Military portrait

To get inside Veronica, Veronica out of Oxygen. Who would not be complex and conflicted, out of breath? How to be exhausted and not show it. To have a sense of self as a machine and how that machine functions. Try not to be violent, but obedient and eat the penis as it was the best kind of fruit ever hanging in front of you. Look like you have violence as a force of nature, there, unused.

How to be believable as sex worker? Is it so that sex worker is recognisable? A stereotype posing a lure, alluring? Something that cannot be verbalised, a thought which is so demanding and dangerous to be spoken out loud with respect, it would ruin something if done so.
To swallow a load, Black Rose Diamond Veronica is a dominatrix. She works in a dungeon. She is dressed in red PVC. Heels so high and black tide up her thighs. Everything is there when she needs to give a lesson and she must be obeyed for the customer to be humiliated in private.
Angelique Rubensia Urbania has voluptuous figure. Something to squeeze while she bangs you on top. Maybe you can’t breathe under her, so it is a punishment to lie under her body. Her cunt is almost too big and it kind of swallows you up. For a prostitute to swallow usually means something else. Something which is partly humiliating, to swallow a load.

River of no return

How many takes?
She was very sweet. She was a comedian. She was very shy. She was fuck me. She was very uncomfortable. She was convinced, she was not very sexy and pretty. She didn’t have an aura of sexiness about her. There was some magic about her, she would play at it. She would burlesque it. She seemed like a lost child. It seemed to her like Alice in Wonderland and she could not believe it. Anybody was very serious about her. She really felt she didn’t have the inner qualifications to fulfil the image of a sex goddess. She thought that the whole thing was a lie, because it was not her. She would never feel worthy. She was very very difficult. She was vulnerable. She was weak. She was teary. She was struggling. She was falling apart. She was hurt. She was an addict. She was needy. She was difficult. She was in pain. She was adorable. She was drunk. She was nice. She was childlike. She was late. She was lovely. She was hanging on. She was calling me. She was calling everybody. She was caring. She was unprofessional. She was sexy. She was beautiful. She was funny. She was doing the thing that was wanted of her, she was not doing what she wanted.

How to express

Fear to express, when do you become afraid to express? What there is to express? When do we know, what should be expressed?

A bruise in a shape of Africa.
Those who do not understand, they may say it out loud and look at you. Things that can’t be told her, are not told her. They are kept from her, totally weird and not at all, but totally something. Silent and distant, untouchable gap, it is a shame, it is a religion.

Men who talk to women as if they were dogs, like dogs, like dogs talk, that they were dogs. What is there to talk to a dog other than they just look as if you know the answer. You don’t want to talk to women like they were equals, because you don’t want an answer. You can’t handle the answer.

Sounds of Africa/shot in the head

You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpected and unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin, to eat you and to consume you and move on to the next body. Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness, but we like to see it as one block, because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?

Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing.
Animal sounds, roaring.
Human sounds, shooting.
Nature’s sounds, the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain. Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake: you will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?

Coffee cantata, tsinazil signifies the whipping of Jesus. Wondrous voices made with instruments invented. 

Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.

She was drunk.

Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk.Shewasdrunk

Stay out of edges/experiments on paper, what to do with paint and paper.

It is long way to me. It is a long way to yourself. You can go round and round on and on, all the way to the other side of the globe and think you have found something worthwhile since you had the money and time and will and effort and interest and guts to go and explore as far as possible.

I cannot close my eyes, I have to look every detail. Every already seen thing again and again. Every many times seen moved unmoved untouched left explained broken bulged split idea that I got excited about and I remember why. Staying still, staying put, staying here where I am for a long period of time, not moving. Staying, staying. Where is this trip going, where am I going? What is this, is it a trip? They call it a trip.

What comes out of not knowing that the child is yours? It is a child of your own, smell of divinity, smell of liberty, smell of you, smell of the unknown. What comes out of this tiniest thing that is insignificant to you? That is from you like tears and sweat, shit and piss, vomit and anger. Way away pathetic insignificant, fluency of religion, surface of face, façade of a tower, decency of staying out of the edges, staying away from what you do not understand, do not want to understand. Edges of wanting, edges of not wanting.

2008/What is truly ugly?

What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?
What is truly ugly?

Monster tan

Definition of doing, how small, how much and what. Moving.
Always under surveillance, under looking-glass,
cyclist passing by with a cheer and a hat, peeping non-sleeper enjoying little light through narrow slits, time when everything sounds loud. You breathe like a horn was blown and buffed to call something. Options for solitude and thoughts of all kinds, scales of absurd and trauma to your left shoulder and over, tissue damage visible cut over a cut.

Women who are dirty. Women who between their legs are dirty, they are ashamed and shamed, should be washed clean. dirty is the Skin, armpits smell, hair is clumpy unwashed. Weed of deep-sea traveled to the feet still smelling of that salt and water, of that depth of unknown and scare, swoosh hoist her to look at her in the light. In the day of miss dUMbBum scared eyes in the light, diagnosis of a day, set her.

Monster tan

A poem for monsters. How much is in you to give? A test.

Can you love an ugly child? Fat, tiny, whiny and useless, suddenly appearing into your life? Is it organic or manufactured, artificial or natural?
Can you love an ugly child who looks like trouble growing with hunger and thirst, who does not belong here or anywhere but needs a place to stay? Whose whole being yells how out of place she is even though she is quietly looking at you.
Can you give affection to a little beast who is an image of you? Maybe forgotten and hidden. Who reminds you of your weaknesses, your desires which you cannot attend to and fulfil because of that visible existence of someone new, an invader, an intruder grabbing you from your gut. Sounds like a leach.
Can you put priorities of your own aside and love someone with two heads and a heart that pounds noise in which nobody can sleep, unconditionally, without saying you owe me?
Screaming, needy and pathetic, noisier and messier. Heads following sudden ideas, not obeying anything said. Someone with three legs, several hands and wide open mouths nonstop.
Can you love an ugly child that needs to be loved more than you could ever imagine, loved more than you love yourself?
Put all your warmth on that tiny body that breaks everything just to try out what happens? How much warmth do you have to spare and what changes?