Writer, demi-fictional, extranousician, liminal, non-binary & binary star. Writing fiction, poetry and philosophy about life, language, art, imagination, consciousness, magic and various other manifestations of the mind.
If you are such a boring character that “male” is your only prominent feature and you get grumpy when you believe that trait is threatened by anything considered “female” I got this advice for you: Get a personality and stop being so anxious.
We are the water of The Sea rising as a wave before we break in the foam of the crest and return through The Surface to be irretrievably dissolved in The Noise of the Deep.
We are Nothing. The Universe is Nothing. The Universe is also Something. The Universe is a Sea of Something borrowed from Nothing. It’s a Sea of Frequencies in the Expanding Chaos of the Great Mother of Nothing.
We are The Never Not, rising in The Sea. We are The Sea rising to become a wave. A wave is composed of Nothing becoming Something that rises on The Surface of Nothing. The wave is one frequency among countless frequencies in The Sea of Frequencies.
We are the waves and the waves are water, all risen from the same Black Mother’s Sea-womb, indistinguishable in essence. But difference and distance separates every wave that we are from the All. We are the only wave in that shape and position; we are the only emergency that we can be at that time. And for a fleeting moment we are Something when we emerge and roar in the liminal tension of The Membrane of the Abyss.
We are a wave in The Sea and we know that we are. Our ascent is up from the depths of The Sea. We become a single wave and this wave, with its interference and feedback and loops, is what we call the span of a life.
Cherish both harmonies and noise, because when the differences and distances disappears, when the amplitude falls, we will also fall, back into The Void that is the Sea-womb of The Mother of Absent Light, where we will become All and Nothing again.
We rise and fall, we’re born of the All, and we are All, and every I is we, every I will become them, in a constant flux, dissolved, blended and coagulated. We oscillate, we modulate, we merge, diverge, refract, disperse, again, again and again, as another wavelength is born from the multitude of the Abandoned Frequencies.
We are Nothing – we are All.
We are The Sea of Frequencies.
I awoke early after having gone to bed late. The hint of pain in my chest, still to tired to be able to open my eyes. Eventually I realized that I wouldn’t go back to sleep and found my way to the toilet out of habit. The apartment was cold so I un-nuded myself with a sweater that I fished out of the laundry basket while I sat peeing.
The day before I had gone through notebook after notebook to find and collect scattered notes about a project I might start after the current writing project is finished. Found all sorts of notes. A hundred ideas for short stories. Outlines for about ten novels. And the diary notes. Oh, my god. So much I’ve forgotten. Happiness, pain and sorrow all mixed up.
I was panicking. What should I do with all this material? When would I have the time do do something out of it? Where do I want to go? Where am I going no matter if I want or not? Is there even a point to choose a direction? Where do we end up? What’s the point, really?
I didn’t feel sad or depressed as I had been off and on for a long while according to the diaries. I felt nihilistic. But not in a negative sense – which I realized after a while. I think I’m a positive nihilist. Looking at the core message of the notes I had started to collect I found that one of my five magical statements summed it all up.
When finished on the toilet, washing my hands, looking deep into the reflection I decided that today I’m gonna dress entirely in black. Haven’t done that in quite a while. Although I’ll take milk in the coffee – I guess that’s the limit of how black my nihilism goes.
How to be a magician, writer, artist or just a decent human being: Exercise your mind. Let it wander, let it wonder. Make it afraid, make it reel. Force it to work, make it stop. Excite it, please it, direct it, restrict it and rest it. Dissolve all borders. Focus and collapse, again and again!
Answer to comment:
Open mind? Nah, I wouldn’t recommend it. I’m a bit of a HSP and it’s really difficult with all the virtual screaming going on in the world. I’d prefer if my mind had got those heavy steel plates over the windows like the base on LV-426. And some sentry guns of course. Note that the blast shields can be raised or lowered depending on mood and the weather outdoors or inwebs.
I usually argue that we are the demons. Also: All preachers are possessed by a monotheistic alien being from ideaspace.
Anyway, while I jest about open, of course we should be open, I’d prefer the ambiguity of: A curious mind leads to a curious heart!
2018 in review
My predictions for 2018 kind of came through. I wrote half of a novel, recorded a solo album, explored the boundaries of my genderfluidity, although wasn’t nearly as slutty as I had hoped, but I was good at taking care of myself while feeling low on energy, and I often felt kind of confident in myself. I finally had a breakthrough in my work with what I call magic and now consider myself experienced enough to call myself a Magician.
2019 in preview
I wanna finish the novel and find a new publisher. I hope to record new songs for an album with my band. I’ll continue to explore my non-binary self and find a way to to be comfortable and confident in myself. And when I feel confident enough I’d like some kinky and/or kind intimacy. I also aim to write some about my thoughts on what magic is to me and continue the magical work with friends and acquaintances up in Stockholm.
I’m a work in progress and I know it.
Happy Solstice! Up here in the north there is no Christ in Christmas, it’s not even called anything Christ-related, the English word would be Yule. People do have trees, stars and stuff but deep down everyone knows we celebrate older customs.
I’m heading up into The Northern Zone again for two weeks. Time to fuck up reality, time and self again. Who I am will be reflected in old distorted mirrors. But I will persevere and ascend from the past. I’ll claim my room and declare my direction. As magician I set the stage and as a writer I spell the shape of things to come.
This year I’ve fashioned an invisible time-suit that allows me to interact with the indigenous past-timers without danger to my current chronology.
Adults are children nowadays and children are just insane adults.
Yesterday I had a fever of 39,2°C. For some reason I decided to start re-reading The Nag Hammadi Gnostic Scriptures, with archons, gods, demons and magic all over the place. Today I have no fever and now I wonder what came from the book and what was my fever-induced dreams when nodding off the whole time. A very trippy experience. The only good thing with fever are the strange dreams your mushy head produces. Oh, and that it fights the illness of course.
You don’t have to be perfect or be balanced and under control. You don’t have to be walking through life playing a role. Cause your virtues and vices are inseparable and any emotion is true. It’s how you handle your imperfections that decides what I make of you.
Every girl and boy
is the surface of a balloon
Blown out of proportion
easily popped by a baboon
Dear white hetero sports fan man,
Let me give you an insight into why we need pride parades and still have much work to do with LBGT+ issues. Imagine you are dressed in your team colors. It’s late at night and you have to walk alone through a bad neighborhood where lots of hooligans from your rival team hangs out. Imagine how this would make feel. Then imagine that’s how you feel everyday when you walk out of the door. Hopefully you now understand that this has to change and help us change it. And, dear reader, if I’m preaching to the choir – just sing along!
(Nothing has happened to me, but sadly this has to be explained to some people.)
“How old do you feel, inside?” That was the question at today’s afternoon coffee break at work. Someone said they felt the same as when they were 25 and someone else said they felt like they were still 32. Though they were both actually in their fifties.
I thought about it and considered who I am now. How I for especially the last two years have evolved through my work with myself, writing and magic. People have always considered me educated, well-informed, but now I feel even wiser and have better grasp about myself and the world than ever before.
Of course the present me grew out of the 25 and 32 years old me. But now I am so much more than I was. I don’t want to boast – I’ve still got a long way to go – but I’ve got insights and understandings that most people never even try to reach. I really don’t identify with any of my younger selves anymore.
So I came to the inevitable conclusion: I feel like 200 years old. I feel like a smiling high priestess, a weathered shamanka dancing in the woods, a wise old fool laughing at the wonders of the world. I am happy to feel centuries old and still think that is young.
Let me guide you through the darkness. I’m heading towards the light.
Kisses and best wishes,
Ellinor Kall.
Listening to a video with advice about how to handle stress.
Russell: “Stress is fear.”
Me, to myself: “Please don’t be afraid anymore, Ellinor.”
Russell: “Joy is beyond pleasure.”
Me, also to myself: “Oh, beyond pleasure, take me there already!”
Russell: “Follow your bliss.”
Me, to me: “Oh, sweetie, that is the first step, I know where we are going! Come on!”
Books are beings. They are living entities and we writers are their midwives, proud to have delivered them, but not their biological parents. They live and feed through symbiosis. They never die but can be annihilated. They propagate themselves in the most remarkable ways.
I’m getting a tattoo to explain it all.
It says: “Nagu+Fuck“.
The blessed lizard running for ages inwards my bra in an inspiring key to us.
It’s all symbolic, of course.
When the bubble of vacuum decay reaches us none of this matters. My new motto.
Yeah, I know, I seem to change motto’s like underwear… But when the whole of existence is annihilated you better have clean underwear!
My two evidences against intelligent design:
*Because I hope it didn’t happen like this:
God: “There, I’m finished with the air pipes. Remember they die in three minutes if it is clogged.”
Angel: “But wait, how shall we get the food in?”
God: “Oh fuck, I forgot! Well, put it through the air pipe – what could go wrong!”
Whalesongpeople* are the worst. You can’t complain about how annoying they are without looking cynic and coldhearted!
* Whalesongpeople are those positive new agey persons that post cute pictures and inspirational words in fancy typography listening to whale song trying to pretend they are never sad, negative or angry. We need all kinds of emotions to be balanced people, god damn it!