A charming young man just sent me a lovely picture of himself naked.
I am sure he is very nice, and I think he is probably Iranian, which usually means wildly attractive if you happen to be me, but I felt as a conversational opener, this was not the greatest.
I remember Craig David sending out a picture himself after several years spent on Muscle Beach. Oily and grumpy was not a great look either.
I do see that American women on my facebook list like to express great delight at this idea of men as objects, but it doesn’t actually work. All it does is say that you are kind of boring, obsessed with the mirror and likely to be out at the gym a lot, which is no fun at all.
Far better to look relaxed, happy and as if you are likely to be good fun. I think we as women also underestimate the power of happiness, and succumb to mutual bullying in terms of conforming to an entirely artificial idea of perfection that does not actually exist. I remember Cindy Crawford saying this when asked how she felt about being so perfect in the 90s. “Nobody really looks like Cindy Crawford.” I always rather like women like Valeria and Cindy when they admit that it just doesn’t exist, and the closest that you get to it involves being utterly miserable.
The only time I manage to eat correctly is when I am alone. Even one other person renders me so stressed that I eat socially, which means anything at all as even once a day is too much now, and means that I stay the same size. This size is not acceptable to me, and in addition I am too polite about not sticking to my goals. I need to either stop seeing other people, or start getting a whole lot more selfish.
Whilst I am working, I am building the shoe collection currently, and working on costume 2. Boris is also getting done during the breaks as the layers are built up over days. It feels very slow, although I doubt it could go any faster.
For the benefit of other people who do not get the benefit of sleep, I can confirm that beauty sleep is definitely a thing. I am now finding that I get pronounced pain if I fall behind, which dissipates with 12 hour marathon sleeps once a week. I am having to shut the cat out to achieve this, as she is very keen to get on with her cat day.
I see the American Conservatives are celebrating Food Stamps being replaced by boxes of shit from corporations that produce terrible food and have lobbied successfully to poison the poor with it.
I don’t like having to pay for other people’s children to get educated, so perhaps we should just extend our mean-spirited hatred of other people to include that. Yay! Poison the Poor! Kill the children! More stupid people! Yay!!!
It is 4.30am and I have just finished work, so I am somewhat tired.
The event was held at the art school, and from my non-experience I can tell you getting artists to organise events is probably a bad idea. Endless waiting with no results.
From the limited number of people I managed to meet, I ascertained that even at my shyest, I am socially advanced in comparison with many artists, which I guess bodes well for the people facing side of things. If only I could talk myself out of eating, I would be a happier bunny.
On the plus side, my campaign of arm waving whilst on my walks is working well, to the point that I actually managed to scare a more timid passer by this evening without worrying about it. Good, frankly.
Boris is currently a little fleshier than I would like, but I am sure once I have started on the fine detail, the features will work out well. Those lips are still not right though, I am fussing a little over them and the skin tone at the moment.
I think I shall concentrate on the paperwork this week, which means we may actually get to do some filming once this week of binge working is complete.
So, objectification. I realise that most people will assume that I am about to start talking about bottoms. I am not in the slightest bit interested in bottoms. At the age when I was supposed to be checking bottoms I was interested in the small of the back, and the elbow. Now I am more interested in the unwitting information that you get from somebody’s appearance. I always preferred some evidence of character. Now I find I am reaching the age where other people are manipulating this source of information, their methods have become more fascinating to me than the end result.
From a personal perspective as Ina, we are dealing with two main protagonists now, so let us have a brief run down, since they are both characters you can easily make yourself familiar with. I am doing this as a personal exercise in my thought process, as well providing some insight into what constitutes ‘thinking woman’s crumpet.’
As you can see, I appreciate a chap that talks a lot, which probably means that I am a lazy communicator. I also like a bit of bite, which I have inherited from my mother, who dumped one ex because he said yes too often. Confidence is something that I associate with a devil-may-care approach, rather than people who are more uptight. There is nothing worse than crying over a broken nail. I appear to attract men who do this, probably because of my love of a snappy dresser which oddly sits next to my evident deep respect for not giving a toss what anybody thinks of you. I am usually extremely scruffy, but now and again I pull out some glamour and shock everybody. As you can probably tell from this, I am very happy and indeed revel in being a peahen most of the time.
Both of them have had very strong yet difficult father figures. Fathers seem to be immensely important to me. My own was secretive, quiet and yet an incredibly strong person who preferred to avoid worthless interaction. I seem to have adopted many of his characteristics, and so left to my own devices I seem to attract people who missed theirs somewhat. For this reason I have in the past ended up in all sorts of trouble due to people who did not realise that they were extremely angry with theirs. I am a kind of stress doll for daddy issues in the real world, so there are pointers that I am seeking out with both characters here.
Fame – I used to despise the love of it, and was never into poster boys. The reason this has become an issue is because I surprised myself by identifying quite so strongly with Wolfe. (for those readers who wonder why I always refer to him by his surname, it is in reference to my real name, not an indication of contempt) It took a lot of thinking through it before I accepted it as being anything other than an aberration, and when I did I took it as an indication of a personal defect rather than embracing it. I cannot tell you how much thought it has taken to simply roll with it. I used to be an extremely private and cynical person who plotted ways of progressing without anyone knowing about it. Wolfe has inadvertently taught me that this is futile, uninspiring and rather dull. Whilst my progress is kind of patchy, it is consistent, so I am rather pleased that I did not do the most obvious and reject it out of hand, which would have led to more self-hatred and destructive behaviour long term.
I have noticed from the work that I have done so far, that I am a lot gentler with Boris than I am with Wolfe. I am not sure if this is a purely sexual difference, or whether I am responding to perceived need. I am quite reactive, so it is possible that I am picking up on very tiny cues here. I’m also very used to male emotion, so there could be minuscule and subtle reasons for this. I could not bring myself to even consider things from a sexual perspective for several years, I was so terrified of Wolfe emotionally, so I wonder if passion makes one more aggressive without being aware of it. Even looking at a picture of him was impossible for several years, until I made the icon from memory and wanted to make sure I had got it right. Looking in the mirror was also a problem, since I do not really need to see Wolfe to see Wolfe.
It could also be that I do not find Conservative politics as challenging as I do the philosophical task ahead for Wolfe, so I see the work for Boris as being comparatively lightweight. I do realise that if you do not see things as I do, this will sound astonishing, but I will demonstrate this in the fullness of time as the project progresses. Running the UK is actually a significantly smaller job than the breadth of coverage required for the epic tasklist that is involved in dealing with Wolfe’s points to the extent that they achieve the stature I am shooting for.
Finally, I think in both cases they are vastly improved versions of the generation before, which is unusual. Whether either of them are aware of it or not, they continue to achieve on a massive scale. As a lady who has always taken relationships, real or virtual as a challenge, this is a worthy rocket to stick up my ass, thereby getting the best out of me. Surely that is a worthwhile way of wasting your time?
Bit concerned, and it will be a very short networking event here in Glasgow, but I am sure it will be very interesting.
First flags have been assembled, 7 more ordered and the second costume is underway.
Boris looking pretty good, but still not finished.
I now need to get my permissions underway. Managed to get phone numbers for some of the musical artists, and record companies for some of the others.
Now I need to storyboard several videos so that Twisty has sufficient detail to work from before I start working to pay for all this, but having now started rehearsing the actual act, it seems to be looking pretty good.
Still have the static banners to order, and possibly a PA system, although I still haven’t taken police or local authority advice.
And yes, Boris, I got the message. Time is indeed a-wasting. I’m on it, as fast as I can without outside funding.
It isn’t restricted at this end in terms of timeframe, so if we aren’t totally coordinated, it won’t be the end of the world.
In the last two weeks, I have been offered several jobs, and am still fielding offers at the moment.
I am a fairly resourceful creature when I need to be.
I decided that I did not want to give up Ina Disguise and become a journalist, as I thought it was a bit silly given that even Ina is better known than the publication that wanted me to give her up.
I decided that I did not particularly want to sell medical insurance, as I do not really approve of it as becoming a necessity. Why not just educate the public and the healthcare system we already have?
I did, however, decide to go back into banking consultancy, and am awaiting some interesting research and louche career related stuff in addition to continuing my very important plumbing, medical and lift rescue during the night.
So, now I have to reinvent myself as a member of the rat race. I have spent pretty much the last twenty years in paint, glue and resin covered rags.
So far, I have come up with
Evil pixie banker – I am not sure if a pointed hood is welcome in a corporate office, especially if used to cover your face.
Kinky Victorian banker – I am sure this would be very entertaining, but everyone will assume that I am a concubine of Jacob Rees-Mogg. It is also rather expensive and I positively hate ironing.
Steampunk banker – the watches are almost certain to get in the way of the keyboard.
Lagenlook banker – Germanic may be appropriate, but would be considered a rather eccentric choice.
The last time I did this kind of consultancy, I think I was probably tired hobbit banker, given that I was restoring this house and doing another two jobs at the same time. Perhaps I should just stick to that with a suitably punishing corset to remind me to behave.
All I can say is thank goodness for ebay.
On Friday, I will be completing the testing on some research work, which will bring me to a total of two full-time and one part-time job. That should shut me up for a bit.
In the meantime, I am going to run through my first batch of Boris related reading, start work on the performance rehearsals, and work on a second costume whilst finishing up Boris’s gorgeous lips and eyes. The car needs attention, and the cats are also needing some TLC.
And no, nothing else is likely to change, sorry world.
Being realistic was killing me because to accept that I was nothing, would never be anything but nothing was so depressing that I no longer wanted to be alive. It meant that I no longer had to consider my appearance, since nobody cared what I looked like, I had no interest in it and didn’t look in the mirror anyway. It meant that I no longer had to consider doing any work, since I was too depressed to do it and there was nobody to do it for.
Being realistic killed my mother because a bunch of terminally stupid people, including her own children and three hospital consultants thought that every piece of bullshit they had been told by an imaginary authority was correct and I was wrong. From having the healthiest immune system she had ever had, drug and pain free, she went to dead of pneumonia within two months, drugged up to the eyeballs with poisonous drugs that she only needed because they insisted on feeding her a crap diet.
Is being realistic killing you?
Take a look at your life. What relationship does it have with your dreams or self-perception? My self-perception has changed quite radically of late,although I cannot say it has changed significantly over the long-term. I always carried the whiff of scandal everywhere I went. When I finally discovered just how big the impending scandal was, I was shocked into wondering why I had the information, questioning the source of the information, questioning my emotional motives for embracing the information and wondering whether I was the right person to handle the information.
All this created years of delays. I cannot honestly say it is Wolfe’s fault. He has relentlessly run with his particular ball despite horrific setback, errors and many events which would have seen lesser people run a million miles rather than carry on.
Is he an angel? No, but neither was anyone of note throughout history. Is he original? Not particularly, however he has taken a bunch of elements and almost accidentally created a rather messy foundation for something far more interesting.
Is he perfect? Hell no.
So, all in all I think out of the nine years, it has taken probably seven years of full time thought, and I am a pretty intense worker, to even to get to the point where I felt safe to proceed with the work. My emotional state complicated this further, since the inevitable self-doubt was seriously amplified by that horrible feeling that one isn’t going to be able to think one’s way out of it this time, and wondering what implications this has for the overall project.
The project itself was always bigger than us, so it was more of a question of what form it would take and how to go about making it work properly. I think we are on the right track now. In terms of timing, we will be lucky if I can make this happen by the time we are sixty, but I am fairly happy with the strategy now that my personal distraction tactics have taken a more useful turn.
In terms of the No Glass Walls project, I had a very interesting conversation with a friend last night, when she tried to gently remind me to ‘be realistic.’ Her idea of ‘being realistic’ is forgetting about Wolfe, mainly because we choose not to directly communicate (we both have good reasons for that) and presumably ‘moving on’ in some weak and spineless way – to something significantly more boring and tiresome.
Being realistic involves being dead to the core.
Fuck being realistic. I am not nothing. My mother wasn’t nothing, and the world is FULL of terminally stupid people who don’t deserve to have the slightest bit of consideration for their appalling ignorance.
So far so good. We have the broadcast camera!!!!!!
The flags are on the way, the flagpoles are crawling over from Hong Kong, Ina’s costume is half made – it is as usual, slightly hippy taken to the level of textile art. I dare not actually try it on yet, but it looks like I will resemble a cross between a children’s TV presenter and rather flashy renegade with no face.
Boris’s face is coming along nicely and should be starting to look beautiful tomorrow.
Still wary of a PA system due to the noise pollution. I think the next thing to do is the banner – which is what the previous poem which isn’t really a poem is for.
Rehearsing whilst walking is interesting. I am a very shy person, and the idea of even lifting my arms in public was difficult due to memories of familial bullying, but for the purposes of being physically confident enough to pull this off I have been practising waving my arms around a lot in public. I am sure passers-by are perplexed by this but I am trying to make a point of being seen doing it so that I do not care.
Some things that I want to be able to do require considerably less stress on my skeleton so I will be a little restricted by the remaining weight, which is persistently refusing to shift, possibly because of lack of sleep at the moment. I am, however, feeling remarkably positive about the whole idea.
So, next on the tasklist after Boris is making the prop list. We have invented a new board game for the project, which we have to manufacture. I have to contact the green screen place because unbelievably, my house isn’t big enough. We have to spend a day at the trampoline park, the hovercraft park and another in the mountains. It is all pretty challenging really. The one good thing about grieving is that you no longer care.
Probably going to have a few problems with Sony with the Michael Jackson track we want to use for episode 1 of the series but I do not forsee too many problems with the other ones, subject to my friend in Slovenia being able to collar the right person there. Apart from that the tracks for the other decades are less well known so I do not see us having too many problems, unless you include actually finding the musicians concerned.
In the meantime I am having tremendous fun with the visualisation of the final product. I am considering contacting all the political parties to organise some national promotion, given that the point of the project is to increase public participation in party membership. I also have several specialist groups I would like to involve.
Probably a few weeks off having the cash to start the next stage of Iain Duncan Smith is Fit for Work. In the meantime I will be working on Lucifer Ogilvie and my History of the Conservative Party, which I have to write before I start on Lucifer as it is one of my ‘refracting vine’ type of stories which unwittingly educate the reader.
Tomorrow I will be getting Boris’s face in shape for the next stages. He won’t be ready for his hair yet but it is looking good so far. I will also be rescuing my abandoned-due-to-broken-heart research for the original book for Wolfe, which once we have all this work done, is intended for an actual publisher, subject to the mission being complete and my having achieved what I want to achieve before contacting Wolfe’s VP.
The game is pending at the moment due to this, but I think all things considered, this is the right priority list because once I am on contract with the bank in addition to my normal week the game will be easier to work on than anything heavier.
This may sound a bit rich coming from me, given my ongoing emotional predicament, but for the last five years I have been emailed by some friend of David Icke’s ex-wife. She likes to send me discouraging messages and music videos for some reason.
Ok, for those who have not quite grasped this, being Ina is quite a lot of work. The person behind Ina has a life doing other things and Ina is her rather expensive and time-consuming playtime.
Some of what this woman had to say to begin with was very helpful. I got a lot of insight which was not entirely unexpected. Without going into it too deeply, I could have gone into quite freakish levels of detail if I had wanted to during the Best Ever series.
I chose instead to create a kind of art cartoon, which suited both the situation and the entertainment value, which fans of the series who do not know anything about Wolfe or me absolutely adore. The initial principle of grumpy megalomaniac academic chasing wild free-love practicing celebrity hippy was just as alternately shocking and hilarious to my readers as it was to me as it happened to me.
Anyway, now for a bit of finger wagging – BOOZE IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU! STOP DRINKING IT IS ROTTING WHAT IS LEFT OF YOUR BRAIN, WHOEVER YOU ARE.
The problem with alcohol is that it shrinks your perception. Over time it poisons and distorts your outlook to the extent that you look for full stops and draw conclusions without having any concept of an alternative way of looking at things. I have one sister that has a similarly shrunken self-image and understanding of the world and between her and the narc, it contributed heavily towards the killing of my mother.
So, I am afraid I now have a zero-tolerance policy on boozehounds. If you want to drink, drink. Don’t bother looking at anything creative or progressive, because you won’t understand it or even try. Stick to watching TV and drink more, preferably alone until you die of misery or pulmonary embolism.
There are good reasons for everything that I have done. Some things work, some don’t. I have come to the conclusion that the less I bother to think about it the better. As usual, Wolfe is correct. Do it now, and don’t overthink it. Don’t listen to boozehounds.
Apparently my age has caught up with my experience and I am now to be considered for grown-up jobs. That is helpful. I will be re-entering the thrilling world of evil banking in the next month or so. (probably more dull than evil for a while) Meanwhile the exciting world of insurance also beckons. Worry not, if you are stuck in a lift or carpark in the USA, I will still be fitting that in for a while. 80 hours is a moderate week if you happen to be a former chef.
In the meantime, I have suddenly dropped a stone, so I am back in my corsets and on the supermix. The way I operate now seems to be based on the idea of the Holy Grail being supermix and a lot of water, and in the event that I am forced to socialise or very cold and upset, I eat low carb. Low carb no longer promotes any weight loss, however, so I think I have probably reached the age of CRON.
Now that I am back into my corsets, my back problem is improving, so more walking is getting done. It is rather hilarious that I have this particular kink, given that I still habitually wear men’s clothes, but all the more fun if you get me into a compromising situation I suppose.
Meanwhile, there are more pressing issues at home. Boris’s face needs shaving and dewrinkled, he probably needs a haircut with some handy nail scissors, the camera is still an issue – I have found when dealing with the public that the bigger the camera, the more they play to it so a big one is essential, and I think I have come up with a good strategy for the nation-wide project in terms of participation. Given that it is effectively an apolitical campaign, although it is cloaked as an art project, I suspect that I might get some help if I ask for it. I need to sort out my banner and am waiting to get my flags made.
So, although I am a bit weak and spindly and certainly a bit stiff, progress is being made.
Digging my reading at the moment, so there may be some more work on the books page soon.
To avoid the rage I feel towards the probably 30 or so people involved in collectively avoiding their responsibility for the murder of my mother, I have focussed heavily on the No Glass Walls project for a week or two. There is a nurse called Darren who single-handedly made sure I knew that if I attempted to stop their idea of a process, I would have legal problems, so I basically had to back off. I do not like Darren very much.
Some of the required props have been purchased, I am waiting to see if I get a suitable camera, my filmmaker friend and I have already fallen out, and I am now at the contingency planning stage.
He makes beautiful but exacting films, but I have a very different approach to things, because I am very overview-led and loathe to involve other people or actual dates for doing things if I can avoid it, as this always causes so many problems that I end up not bothering to do things at all. I am a busy person.
His latest very well-meaning suggestion was that I get someone else to be me, as I showed some concerns about his wanting to make the logo look like me in reality. Apparently realistically ugly women are joyful. Clearly I still have some confidence issues, especially after reading the comments on the latest Amy Schumer masterpiece, which itself looks horrible.
I tried to explain to him that in order for things to be appealing, sometimes you have to alter them slightly, and asked whether this was part of his planning? The response to this was that perhaps we have someone else do it.
As this was supposed to be a national scale project, involving an actress to come at short notice on long day trips across the country over a period of several weeks at no cost seems highly unlikely. I now also feel that I am not good enough to be my own logo, because my idea of a logo is something that can be easily replicated, as opposed to something that becomes a major disaster if it goes missing or you don’t have access to your laptop. For this reason I now have a logo that makes me look as if I am wearing a burkha on most sites. I am not sure if I have updated the one on the website, but I am probably going to return to the rune anyway. It was a nice idea, but I am not comfortable with it now.
Anyway, I am now feeling very sad. The complications involved, including hiring a green screen studio, are likely to be expensive and what started as a nice big idea to take me through the grieving process is now looking expensive, unpleasant, difficult to manage and I obviously don’t look good enough.
Grieving is not a joyful time. You don’t really understand why people are acting perfectly normally as everything is seen through a sort of veil. I have had dealings with a number of irrational and seemingly hysterical people over the last three weeks, and I don’t really care about their motivation for their actions. They just look crazy to me.
I quite enjoyed doing my bit of Conservative ass kicking last night though. I might do a bit more of that.