The song of Orpheus


I’d become, if I don’t still, regard myself as a pariah, recently a friend suggested that it was great to be tiny girl and of course she is right, we get away with more, half the population look at us with want and the other with jealousy. As a child I was both embarrassed and prideful of it, in a quest way, I made the least of it I could while still presenting myself in a good way. also disliked company, I didn’t take well to my mother’s friends and family, my dad on the other hand was purposeful and that held more for me, a charm.

I did have friends, acquaintances and girls I admired, usually silently I was more interested in individual pursuits, science, discovery, learning and reading. I avoided sport because I found sports people boastful and crass. I did bitch about them, the bitchy girls too. I think I thought I was normal and they were freaks and the fact they didn’t use or care to use their minds shat me.

The things I loved the most were pony club and learning, I had a real thing for horses, they were such large powerful and majestic animals at once graceful but also dangerous and flighty.

Of course everything changed at puberty, I have always been something of a pragmatist and I decided what I thought I was lacking was companionship, most likely I needed a boyfriend. I had no idea how to talk to boys, until recently I thought they had no practical use other than making babies and I was too young to marry and breed.

My thoughts filled with boys and I went from disinterest to that girly thing of gushy fascination.

I think one of the most important things I have discovered and use or people is empathy, I think I often feel for others even though I might feel nothing for myself.

Unfortunately, this thing, that made me full of adrenaline and turned grey days joyous became more or less work, and not pleasant work. It became drudgery, disassociated to the things I’d so looked forward to. I came to loathe company, especially intimate company. Boys, men, these passed by booth in and out of work with barely anything from me, I was jaded, looking for something that was never there, and instant flame like I’d had in the past.

I found a new vigour in my first apartment, then buying my first apartment, then my third apartment. Asset acquisition and wealth drove me for quite some time, to watch money increase without me having to physically earn it was very satisfying, and in my homes I could indulge myself with expensive and eclectic fit outs, and I went through several phases there, until my last place I furnished for less the cost of my first real couch.

Then there was cars. My first car was a Mini Cooper S, instantly discovered I loved speed, I enrolled in advanced driving courses, went to track days and eventually bought myself some very expensive German hardware, I loved those cars, even washing them, there is something about running a microfiber cloth over the arse end of a Carrera that was almost as good as the sensation on braking later and later and then eventually just learning to power slide the thing. My ex made me sell the second one I bought because he was sensible. I have another Cooper S which has been thrashed to death and soon I’ll have to trade it in on something new.

None of this mattered when I became irrevocably depressed, it had always been there, the depression, I’d pushed it aside and thrown myself at other things. But eventually not cars, houses, men, money or anything could hold it back. I quit my job in late 2012, fully committed to quitting the industry, but I found that it was the last big Jenga piece that bought me down.

I became a recluse, I haunted my lovely beach apartment until me friends, as they have done in the past dragged me to the doctor. I event went to another escorting agency, went on a couple of meetings but nothing would do. A friend suggested I have a tree change and go live oh their farm, I visited and decided I would, I have been here ever since.

No the things that sustain me, that bring me joy are far more simple, I adopted a dog for a while, Gertie until old age took her, that was a wonderful experience though it broke my heart when she did die, when I got here she was in very bad shape, but I did give her six good months. I love to write, I think I’m quite good at several types of writing. I have discovered a love for photography, photos of nature mainly. I’ve established a new set of friends here, strange people, very unlike my home friends.

An old Italian couple who have almost adopted me, I do works for them, which sometimes I am paid in meals, cakes, or the odd $20-$50 dollars. I don’t keep their account very accurately I love them both, though Dario I could kill sometimes when he refuses to use proper measurements, he says I am very german, I say he is like an Italian car, constantly held together with wire and gum.

I have befriended a couple of artists, a Japanese couple – who are also artists, they are my closest friends and I spend a lot of time with them. I have a slave boy who is 18 years old and look at me with puppy eyes and will download anything I need. At work I am fast making a network of friends and followers, its been the last piece in the train wreck I had become to fall into place.

I am now as whole as I have been in years, as confident and as happy as I can remember. So this is what at the end of all of this that I have both gleaned and give back to people.

I think I have a way of putting things into perspective and thereby showing people that there is hope for ourselves, that even though they/you might see nothing but bleakness there are other things often more important we/you ignore. I would be surprised if many of you could top the utter shit storm my life has been, not to say that you have no struggled, I know many of you have long term issues that are not going anywhere. What I’d like to say is in the last conversation I had with my father, the person who I loved most in this lifetime he told me that I should always keep going, always strive, never let anything get in my way and if it did I was to deal with it. It’s a simple thing, but I always remember than when there is life there is hope. Life is about taking control of yourself, your mind and your path. I dislike the idea of settling for what we are dealt. I refuse to in fact. Don’t let things beat you, hit back.

You can be in the gutter or the stars and the only thing holding you back is you.

Desire and repression


Unobscured object of desire I am, salacious and wanton
Is it not a comedy what we learn to love the things once rotten

Soft, young, firm and tight if sex sells then this is the event horizon
Is it not how we want but deny we do so and are we better or wizened

Enveloped in one word yes, yes if all hells of the day are no this is the Om Mantra
Is not amazing as people now argue sides, than the topic and righteous tantrums

The sometimes fierce act of coupling, ecstatic in its tease, divine ability to innovate
Is it not strange how boys look shyly, pull your tails, give up become those who pontificate.

Goddess, girlfriend, tramp, whore, and if you say them does your world not suddenly improve
Have you not been astounded what small things that people will use to deny your groove

Go on then
Then go on.

Scarlet’s Field guide to cocks! (Not suitable for prudes, dudes and anti-nudes)


What a dramatic title Ms Scarlet! Heaven’s yes Miss Ranty! It is a topic all ladies find not that important but men do – and then claim they are not a tiny bit gay! Seeing as I have seen more Dick than anyone – with the exception of the amount of times our prime minister has pulled his, I thought I would do a small – meaning long (the female version) of a ‘know thine cocks’ (with apologies to our gay brethren who know possibly more about cocks seeing as they are both attached and connoisseur).

Cocks are lovely aren’t they? That is, when they are hard, when they are soft they are pitiful little creatures a lot like an elephant after 5 days on ecstasy they are not terribly adorable. Lets be honest, they feel better than they look. Which is why we close our eyes during sex boys! Aside from purely scientific and gossip evidence – yes we do talk about your penises – but not as much as you talk about our covered up parts, mostly you wouldn’t like what we say, we have a sense of humour about genitals, and we like to give things nick names, like you honey bunch!

For example -

Super cock - Men talk about their cock like Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction, they think that after they bang you that you will be lying there exhausted and panting, stupefied at their many arts. Lol, no really they think that! The truth is the opposite of course, The vagina is the most elastic thing in the universe, my bestie had a baby and hers was tiny – omg I almost died in horror/threw up at the birth and now her holly of holies is back to what it was, a little pink flower – how is this done? Evolution bitches! So you know how they say if you bang a lot that you get a big loose vagina? do your lips do that? No. So does your belly get fat and flabby from watching TV or tight and yummy from doing sit ups. Thank you Judge Judy and Jury I am glad I could provide some science for this case. Court dismissed!

Yes getting to the point now (giggle). I love cocks, even enough to put up with what they are attached to – here is a guide to the little guys that confuse men’s sense of spatial displacement (wink).

The following will be done in inches seeing as most of the education needs to be done in places that still use measurements developed by the Indus civilization, are you going to come to the future one day?

The Tardis - I have at least 8 inches and 8 inches of girth! But alas, as with all really cool Sci-Fi it was a sock not a cock, this penis is common, especially in pubs and online.

The un-inflatable toy – Hey that’s a good looking specimen – I bet its chunky when it gets hard – wait what! It only grew and inch! Yes this does happen, sometimes the little guy stops growing well before it should.

The surprise package! On the other hand you may be surprised – poor choice of words I know, the pants serpent appeared disappointing at first sight but now you are staring in the eye of Cockasaurus Rex! Squee! There is a Darwin!

Mr Average: 5.0-6.0 inches and lets be honest guys its closer to 5.5 than 6 right? When someone says they are Average it is sometimes true, but average is fine if the guy knows how to use it.

Bendy or Banana Dick: It’s surprising how many penis’ have a bend or kink in them, really, sometimes it’s slight sometimes it looks like its looking over its shoulder – repression or what? Who is it looking for? Why can’t it look me in the eye?

The Needle: Some dicks are thin and pointy, like a finger, I wish it was two, not three, that isn’t comfortable yet slow down!

The Cutie: A normal looking cock, what’s normal? That’s up to you, unless you’ve seen a lot of dick then you know, and you have my sympathy sister/brother.

The Mushroom: Is that real! Its really hard not to  say something inappropriate when Mr Man pulls down his pants and something weird pops out that is true of the mushroom, which has a much bigger head than the shaft, not without its charms its  handy and doing that yummy internal ’suction’ feeling. Otherwise its edible and will not cause you to die, unless its infected, and I’ve warned you many times about safety first!

Chode: The technical term for a short stubby cocklett, a chode is sometimes just a knob attached at the stem, just pretend its in is my advice, although its almost physically impossible to loose your V plates to this sort of thing – I suspect most misogynists are packing a chode – makes sense right? Angry at women, want to be seen as über macho?

Cock-a-saurus: At the big end of the scale, this will make you go – no way! And remember to offer sacrifice to whatever thing you believe in, even DNKY – true I’ve seen it! This kind of stunt cock is to be treated with an amount of care, it is 8+ inches and fairly chubby, ooo ladies and gentlemen there will be squealing tonight!

Cockzilla: Size does have an extreme end, once past 8 inches they can get painful, this trouser snake is actually a dragon, sometimes you have to admit defeat, it will feel more like surgery than heavenly.

The Goldilocks cock: Not to big not too small, not to think, not too thick its your perfect fit! Hopefully its comes with a decent attachment, which is where you’ll really be interested, but we won’t tell the boys that right?

One cock forged in Mordor to rule them all…

The glass slipper! He is the one Neo, you can stop searching and putting a toothbrush down your gob after meals! The perfect man, I’ve only known him for a night of dancing but so far he is Mr Wonderful/Prince charming/my soul mate and every other myth I was taught as a little girl! Gah my outfit turns to rags at midnight and my Porsche into a pumpkin, the class slipper is perfect, but this one has nothing to do with cocks, it more about the prince attached to it, who cares – as long as he hasn’t got a chode we are happy right?

Appendix – Caveats, caviar and cavaliers

The plucked turkey – Some people like a smoothie, I like at least a bit of hair, otherwise it feels kind of gross, like that Doctors and Nurses I never played with a cousin, thank you FSM for small mercies! I’ve been told that they are generally more edible sans fur, on the shaft sure, no one likes a hairy serpent, sack too, yes that least appealing thing in the cosmos is slightly less gross without fur – but on Mr man’s torso it’s nice to see he is over the age of consent right?

This one smells of fish – Alert! VD! Run my good cock connoisseur! Guy, get yourself to the clinic, and let this be a lesson to you, use condoms, examine anything you are about to straddle or lollypop.

The walking cock – You know, if you stopped calling gay people names and pretending to be so macho you would realise that all those posters on your wall, all of your muscle rippled heroes – the fact that the 300 is your favourite film – yes that’s right, you like dudes dude, as much as dudettes like dudes and really, the reason you are so angry is you need a bit ‘o cock. The fact that both your identities are the same – trust me you’ll feel netter after some cock.

Dicks come in two types of attire, nude or with a hoodie, most of the world has given up the practice of circumcising because lets face it, if the man in the sky you talk about is so perfect why would he wrap your little fireman in a coat that needs to be chopped off and sucked by a rabbi – wait – what? True story if you are a true believer your first sexual experience is with a man – explain that one to me holly rollers? Back to the story Ms Scarlet! Right! So here is the difference, Mr Hoodie is generally more sensitive, Mr nude needs less cleaning: smegma – look that up and try to feel sexy!

Strap ons – not terribly satisfying but they are attached to something intelligent, and boobs, boobs always win right?

By far the most common dick is the internet dick, who just isn’t satisfying at all.

I do apologise for not providing pics for this, but can you imagine how outraged the pensioners for cleaner blogging would be! Imagine, pictures of things half the population have and 80% of the population have enjoyed – oh yes, those figures are accurate – mostly.  I hope you enjoyed this little trip through the cock garden!

Shit things people pretend they like


Gym – Fuck off, it’s torture, even worse if you have a PT, if you genuinely like it then you are probably insane. We do it for a tight bum the end, if you like it, well you are not doing it properly, if you vomit then my PT says “Ok, now you are getting the hang of it.” If I was even getting banged then sure, but I’m not, what a waste of pain!

Porridge – Soggy cereal that looks like baby vomit, tastes like wet cardboard, if you like it, I bet you like the taste of wood.

Jogging – “Ooohh look how far my tights go up my girl parts!” “Check out my boob job!” – The only reasons people jog, and a tight bum, or to show you their boob job – or camel toe – like that’s a good thing.

The Olympics – Sports none of us give 2 shits about during the year suddenly once every 4 years we just MUST watch the luge – fuck off. Its more patriotic wank so that people who have no friends can feel a sense of community on their own, in their mum’s basement waving whatever flag.

Religion – Come on, everything else is way more fun – you pretend to like it, and God knows it, see you in hell bitch.

Your bfs Mother – What a bitch! Nothing is too good for her boy – let alone you, you skank! I bet you’re not even a virgin! Can you cook? Can you darn a sock – wtf is a darn and how does it go in a sock?

Low Fat anything – Eew fucking eew! It tastes less spicy than exercise snot, and less salty!

Zero sugar whatever – Has the idea of eating yourself thin worked? Eat less, go for the top shelf – sweet is only sweet when its actual sugar not Effexor for the palate.

Poetry – Shits boring – what the fuck does it mean? I dunno I’m not only blonde but I dye it lighter!

“Serious bloggers” Yer going to be a great writer, honestly, someone is bound to discover me, am I your friend now? Do you love me? No one else does but you do right? Get yourself a Kindle and a dating site bitches.

Birthdays – they are always disappointing, especially other people’s.

Valentine’s Day – what you think you deserve a blow job because you bought me a card and some flowers from the service station? I have a headache.

Cooked Carrot: Why? It tastes good raw, but no you have to cook it with fava beans and Chianti!

Raisins/Sultanas – Grapes are fresh tasting! Lets get rid of that and dry them out, then put them in everything to make it taste not fresh either. Crazy, just crazy.

Babies – It’s cute when it’s not pooing, screaming, vomiting, peeing or in danger – so when is that? Oh right, when they wander on the road, or turn up at your neighbours giving you a heart attack then a court appearance for neglect, Give me a decent car or a stuffed toy any day.

Family – utter pricks, you can choose your friends but your family can be vicious turds to you and it’s ok, they are family!

Talking about the weather – “Hey bob, nice day isn’t it?” “Yes Jeremy, until you turned up”. If you have nothing but an inane observation about the weather to contribute, why not make the sound of one hand clapping? I said clapping not Fapping right?

Your life story – You may think you are interesting and your views on the cost of stamps is riveting – what are stamps?

Your dissertation on what is wrong with the world – fix it then smart arse otherwise shut up you are drowning out the Vikings re-run.

Lemon or lime snakes, why make them, no one likes them, just make red flavour, orange, purple and blue – we like those.

Marmalade – like Jam but bitter – cool idea! How about lollipops that taste like mouldy vegetables too!

Its not me its you – Nice guys don’t finish last


I’m a bit bored by this whinny male thing were men go – “Chicks only dig arseholes” no, really, some maybe, but the thing is – Mr self-declared nice guy there might actually be some things about you that are not as nice as you think you are. Ha! Grammar fuck grammar this is serious!

The big urban myth is that ladies fall all Y-shaped over guys with money, that all we want id to be gold diggers, that’s horse shit, even if I take myself and all my friends out of the equation – and all of my buddies make more than their bfs/husbands and you little man. How many of you are mid to high six figure earners? None? Good I’ll keep going then.

The truth is you’ve been dumped not for being a nice guy, but for things other than that. Most of us would be happy with a nice guy, they are just really fucking rare – what all your mates are great guys too? How impossible of you – awesome! So all I have to do is find the WoW clan you belong to and the basement of your mum’s house you meet in, put up with your eau de not washed for a week, constant babble about clans and computers to win your heart? Babe I’m so blowing you tonight! (That was sarcastic in case you think I am going to).

Areas were ‘good guys’ lose girlfriends or never manage to pick one up.

1. We do not have X-men skills, unlike Professor Xavier we cannot detect you liking us from that dark corner of the pub that you keep staring at us until we look you way – then you quickly look elsewhere, to us you are displaying your serial killerness.

2. What I have to seduce you? You’re shy? Well fuck you, it took me two hours to look like this, I’m sitting here, in the light having a good time and being bubbly so someone will pay attention too me – oops too late the guy you think is an arsehole – but is actually really funny, charming and hot just got your date – here, have a drink on me to drown the bitterness!

3. That bit where I took 2 hours getting ready and you took 3 minutes to choose the least stanky clothes on your basement floor, then knocked one out – just in case you pick up and go off too fast then try to drown the smell of sweat and ejaculate in “Man ‘o war’ $0.50 at Kmart deo, we can tell, we have a sense of smell, it’s better than yours.

4. “Um, uh…” then a pause then the same again then can I buy you a drink isn’t much fun, nor are lines like “Do you have any Italian in you – would you like some?” They don’t work unless you deliver them with a violin case.

5. You finally get the nerve to ask us to dinner, then say nothing during the whole thing but talk about the weather and some game we’ve never played – excuse me while I go to the loo and runaway.

6. Two dates! Time to start whining for sex.

7. Tidy yourself up, the guy you think is an arsehole – that’s called hygiene and style.

8. Be witty, witty is like an aphrodisiac – but it works. Smart, interesting, talented, Jesus something! Think quick! I’ve had any number of awful dates where I had to try to fill the dead air with jokes witty observations and calls to my gf to pick me up at the back entrance at 8.30!

9. Are you into anything but the idea of getting into my pants? Seriously what do you think about, share something with me about a plan for the future, I’m not just going to hang out with you until my tits sag right.

10. Ok we are living together, you think that’s all you have to do, you don’t talk, you play games, you live in your own little world and suddenly when I go I’m a bitch. Pffft.

11. Not too strong, whoa up fireman, I’m not on fire, nor am I made of stainless steel, don’t be so rough, think of me as a kitten, do you poke kittens, be gentle and I’ll purr, don’t slap my arse when I walk by or tweak my nipple as a ‘joke’ what if kicked your balls as a joke?

12. Have friends, please, go do man things, I’ll go do girl things, then we’ll get home loaded and fuck like nasty animals. If we are in the same room together not doing anything I’ll have a time based headache I swear, bed time? Oooow!

13. Do something constructive with your time, drinking and being down on everything is not a hobby its something you can enjoy on your own.

14. I am independent, so are you, don’t try and make me your bitch, wife or cook, I don;t work two jobs for anyone.

15. Misuse of the word love, love is not covet, want to see your little pink bits, need, or a blackmail item.

16. You don’t own me, if you shit me, or I shit you we will break up, that’s no reason to start hating women because we didn’t live happily ever after, you’re a man right – fucking be one – take it on the chin (cough).

17. Farting, belching and coughing without putting your hand over your mouth is funny when you are twelve, there is a time when we get comfortable that we will do that in front of each other – you several years before me but don’t act like its charming.

Seventeen will do for this episode, but there are more – yes precious.

Shape up dudes, and dudettes too, none of this go out with a guy for a week and mourn him for a century shit, or be a bitch to a guy who follows you around like a puppy. let him grow into a proper man –  that attitude on really fucks our brand up.

The ides of October


One little superstition I have is the middle of the month, the Romans called this the ‘ides’ – You’ll remember Caesar was warned about the ides of march. Starts and ends of months never seem to be as dramatic as the end, this one in particular is two significant days for me.

I have now lived ten years on my own, parentless, without any contact with family whatsoever, part choice and part abandonment I have chosen to despise my family above all things, except my dad, my birth father, who as far as I have seen in my time is the one truly good member of my family.

I was fourteen years old when I last spoke to a member of my family, and even that was a series of breathtaking betrayals as far as I am concerned and in the ten years since I have not relented, not a bit. This hatred has kept me warm, been my guiding light when all things where cold and dark.

I have a strange relationship with this hatred, it’s the very thing I credit with my survival in my early teens and for that reason I tended it, gave it my heart to feed on and built a defence around it I feel a glow of self-pride about. This of course is a monstrous thing to do, its impact on me as been no less horrible as the very thing itself, true to the most torrid cliché you do become the engine of your own consumption. The monsters I imagined behind those walls are more than half me now.

Last weekend I was at my former apartment with my friend Emma, she was positively glowing at the fact that her parents have decided they are ok with her choice of lifestyle/work, she had also been without her family for years. On the Saturday afternoon I met her mother and father, on the Sunday I spoke with her mother and almost single-handedly destroyed much of my personal mythology, she offered me sympathy, a mother’s sympathy, I’ve been reeling ever since, how is this even possible? Not with my family, imagine that you spent almost half your life demonising only to discover there are no demons. I was delighted and appealed at the same time, it sickens me, literally, with self-doubt.

Imagine the most clear, hard fact in your life suddenly develop a fatal flaw. The most certain fact, non-dilutable, concentrated to hyper-venom suddenly turn to water, milk even. I have taken a series of disasters and made myself their poison. FML.

Secondly, less dramatic is tomorrow I will have been a blogger for two years, when I arrived at my first blog site I was much more guarded and unsure of what to say, being prodded into doing it, I almost immediately was surrounded by lovely people who taught and encouraged me to be myself, express myself and indulge myself. I’d never really been a creative person, my drawings as a child sucked, my essays in English stoic, unfluffy, direct and adequate. In my second part of high school, when I finished it as an adult my teacher – my English teacher guided my efforts and I have to credit him with a few pearls of wisdom which gave me a good start. Then a young friend of mine who also had faith in me, but, most especially all of my online buddies here. thank you. there is barely a one of you who haven’t in some way encouraged, guided and gifted me with your patience. I can be a horrible arse pain, whinny, needy and rough but you’ve all been very decent and nourishing.

The tie in – I haven’t had a mum since I was a girl, even then my mum wasn’t ever really a mum like most are, I more felt like a possession, a handbag – a cup dog, I’ve despised authority since then, being that most of the time its been fucking me, literally as well as figuratively, I’ve been defensive about myself to the point were I am suspect of everyone and everything’s agenda. But I have to say that largely I’ve had a positive experience opening up my story, sharing laughs and idiocy, theories and even just spinning shit with you all. I’d like to thank all of you for that.

I’ve made a few decisions lately, and torn down a few things, as much as this has changed things its also remained the same, life is a complex thing, it seems simple but is irreducibly both complicated and dizzyingly mono-structural. There were many times in my life that I thought, fuck me if this is how it is why keep going, but I did, for the sake of dad, who told me I should, and I have been grateful for more times than bitter. It’s not a movie, a script or a practice run, life is not a trial or an illusion it’s all we have and its the only thing we can make or not make into something. This place might very well collapse soon, but for me its had its effect, I am saner, more whole now for it and you. In a special way I do love you, but I’m still going to insist on a condom.

Little tittie ditty


Boyfriend, lover, husband, get into my pants
Bishop, Lawyer, policeman all took the chance

Tarquin the accountant loves to lick my bum and jerk
Such a boring profession needs its perks

Sweaty fatty bloody boombar, in his bespoke Italian car
Thinks it makes me giggle when he shoves his hand in my bra

Never would I do that, every man swears to God
When I close the door, its the opposite, how very fucking odd

Human is duplicity, to fall then repent
I don’t have your scruples dude, I’m for rent

Sweetest little harlot, peach and pink and lace
I’ll melt your icy heart, and let you fuck my face

That wasn’t very proper, really quite rude
I forget my manners being often in the nude

I wasn’t always like this I was raised to have some class
Bus sometimes life flips you over and fucks you in the arse.

So this is normal, how beastly…


I’m 24 years old, I’ve never had a job like you’ve had – if you don’t count petty theft, a failed attempt at drug dealing, moving contraband in jail and the odd jobs I now do to mostly kill time. From the tender age of 15 I was a whore and I stopped when I was 22. If I keep managing my money as well as I have I actually never would need to work again, even if I spent far more than I do now the money, investments and real estate would keep me very well for at least a few decades. Where I motivated by wealth I could find a nice upwardly mobile man, marry him, spit out a brat or two and join my peers at the gym and for Saturday brunch at Brighton beach, clearly I don’t feel that motivation. I’d rather go back to being a whore actually.

So I have been applying for such work as a non-uni but very well passed VCE student might get. I am phenomenally fast on a keyboard, and well spoken, well presented, good-humoured and I know how to ingratiate myself to strangers. I have a pleasant, refined accent, just don’t ask me to sing I’m fabulously tone-deaf and will probably damage your ears.

I haven’t had a great deal of luck especially living in butt fuck no-where central Victoria, I do stack up quite well against the local breed of females but a winning smile and a firm arse will only go so far when you are asked – “So do you have any experience?”

Not a lot that doesn’t include entertaining men no.

Bona Dea has smiled on her wayward daughter though and I have myself a casual job manning (womaning?) the phones, calling announcements and shuffling casual workers at a mill in a close by town – which the locals insist is a city. Who’d I have to fuck – well no one, strange as it seems to me, I remember eyeing off three other ‘girls’ as the lady called us and thinking, one is plain but passable – but I bet they all have credible history, me, well best not ask really, unless you want to see what I can do in the executive relief department?

I wonder how they fucked up the interview now, much more than how I managed not to fuck for the job. I’m nervous, laugh if you must, I’m not nervous meeting a stranger, seducing him and what not but the idea of 8 hours of things that normal people do – what do normal people do?

Life, it seems to me is largely winging it, make things up as you go, act like you know what you are doing, experiment and eventually you will know. Or have someone teach you, which I hope they do. So I decided I should try what ever it is you people do during the day, you know get a job? Beats trying to occupy myself from dawn till dusk.

Obviously I’ve spent most of the day picking an outfit, several actually, too dressy? Too young? Too much like I will put out? If only mother could see me now, harlot to “Good morning Scarlet speaking how may I help you?”

“As private parts to the gods are we! They play with us for their sport.”
Lord Melchett, Chains, Black Adder II

This product will change your life.


I went to uni almost two years ago, I decided that I needed a career, one that would make money, one that I could be proud of, say to people and they would think I was awesome and wasn’t selling myself for money. I chose a marketing degree, sadly I felt more a whore than I’ve ever felt. The entire focus of Marketing is to move product using whatever means necessary, there are no limits, it’s all fair as far as these people are concerned.

It’s often said that sex sells, that’s true but it’s an over simplification, this field researches paranoia, fear, avarice, jealousy, fervour, you name it with the sole purpose of making money, regardless of what they push, its effects on culture, humanity whatever.

It reminds me that wealth and the acquisition of it is as powerful a religion as any, like a cult the lecturers of this course stare incredulous at people who don’t dedicate their every living moment to the single minded pursuit of money. A great epiphany came to me one morning when I was attending a lecture on an individual called Abraham Maslow (google Maslow’s hierarchy of needs), anything can become a faith. If a person in authority has the thrall of the a crowd and promises them reward for their passion, dedication and rejection of what I would call an inherent social morality then there is no end to what they can abstractly promise and the fervour that they will receive back.

The man at the lectern, pulpit or street corner by virtue of whichever book he holds in front of him can convince normal people to achieve superlatives, kind or cruel. I don’t believe in a soul, but it felt revolting to be a part of that, even for someone like me who had marketed herself, lied and played a part, it felt like even my blood was being poisoned. It shocked me that no one of my peers felt anything but glee and prospect at what they were signing up for, so I quit.

It might be hypocritical of me to make judgements of others that push a product or a creed but everyone who has a tiny bit in them that hasn’t been beaten to death has a line that they won’t cross. True that can be forced or beguiled out of anyone, but this is the one thing that above all else disturbs me about this world, yes, everyone is a whore, it’s just a matter of degrees, but who really thinks about it? Who really questions?

There have been several attempts to convert me to a good Christian woman, earnest people who quote some passage that grants ‘a wretch like me’ the chance at a divine get out of jail free card, but I can’t even pretend I buy it, if I am open and honest and I look at everything I still come up with no. Threats of hell, slurs about my morality, promises of a community in which I would be loved, I just see the same thing I saw at uni. The same goes for politics, suspend all belief, trust the man, my country right or wrong…

If this is enough for you, I envy you in no small way, maybe I’m utterly corrupt, polluted whatever it might be, I just don’t buy anything any more, and its actually liberating. Walking away from a preposterous income and the lusting want of men was actually harder, for me, but it started a domino effect, now with everything I look for the precarious tiles of hidden persuaders, they why not of reality but of people who claim to understand it.

A product is following my blog on WordPress – Detol, its a disinfectant for cuts and all kinds of things A friend of mine said I should do a mock blog of ‘the lives of products’ I had a good laugh at that, I think I will. Once was lost, and all that.

“Girls, You can do anything”


I went to a very conservative high school they really didn’t take a lot of lip or attitude from you and you’d be suspended, or worse expelled. The first offence which could be anything from swearing to not doing your homework they called your parents and made you sit outside the office which was all glass so that other girls could snigger at you and spoke to your mum and dad about what happens next.

Next was a suspension, they gave you a week or two were you were banned from school grounds, you would still be expected to do your work by the way. This was a disaster to us, to be suspended mean’t that you were marked and a failure. Last came expulsion, there were things that would get your arse thrown out immediately, like fighting, physical fighting, that was out, see you, the end.

Of course it was bitchy, 1500 girls together? Yes, there were bullies but they had to be careful, bullying was one of those immediate expulsion offences, so they had to keep it lean, most of the time they did that after school.

So the environment was driven for results, the entire school was focused on producing well scoring girls who went to uni, that was on all the literature, posters and website for the place, but one thing they really did drum into you was that despite what people said of females on TV and the outside world we were the equal of any boy/man, and possibly better.

Our school averaged in the top five of the country, we were taught to have pride in that, and we did, as far as it went we strove for the best, when they gave us tests they would talk about national and international standards. To be taught in such a way was exhilarating, from your first year to be told to aim for the stars gave you the courage to do it. As stuffy and conservative as it was, I really wish all girls were taught that way, it worked for me.

That may sound spurious considering that I went on to become a whore but I tell you this much, as shit as life gets it’s worth remembering that whatever task you have, whatever horror is before you, nine times out of ten if you set your mind to it, you can overcome it.

Many of you will not have had that kind of privilege, yes that’s true, but bear in mind that at 14 I left home, my education was worthless on the street, my inner urban snootiness was something that marked me for particular hatred. I adapted, I learned to modify my behaviour to suit my circumstance, eventually I ended up in Juvenile detention, again I adapted, I can’t say it wasn’t hard, it’s the closest thing to hell inside as I can imagine but I lived.

When I got out I had nothing, no where to go, no money no possibility for employment so I did what I was offered. I wish I hadn’t, I really do, there are some things in life a woman should never have to do, some things you just cannot wash out of shake off. Chances are you have some of those issues as well, abuse, rape, bullying, you might not be what people think is attractive, you might not do well at school all kinds of things. You’ll hate yourself, some of you will see nothing before you but a life of disappointment and loneliness, would it surprise you that most people feel like that at least for one period in their lives? The truth is life is struggle, the dreamy Hollywood idea that you will meet Price Charming and he will make you feel like a part of a whole and look after you is a fairy tale.

It’s a tough world out there, most of us when we are growing up don’t realise it, we think it will be different for us, we’ll change the world, luck will be with us, our guardian angel will look out for us.

If that happens I don’t know who to, I’ve never met anyone like that, for me, and I bet you, life looked rosy at some point then reality arrived.

Hard, yes it is, but there are paths for you, you may not like them, they will be difficult, you will doubt yourself, you might lose loves, fall on hard times but take it from someone who has been through a meat grinder, it is possible to survive, to live life fully after seemingly endless abuse and heart break. Because you are female is not a curse, it’s not a hindrance, its just harder, you don’t have to become hard inside, you just have to put your shoulder against the door and push, and push and push. It will be difficult and you will want to give in, I did, but I did manage to get to the other side.

There were many times I wanted to give up, sometimes I felt numb and empty, cold and unwanted, but eventually I came to understand that we, not others make ourselves, that I am not the sum total of failure and disgust, I am changed, I will do what I need to do to get by. I stopped suffering my life, regretting it and let myself live.

I always remember my principal standing up on the stage saying that, and she was right, Girls can do anything.