fair bit of whimsy.

I now look at this work and think it is intermediate.  This is no reflection on Wolfe, I was really seeking to demonstrate the time wasted on pointless emotion whilst creating something new out of this wasted time.  I do not like waste.  Having feelings for somebody I don’t know is a waste, therefore something had to be created.  Between the books and the pieces of artwork I have spent a lot of time on Wolfe.  It was something that I never thought I would actually get done, so I am kind of grateful for the misery.

You don’t get to seek quality unless you take a risk on your experiments, if you are trying out something new.  Therefore in order to be a master of your new direction, you have to be prepared for lemons.  I will probably sell these off at less than their value once I hit my true pitch.  I will put out the Boris collection next year probably, which is rather different and more British/rural than the Wolfe stuff, and then perhaps work on some of the more advanced Wolfe pieces if I have not found a new point of interest by then.  I think the Mrs Wolfe piece of work is likely to take up most of the next two years, as it involves a lot of changes of habit which really need to be permanent at this point.

In terms of my own public speaking, I have put out a lot of very raw readings on youtube, which I am not happy with.  My justification for this was that I don’t have a lot of time, and the audio versions are really just to get more thumbnails of my artwork onto people’s screens.  I do not think this is a good reason to put out half-assed recordings.  I think I should redo the lot and start an audio channel elsewhere to make the most of the time spent.

It is really up to you what level you want to end up pitching at.  As I was discussing earlier in the month, your popular online writers often expect to put out several articles a day on their chosen topic, therefore the weight of content and level of information dispensed is likely to be quite low.  This is more digestible, acceptable and attracts more interest, but if you are not happy to put out pulp, you might want to consider condensing your material and drawing from it later, in the same manner that I have done with the original book.  I have not really used the material, but I think I probably should as it is quite interesting work.

I wanted to be the Lalique or Tiffany of carpets, therefore I am less than halfway to my goal.  I am happy with the extent of the Wolfe phase development, but I think I could take it a lot further.  That is more about me than him,  I could get serious but I was so ashamed of having human feelings for a long time that I kind of feared taking it further.  I will see if my personal reinvention on the Mrs Wolfe project improves this somewhat. (for those not quite understanding this, I had this picture in my head of what I would have to look like to stand next to Wolfe, and I am now laughingly thinking I should shoot for it for the sake of my health, even if she is a monstrous bitch!)

I am considering attending Wolfe’s event in a niqab.  This would certainly solve the smiley problem and not be at all distracting.  I will see how I feel later next month.  I could do with the stimulation for the sake of the game also, since I am currently relying on American reports of his events for information, and this is unlikely to be strictly true in the UK, since he is in more of the upper-middle delusion (too posh for Icke) market here.

The horrible meeting is tomorrow.  I may just avoid it altogether.


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Status Seeking

Status Seeking

I had a very lucid kind of dream this morning, featuring an ex-boyfriend I would rather forget.

I have had this dream before, if you are into dream interpretation, you may have some fun with this:

I am in a coffee shop in a holiday town. I decide to buy a piece of their super expensive white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake for my mother, as it is apparently the stuff of legend. Notice that I have no intention of actually having any myself, as apparently this is important to the dream. A fight breaks out in the coffee shop as the punters are aware that I have a slice of it.

I then return to my job as a chef in a large and rather industrial kitchen, where I work for a head chef that has considerably less knowledge and experience than I do. Nevertheless I am aware of feeling quite happy as I dodge the Victorian pipes and other workers in the course of doing whatever it is that I am doing there.

After a lot of exploring the staff accomodation, which appears to be a rabbit warren, I come back to work and go through the wrong door into the public area, which is in the form of a bar. My ex, who was Raymond Blanc’s head chef many moons ago, is standing teaching a small crowd of rather daft looking people how to make sandwiches. He is waving his arms around and pretending that this is very complex, and of course with a French accent, it sounds rather more technical than putting cheese and lettuce between slices of pan bread.

He sees me, stops and then tries to belittle me. I am aware that he is jealous that I am allowed in the kitchen and he is not. This relates to reality, as when we were together he was jealous that I was getting better jobs than he was on the grounds that I was a)cheaper b)more flexible c)not famous d)unlikely to stab anyone.

To me, this dream is all about status. I have actively avoided status throughout my life. I like responsibility, but I have no interest in status. I am not sure why this is? I am very keen on seeking knowledge, I am happy to work to gain even small amounts of that, but status is not of interest.

Not only has this seriously affected my income, it has been rather sad in that I spend a lot of time thinking that people are not terribly competent. Competence certainly doesn’t relate to success, as far as I can see, at least not as much as wanting status really badly.

The cheesecake issue is about quality of care. My mother has no regard for my well-being, she has actually said as much, however she literally gets the best of everything, even whilst she complains about it. I tend to think this is her idea of having fun, since her life is rather limited. The fight in the coffee shop is people who would rather she did not have this care because they arent getting any. Therefore I think this part is me worrying about aging and how my life is going to end up as a result of caring for her.

The kitchen work element is about resolving this resistance to status, and wondering if knowledge acquisition really matters at this point in my life, since nobody is interested in knowledge anymore.

Rene turning up is likely to be about becoming a greedier and more forceful person, as Rene suffered from a kind of enforced narcissism as a result of his more genuinely narcissistic mother. I actually felt quite sorry for him even as he stamped all over my life for his own gain.

I do wonder if I have been chasing Wolfe for years because of this fear of status and willingness to drown in work for the joy of doing it. If it recovers my health, so much the better but I am a rather disruptive child when I want to know something.

I am thinking that Mrs Wolfe, the fictional character that I am creating, will not be complete by October and that I would be better to complete this project and write about it rather than bother to speak to him. To hell with the original book, nobody cares about the planet or their own welfare anyway, even the people that pretend that they do.

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Hounded by the fictitious Mrs Wolfe

Hounded by the fictitious Mrs Wolfe

She has tired me out today. She insisted on a 3 hour trip to the hairdresser, which I have never done in my life. I look very different, but I notice, because I am actually looking people in the eye, that they are viewing me more positively.

I have never considered just letting my whackiest thoughts guide what I am doing before. This is a queer sort of fun. Progress so far is a weight loss of 36lb, radical new hair and two almost nice items of clothing.

Pending radical decisions include completely changing the way I dress – I tend to wear men’s clothes. Not sure I will let her away with that one as for one thing, it is very expensive, and for another, it is over-egging the pudding to wear women’s clothing when your breasts could easily knock someone out regardless of what you wear.

Now I am to walk sixteen miles a day. I am tired just thinking about this. Two weeks ago I would have said a swift no way to that one as it would have involved intense pain. Today I am just thinking – yeah maybe next week. This week I might do five. If you don’t like it that is too bad, Mrs W.

It is probably time to start work on the next book whilst I slowly work on these games. I also have a very unpleasant meeting about my mother coming up next week. Mrs W can take care of that I think.

In the meantime I shall just have another look at this weird hair she gave me.

She does have moderately good taste, I guess, for a crazy person.

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The Best Romance Ever explained


I have been asked for an explanation of Best Romance Ever, as it breaks every rule of the romance genre. Here are the rules of romance, from Elizabeth Grayson, although you will find I have broken every rule of every romance ever.

1) the readers care about the characters.
2) the readers identify with the heroine.
3) the readers fall in love with the hero.
4) the readers believe that the hero and heroine are convincingly united at the end of the book.

  1.  I don’t think either Sam or Kira are particularly appealing characters.  One writer that had a look at Best Scandal Ever found the fact that Kira was fat and had a lot of boyfriends unbelievable due to her own weird hangups.  They are interesting, but not particularly heart wrenching people.  Another early comment was that referring to Sam as a womanizer was an insult.  I replied at the time that it was descriptive.  Sam is not a bad person at all, he just likes women, preferably briefly.
  2. See above.  Kira is a weirdo, who would rather hide in her house than attempt to disengage with her feelings.  She uses them elsewhere as impetus to do other things.
  3. Sam is not the sort of guy that anybody sensible would fall in love with.  His entire life is devoted to avoiding such encumbrances.  The only reason he nearly achieves romance is to improve his status.
  4. Sam and Kira do not end up together at the end of the book. Quite the reverse. It is a comedy of manners, in which their respective nationalities plays a huge role.  Kira is shy and completing a project, regardless of money or status, whilst Sam is very keen to be seen as very successful.  This gives you a further insight into their characters, and is a development on Best Scandal Ever, which posits Sam as a business genius, whilst Kira is a faintly evil academic/artist who doesn’t care about people, money, or anything much apart from Sam, whom she wants nothing to do with.

So, although the principle of romance is there, there is no actual romance.  All it establishes is a link between the characters, in the form of his turning up at the music festival when he is upset about the failure to sustain his romance with the famous actress.  In terms of the series, it makes perfect sense, but in terms of the rules of romance, it is entirely rule breaking.

Nevertheless, men have particularly enjoyed the book, as it explains a lot about women.  That nagging old fuck standing in your kitchen loves you very much, in fact, she is just busy maintaining your preferred level of boring old life.  Love is not necessarily about flowers and pretty things.  Sometimes it is about being extremely tough and withholding affection for wider reasons.

Some men, Sam included, misunderstand this as being stuck in a rut, or hen-pecked.  So, for the more intelligent male reader it gives a measure of insight into why you would still be madly in love after thirty years, yet having a relatively grim day to day life.  Best Romance Ever is my attempt to capture why your relationship unit may look shaky, but actually be performing extremely well.

There is a measure of almost autistic denial about Kira.  She has little to no self-confidence, but I have forced her into situations where she copes remarkably well.  She is horrified by her feelings about Sam, and yet flogs her dead horse persistently throughout the books.  This in itself is more romantic than the average romance, since she has no expectations at all and does not forsee anything good or positive coming out of her feelings.

Sam, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware, and even if he was aware, would choose to ignore it, or brand Kira as insane.

Best Adventure Ever, the game in production at the moment, expands on this.  Players selecting Sam as their character will get a very different experience, expressed through food choices and choices of date, than players selecting Kira and her choices of date.  The romantic element between them is still there, however this piece of work is created around them rather than about them.  It is really a piece about the quality of your relationships, how your looks impact/do not impact on your life experience, and how happy you end up as a result.  It is also a comment about men and women generally, since Sam and Kira exemplify the ‘inny/outy’ nature of genitalia itself.

Finally, the pieces of work relating to Sam and Kira are about people who despise convention.  The one thing that Sam and Kira share is that they have no real interest in conformity.  If I ever put them together, I am sure their adventures together would be just as interesting, because of their opposing perception of the world around them.

I would argue that the Best Romance Ever is as the title suggests because there is no concluding ‘happy ever after.’  The Best Romance Ever, is a period of endless negotiation, therefore it is infinite.


Still free at this location – The Best Romance Ever


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Twitter netiquette and the power of delusion

I am not all that fascinated by having large numbers of followers – I appreciate that it is important if you want to be successful but I do not think I am in that kind of market. I also find it hard to care much about crap memes and bullshit clickbait, so most of my fake followbacks are muted.

I got a message today requesting that I take a photo showing that I had switched on notifications so that a 17 year old ‘could follow me back’ – as far as I know he followed me so this was some sort of threat – anyone who uses twitter for any length of time surely knows to use unfollower tools, which are themselves faster than taking pics of notifications, so I am not sure how this policy is going to work out for him?

Am I exceptionally lucky to have been young before the internet, so that this crap just doesn’t matter? This dude has 13.5k followers, and has apparently deluded himself into thinking that this makes him important.

Speaking of delusion, I finally got around to linking up the new(ish) website to google analytics today. I keep delaying things if anybody or anything needs looking after, because apparently I prefer to over-compensate for my perfectly normal personality by doing things for other people. Ina has died a horrible death as a result, and I am not sure if she can be revived. Perhaps things will improve once I complete the games. The tenth laptop of the last year has just died, so I am investing in two this time to proceed with that. (long story, but I cannot sew next to my mother anymore, so I am kind of irate with the world. From 50k unique visitors last year, Ina is getting barely 12 visitors a month according to google.

I also looked up Wolfe’s itinerary for the year, and I see that October is the last time I am likely to be able to afford to go and pay my dubious respects for the next three years. I am too huge to do this, even if I could leave my mother for 24 hours, however even the thought that I might has caused me to drop 2lb per day for the last four days.

Rather than dwelling on how crazy this seems, I am astonished that stress really does make you that fat. When my friend was still around, I was not losing weight at all, and I am not doing anything different at present. I look younger, the weight is suddenly plummeting, and apart from the persistent lump in my chest, presumably anxiety since my mother is still at risk, I feel a lot less like dying.

This tendency to put things off in favour of other people will be familiar to a considerable number of people with a weight problem. Abusing somebody for being fat, then, effectively makes them fatter as they become progressively less important and more likely to hide from the world. Eating badly then follows because who is looking and who cares?

So, remember – social media is not real life, nobody’s opinion matters and you should not take care of everybody else at the expense of yourself. If you aren’t there, your caring for others means nothing.

I will not be going to see Wolfe, despite it being probably the last time that there is a point in even trying to see Wolfe, because my experience tells me that I will be very disappointed and probably ignored. I may play with the idea for the sake of losing a large and rapid amount of weight, but I will never be thin enough or whatever-it-is-he-thinks-he-wants enough for it to be worthwhile.

So, another chapter in the epic saga of Wolfe Ina Disguise closes without an ending. That is far better than achieving closure, when it is so self-defeating and ultimately miserable. Besides, he makes me crazy within 30 seconds of starting the pitch. A dab of me in there would be sooooooo much better. Just a thin one though.

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Once upon a time, a man was accused of horrific crimes by his family.  His wife left him, after telling over a hundred people of his plight, and went off with someone else.

Then he met someone else, whom he pretended to like in order to avoid being alone.  When he told her of the problems with his family, she realised she had to decide whether he was guilty or not, despite not knowing him for terribly long.  After due consideration, she decided that he was not guilty of the crimes, and despite him being very difficult, remained as his friend and helped him as best she could.

In the course of this ‘relationship’, ostensibly due to stress, he poured two pints of boiling water over her and repeatedly headbutted her shouting ‘You’re stupid, you’re stupid’ a lot.  She ended up in hospital.

Oddly, she still kept in touch after this, as he was under intense pressure at the time.  It was not until he did something similar to his sister that she realised that she had been used to rehearse the second attack.

Several years later, when as she knew, he turned out to be innocent he returned to her life.  She was trying to repair her damaged health at the time.  An on-again -off-again friendship ensued, during which he attacked her again.  He was suffering from PTSD by this time, and had poor health due to the earlier trauma.

She, in the meantime had taken care of her parents, and as her family was also abusive, did not go out.  He was the only person that she saw, since there was nobody she could trust at all.  She was so lonely, in fact, that she fell in love with a random stranger that she had met online.  Her other friends, in the meantime, had decided that she was mad to be in love with the stranger, he could not possibly be interested in her and she had always been a bit weird anyway, since she did not share their low self-esteem and yet did not appear to need other people as much as they did.

So, the man decided, he must take revenge on her.  So, he turned up at her home when she was very upset about the random stranger, and announced that he would do as he pleased and bring food that she did not want into the house.

This happened twice.  She had already asked him not to bring any more food, and he did it again.  In tears, she asked him again.  He laughed at her.

She stood in the kitchen weeping.  She knew this was another assault, but she did not know why.  He was, as usual very tense so she knew she either had to let him play out this scene or she had to physically remove him, which could prove difficult in front of her sick mother.  She also knew that she had nobody at all to talk to, and so she let him get on with it.

Over the months that followed, she often noticed his sneer as he watched her eat and grow fatter and fatter, and wondered what all this was in aid of?  He kept bringing it up, over and over again as if his behaviour was not his responsibility at all.  Because he had picked food as an issue, he imagined he could do this and insist that everything he had done was her fault.

When she finally confronted him and requested the reason why he would do these things, whether he thought her life was easy, he simply said:

I did not consider you at all.


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Mindfulness and my male brain


Apparently the latest in marketing bullshit involves introducing stressed men to the concept of mindfulness.  Mindfulness, as it turns out, appears to be the new word for meditation, or as my friend would say ‘switching everything off and concentrating on thinking about nothing.’

Personally, when I need to make space for extended periods of military ‘regrouping,’ I make something.  Depending on how complicated the (usually emotional) issue is, it can take from two to six months to figure out.  Switching off involves creating something.

I find the idea of making nothingness a thing a bit ridiculous to be honest, I prefer a good blow-out in the form of tantrum, followed by activity of some kind.  This may seem ridiculous, since I am not really achieving anything these days, but there it is.  I apparently believe relaxation is time-wasting.  This, according to these articles, is my male brain talking, however I have never noticed a particularly negative gender divide when it came to meditation.  It is second only to yoga for people who like getting touchy feely with relative strangers.

Speaking of time-wasting, I have declined the Microsoft contract and am working on the games instead.  It took only three hours before I realised what a huge mistake I was making in terms of potentially giving up twenty hours a week to do a job comparing search engine results instead of building up Ina.  There are a couple of other companies interested, so we will see if they have something less tedious on offer.

I spent years doing terrible jobs, I have nothing to show for it apart from some pretty mediocre memories.  The only thing that has been good about my current predicament is that I have had time to do other things.

So, today I went to university and sorted out my campus passes to renew my research for the Boris book.  I resigned, in true prisoner style, and I drank a lot of supermix.  The supermix appears to have removed the giant emotional lump in my chest, which meant that I was weeping rather a lot last night.  It is as big a mystery to me as anyone why thinking about Wolfe, even briefly, causes such grief.

I imagine it is similar to a former friend, who told me that he could not grieve for his grandparents, but became hysterical over some baby mice that failed to survive two months later.  The difference in this case, is that I am grieving for my sick family, lost potential and lack of power to do anything about it as long as I am the best option for taking care of my mother. I am terrified to leave her side at the moment as we have been under such scrutiny for the last couple of months.

I also purchased some Gynostemma pentaphyllum and some rosehip, with a view to promoting some AMPK.  Since I cannot afford the extracts, we shall see if the combination helps with promoting youthful cell renewal.  Nearly bought some Griffonia seed, but I think it can wait a while as my problem appears to be low dopamine rather than low seratonin. I am quite the fan of Durk and Sandy.



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About thinking positively

I have to be honest with you, memes like this drive me insane.  Especially with that stupid name tagged at the bottom of it.

Let me tell you a story about positive thinking, and how complicated it gets.

If you particularly want the background to this story, I am sure there are plenty previous posts on it, but to cut the preamble very short:

Seven years ago I was huge, even bigger than I am now.  I was extremely ill and I have an old video somewhere of my sounding rather drunk, although I had stopped drinking several years before.  That is how damaged my liver was.

One of the old boyfriends, that I had been very fond of at 16 or so when he went off with someone else, randomly decided that he wanted to see me.  I panicked, as he had posted a picture of himself at 18 online and I assumed that like me, he looked pretty much the same apart from weight.

So, I decided to create a database of health options for losing weight and solving the health problem, still undefined, that was causing me to be exhausted, covered in psoriasis, enormous and basically struggling with my workload, which at the time, since it was just after my father, best friend, and uncle’s deaths, was considerable.

I had created an exhibit for Patrick McGoohan online, and his family had been kind enough to acknowledge it, which was basically all I had going for me at the time.

In the course of researching my database, I came across Wolfe, and as I worked on my exhibit, laughed over several of his videos.  The database then transformed into an academic treatise on how obesity became desirable to Western economies, how much you are manipulated emotionally into following standard behavioural pathways, and how to rebel with a view to a more ecologically friendly version of capitalism. Naturally I assumed that Wolfe would be interested in this.

When I went to his facebook page, I was surprised to find him actually on it.  Over the next several weeks I was warily cheered up somewhat (I won’t go into it, but he can be very entertaining in his own way) It got me through an extremely stressful situation when my family was stabbing me repeatedly in the face for looking after my mother.  Apparently if they are selfish, everyone has to be selfish.  Having been told to give up any idea of a family or future to take care of her and my father, I do not know why they then decided they wanted me dead or destroyed for actually doing it.  That is the reason for Ina Disguise.  If I had done anything under my own name it would have been destroyed by now.

Stupidly, I put together a film offering quite an extensive critique of him and Durianriders, using the footage of my transformation thus far, with three months of research into 801010 and the superfood approach thrown in.  Unlike Harley, I am well aware why different people have different nutritional requirements, and unlike Wolfe, I just do it for a laugh.

He blocked me, and the rest is history.  I was broken hearted, although I did not quite understand why at the time, and it was probably three years later before another ex came to visit bearing cake.

I am still of the opinion that if there was a person I should have been with it would have been Wolfe.  I staked my remaining six boyfriends on it, and it is not a source of regret.  Too bad, how sad.

The reason I am writing all this down is because of this notion of ‘positive thinking.’  I was sufficiently positive to take care of myself briefly, because I thought that I deserved better from life.  I did not.  When I determined that I did not, there followed a titanic struggle to decide if I really wanted to be healthy and extremely lonely on a permanent basis.

It isn’t as if anything in my life went the way I wanted it to.  I was obsessed with work, and my parents’ illness, alongside the economy and my inability to appear mouldable enough for your average (very average) employer, rendered that a non-starter after my education.  I wanted children, and I failed to meet anyone because I have not had a social life since 2003.  I wanted to use my education to write a great book, and in the course of my musings on Wolfe, I determined that nobody would be at all interested in reading it unless I had an established name, or offered sufficient entertainment.

So, the struggle became a case of – if I think positively, I am stupidly in love with someone I never really want to meet and I stay healthy on that basis but nothing actually changes.  If I allow myself to be broken by this, I do a lot of sewing, give up writing anything weighty and either way I carry on taking care of my mother.  I was running out of time to have children anyway, and I never see anyone, so it was not as if anything was likely to change.

However, being in love is not useful.  It uses up a lot of capacity which is more helpful for doing other things.  If you allow it to run its normal course, there should be a period of hatred, and I was not at all interested in hatred.  I blow hot and cold as a matter of course, and that course has not altered.

Anyway, as you can see by the website I took option 2 and developed Ina.  Apparently she is fairly stylish.  Nothing that I wanted to happen is going to happen in my life, and this is regardless of meeting anyone or changing my perception of anything.  All that remains is the small things, and perhaps that is just as well.

I am sure that some people would say I have achieved a lot over the last four years in terms of self-development, and I am sure that is the case.  My friends would tell you that I have always had a masterplan of some sort that I am working towards.  I get side tracked a lot (an example being the computers to Gambia project) but I always finish things eventually.  Is it useful?  Probably not.  The book I would have written when I met Wolfe would have been, but considering that it was a labour of love, it would have been a waste of my time as even the one person I wanted to read and use it would not have done so.  Had I been thinking positively, I would have wasted years of my time on maintaining my health in order to have a longer period of extreme poverty in later life, and for what? Trying to impress yet another unimpressable boy?  What on earth is useful about that?

So, I have to say, I am not a fan of endless positivity.  Had I taken the positive route I may well have been beautiful by now, but there would have been nobody here to look at it, and I don’t spend a lot of time looking in the mirror.  I would also have been stark raving bonkers to remain in love with somebody that repeatedly blocked me even for asking a question about his charity.  As it was I pursued that line of thought for far too long, although Wolfe has had some small benefit out of that.

I am unusually clued up about why people respond to him the way they do. I took a variety of lines of investigation into the emotional triggers they are experiencing.  Apart from the fact he has made a niche subject extremely entertaining and courted as much controversy as possible to attract more attention to it, which personally I regard as a stroke of genius, some of his speaking techniques have led to considerable leakage in his commercial catchment, besides the errors that everyone makes on a similar trajectory.

So, although nobody is interested in this knowledge apart from me, I have got to the end of that line of enquiry.  I am left wondering why I would spend 8 or 9 years bothering to sort this mystery out.  I am still rather entranced by the methodology, but I didn’t have the time for this really. It gave me something to think about apart from the horror of finding out my family were quite so vicious, and it got me through a difficult time because of the sheer distraction of weeping about something else.

In terms of myself, I still don’t rate myself highly enough, and thinking positively is not something that is likely to help.  Positivity involves hope, and hope is not useful when it has already gone.

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Introduction to Ina

Introduction to Ina

This week, I decided to launch myself a bit more seriously, in preparation for the finished Boris pieces, which I think are the start of a more revealing art period.  Several of the sites would like me to write a regular blog, and so here is your handy introduction to Ina Disguise.

My father, also an artist, always advised me to do anything but art, since producing artwork for money is not the happiest of experiences if you like to express anything.  Therefore, his reasoning was avoid art in order to produce better art.  This led to my becoming a habitual over worker, as I took him at his word and worked every hour I could to avoid doing any artwork for many years.

Ina Disguise came about as a result of my inability to have a conversation with David Wolfe, a natural health promoter that I wanted to talk to about some academic work I was doing on eco-economics, marketing and behavioural economics.  I managed to connect with him briefly on a few websites, but he only seemed to want to talk trash and pretend to himself that he is very clever.  I am not sure why he does this, because apart from his lousy writing and a murky past, he actually is very clever.

As my family were trying to use abusing me as an excuse to rob their own mother, this came as the last straw and I became very unhappy, despite having just lost about 160lb and looking unusually hot that year.  Therefore, after spending several months fighting off the urge to eat myself into oblivion, I started sewing, which is a habit I had previously formed whilst avoiding horrible and hurtful people and recovering from failed love affairs.  If you cannot have the relationship, you might as well have a nice carpet out of your misdirected emotions.

Since he had blocked me from actually speaking to him, after it transpired that I was unusual in seeing through his many disguises online, I then wrote Best Scandal Ever in an effort to appease and inform him why I was buttering him up in the first place.  Best Romance Ever followed, and, since I am of the opinion that keeping one’s brain balanced is rather important, I spent the time that I was not writing doing a lot more stitching.

I had previously amassed art materials with every spare penny from every job I had had since being told that I had to give up everything for my parents as nobody else in the family would ever be willing to do it.  Currently two of them are sitting idle with pensions whilst I am unable to earn my own.

Anyway, within a year of putting my work out in public, GQ had got in touch, which has been an enormous encouragement, and my work has now been in Tatler several times, and last month I realised an early ambition and managed to get a spot in World of Interiors.  I cannot tell you how much the girls from these magazines have helped me at what has been a very rough and ego bashing time.

So now I work in batches, usually five or six pieces at a time, and I have released several batches over the last four years, with varying results.  Some of the pieces are more popular with other people than me, but my experiments have taught me a lot.  Scale is a great tutor, as is ensuring that you are spoilt for stock volume in raw materials.  As with writing, the ideas you would like to have only come when you have indulged the ideas you initially think are merely basic.

Wolfe taught me a lot about marketing, allowing yourself to express even the most rudimentary ideas, on the basis that most people cannot manage that and will show some interest anyway.  There is simply no point in waiting until you are good enough, because if you don’t practise and attempt things, you don’t develop the stamina, skill and confidence to get to the good stuff.  One of my pieces, Raw Sex Object, took seven years to complete, and I am not even interested in selling it because it is really a giant sampler.

Anyway, Wolfe has never understood that I am not trying to kill his career, and I cannot be bothered explaining it to him, so I have now embarked on the Boris adventure, as I perceive Boris to be a far more settled and confident person who might actually appreciate my amusing coded communication skills.  I shall lavish attention on poor Boris until I presumably focus on a very serious person, such as the Pope.  In the meantime, enjoy the artwork.



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