Everything you see is a lie

I left the lid to Pandora’s box unhinged, so

that I might see some of the light filter down

And feel the warmth of sun-rays in-between.


Sometimes the tales that we never look for

Become the stories that we have always told:

Histories scratched into our beating hearts.


She’s fragile, nervous, petrified in layered ice

The crystal knight moves to fish her from the

gloom. A brave gesture, it may seem so.


She won’t struggle, stricken limp with purity

You’ll wring her dry, smooth out angel wings

And entrap her to your breast’s eternal tomb.


Pull back the petals, tear them from their roots

And stamp them into your precious collection

The delicate flower vignette, now preserved.


You admire these tireless tomes in your mind,

The mental shelf  of your fortune so wealthy, weighted;

it’s a wonder that you do not cower and break.


You keep a treasure trove of glistening corpses,

still warm with the breath of roses that you stole,

and a-fixed so cleanly to your worn secret map.


But sometimes I spit fire, to keep myself warm.

I will maim you, I will mark you and I will cut you:

To sculpt beauty from the ashes of your flaws.


So tell me: when will you stop listening to me?

And teach me where you were taught to stare

In all emptiness, without the light of a soul.


The Online Dating Minefield

It has become the norm, perhaps even passé (are you over online dating yet?) to find love, or even just casual sex using social media and the internet. Wind back a few years and you’d be getting bewildered reactions and cautions against creeps and freaks if you mentioned hooking up with someone through the web.

Nonetheless, pitfalls and embarrassing moments still wait to entrap us. I’ve been using dating apps on and off for a few years now, sometimes with ‘success’ and other times with atrocious, but thankfully fleeting dating experiences. Here are some of the aspects of using apps like ‘tinder’ and ‘happn’ that I’d be happy to have terminated, lovingly illustrated by the stars of Ru Paul’s Drag Race…

1. People with embarrassing, arrogant profiles

I genuinely don’t understand this. Perhaps I’m being too harsh and finicky for my own good, but I just find some people’s online descriptions of themselves far too embarrassing to comprehend.

One gentleman had a series of presentation slides as his photographs, with each slide listing reasons why he would make a good date/boyfriend, overall urging me to ‘swipe right’ or regret it.

Another profile proudly said that if one didn’t find him attractive then it was necessary to ‘raise ur standardz.’ Okay.

Just be concise and honest about yourself.


And if you’re truly struggling to sum yourself up in a couple of sentences then you may need to spend some time alone, reflecting on your own character and personality, before you lunge face-first into the dating pool.


2. The ‘Bug-a-Boo’

So you’ve matched up with someone or whatever. Soon enough, you receive a message:


It’s short and uninteresting, and you’re probably too busy or not in the mood to reply to it right now. I mean, first of all there’s no effort put into that sort of greeting at all, as it leaves the direction of the conversation with only a muddy, vague potential. Where’s the friendly question to get things going?

So you choose to ignore the message for now. That’s fine. You don’t owe this stranger anything. But they seem to view this situation a little differently, and deem it appropriate to message the heck out of you until they finally get a response to their desperate, one-sided communications.


Oh and get ready for the possibility of sudden volcanic bursts of anger and vitriol directed your way . Or in the worse case scenario a butt-hurt round of guilt-trippery:

“I guess I’m just not handsome enough for you m’lady. Which is a shame because were you to get to know me, you’d be able to appreciate me for the true gentleman that I am.”




3. The ‘Sexy Pic’ Pest

We’ve all experienced this. The eye-roll inducing, wheedling persistence for a ‘sexy photo’.  Even after you’ve said no. It’s downright pathetic. And not to mention that we’ve just started talking? !! You only learned of my existence on this earth a few hours ago!


There are plenty of reasons why a person might not want to send a suggestive or nude picture; a lack of confidence, a belief that ‘nudes’ are abhorrent or tacky, or by having the view that waiting until you are physically together to unveil themselves is the best route for a relationship. I have nothing against nude photos, or people choosing to send them to one another, but for goodness sake, respect a person’s wishes. People say no for a reason, and they shouldn’t have to justify why to the likes of you. Slime over to PornHub if you’re that desperate to see some naked flesh.


4. The ambiguous set of group photos

Just which one ARE you?! You’re already setting me up for annoyance by proposing a puzzle of deduction before we’ve even said hello.

And the sad thing is, when you do make the effort to work out which one they are, it’s never the ‘hot’ one.




5. No relevant photos at all.

Some people just have photos of memes. Honestly. Trying to showcase your dazzling wit, are we?

And one person I stumbled across on Tinder had only one photo, and it was of a bird of prey of all things. It was a very nice, high-res photo of a flying falcon, I must admit. But how am I supposed to navigate Tinder as it was designed, and make a judgement on you from such an image? Just one selfie would suffice. Please.



6. The Pseudo-Philosophical Twat

Textbook depth. From the very beginning it feels like a job interview, or an interrogation. But the questions are very weird, like they were ripped from the faux-deep cranium of a committed stoner-brain. And they come flying out of nowhere with no explanation or build-up.

“Do you feel the need for constant change in your life?”

“Are we both weird, or just wonderfully unique?”

“What do you think about the passage of time?”



7. That Awkward First Date

I waited with a friend of mine one night, having pre-drinks in Soho before she was supposed to meet up with a guy she’d been talking to via a dating app. This was their First Date and she was understandably a little nervous. When you’ve never been in the company of somebody before, you just have no clue what kind of dynamic is going to emerge. Chemistry could naturally bloom and result in a pleasant experience that you’ll want to arrange for again. Or, a pervasive, flat atmosphere could have you wishing for a black hole to suddenly squish your body and soul into oblivion.

Apparently my friend’s date walked like a clown and made no effort in conversation. Stellar.

Heed my warning. Being stuck alone in awkward situations with strangers, for prolonged periods of time, are SOUL-DESTROYING.

So before you summon the courage to ask, or respond with a ‘yes’ to the arrangement of a date, consider if this total stranger is likely to be worth such a risk. Or if you have the money to spend on enough alcohol to get sloshed into apathy.



8. Trying WAY too Hard

I’m so guilty of this. The amount of times I’ve socially sinned – making awful goofy jokes; replying back far too quickly and keenly; using a staggering amount of emoticons to seem engaged and cute. Ugh. Just push me down a tall set of stairs please. Where is that tiny voice in the back of my head to seize me by the lapels and tell me to cALM the FUCK DOWN?!


Unfortunately, when you’re attracted to somebody’s appearance and they appear to have a personality that you’re sure would gel nicely with you’re own, then it’s incredibly hard not to figuratively flail and prance around like a lunatic.

I know. Not only are they gorgeous but they seem genuinely interested in you too, and it’s amazing, I get it.

Trust me. Wind it back a few gears – you probably look like a giant twat.

Looks by Luisa – ‘My Boyfriend is a Biker’

Welcome to my first fashion ‘Outfit of the Day’ blog post, or a ‘Looks by Luisa’ article. I want to share some of my daily style choices with you guys, as I believe fashion is a huge part of self-expression and can tell you a lot about a person’s personality. It would be really cool if anyone happened to be inspired by my stylistic choices too! So here goes, Look Number One…

A leather jacket is a classic staple in any fashionista’s wardrobe. It can be thrown on to punk up a simple outfit, or to take a dress effortlessly from day to nightwear. I personally love taking the fashion associations of a leather jacket – motorbikes, rock and roll, punks etc. –  and pushing them into my aesthetic. So today, I’m wearing black and chrome-plated items with cutesy-casual touches, like my velvet headband and tiger-head backpack.

The plaid shirt knotted around my waist is to add a grungy, don’t-care aspect to the look, along with other ‘grunge-inspired’ accessories like the choker and rounded sunglasses. Overall I wanted the look to say: ‘Yeah my boyfriend is a tough, gruff dirty biker boy. I sometimes borrow his clothes – and I look super-cute when I do it.’

Luisa X

P.S Luisa is my middle name, for anyone confused. It’s the alias that I’m choosing to blog as from now on.

So where’s it all from?:

Top – ladygaga.com

Chain necklace – Firetrap

Yin-yang choker – Topshop

Dungaree dress – theraggedpriest.com

Plaid shirt – Urban Outfitters

Tiger backpack – ebay.com

Spiked bracelet – Primark

Sunglasses – American Apparel

Spiked ring – Zara

Cross ring – Topshop

Leather jacket – Topshop

Headband – American Apparel

Boots – Demonia

A vaguely bizarre summer experience

Look at this mug. Hideous isn’t it? IMG_0764

It’s one unique addition to the mug collection in my family home that I’m oddly fond of. The grotesque tea and coffee coloured smears aren’t the stains of long-term use: they’re part of the design. The mug has always looked this tragically ugly. It was originally purchased as an ironic joke for my father’s birthday. But it was the place it came from that truly still reeks of nostalgia for me.

When me and my younger sister were pre-teens, our parents would take us on an annual summer holiday trip to Braunton in Devon. With two demanding brats in tow, it was a daily puzzle for my parents to try and find something to entertain two kids who were too young to understand the pleasures of quiet relaxation. After days out to the beach had run their course in terms of keeping me and my sister satisfied, my parents would dig up some old leaflets that advertised attractions in the local area.

Very quickly we ended up putting a line through most of the available sources of entertainment, until very few options remained. We were a little sceptical of the vibrant enthusiasm with which it was advertised in the leaflet, but we finally selected an attraction.

So what was the final decision?

Watermouth Castle. One of Devon’s ‘Top Family Attractions’ apparently.

The day already looked miserable, with grey clouds clustered overhead and only the faintest glow of light filtering in-between. It looked perpetually poised to drizzle in a most miserable and disheartening fashion. Such is the nature of British weather. We all piled into the car, and my mother drove us through the endlessly meandering roads, framed by jewel-green, rain-soaked hedges and fields.

We finally arrived. The castle was modest in size, lacking any of the imposing majesty of the castles in my imagination. Once inside, I was awed to discover that the whole attraction invariably aped the atmosphere of a bona fide ghost-town. There was not another soul to be found, anywhere. For once, me and my sister weren’t tempted to tear about a new environment like a pair of animals, chasing one another and screeching loudly. We were both rather subdued by the strange, musty aura of the castle. It felt poised on a state normally attributed to post-apocalyptic scenarios: the brink of disrepair and abandonment. watermouthcastleatrocities

Misshapen, eerie dolls and sculptures were dotted throughout Watermouth both inside and out, as though the creator had envisioned a creepy treasure trail. The slightly frightening exhibits attempted to charm, but instead invited confusion and an unnerving of the senses. I felt sorry for the little creatures. My immature mind imagined them twitching to life and studying us, just at the moment we looked away. After all, we were strangers and trespassers into their world.

Eventually exhausted by taking in such oddity at every turn, we fell upon the advertised ‘courtyard cafe’ with relief. Finally some normality, surely. My sister opted for a simple snack: chips with cheese. What arrived at our little wooden picnic bench was cardboard-like and weirdly lukewarm. My sister was appropriately disgusted. Strangely, I can barely remember what any of the staff looked like, they didn’t seem to make much eye contact or talk very much. uglywatermouththings

After the cafe, the last leg of the journey through Watermouth was inevitably the gift shop. This is where my mother, sister and I discovered the ugly brown mug, adorned with the phrase ‘GRUMPY OLD MAN’, available for purchase as a present for a loved one presumably. My mother chuckled at its hideous appeal, deciding it was the perfect irksome gift for my father; a man who is wont to occasionally lapse into amusing moods of grumpiness, when he’s particularly stressed, tired or hungry. He found the mug hilariously disgusting, when it was finally presented to him.

The gift shop itself was filtered in bizarre hues of yellow and amber, with uneven dark wood shelves jutting straight from the swollen walls. I guess it was attempting to resemble the cottage interior of some form of cutesy magical creature, but it instead only succeeded in invading my bones with a pervasive, damp, chillness that didn’t dissipate until we had driven off the premises.

I’m quite an intuitive individual. I quite quickly feel and make a judgement about the atmosphere of a place, and even of individual people, and my judgments usually turn out to be accurate over time. The aura exuded by Watermouth Castle was decidedly one of vaguely other-worldly origins, my childlike mind concluded. Perhaps it was one of those places where the veils between this world and any potential, shadowy neighbouring worlds are thin… perhaps bizarre energy was leaking through and permeating the castle environment with a pervasive eeriness.

I was suitably fascinated by such a strange, warped environment, where everything was accidentally skewed towards ugliness. Overall, I realised that it’s important to always be alert and keep your eyes open, for inspiration lies everywhere. This atrocious little mug serves as a reminder that oddities are dotted across the world, in hidden places, lying in wait for discovery for an open-minded soul.

What I’ve been trying to say, in a long-winded, pretentious fashion, is to never quite switch off when exploring a new environment, as you could stumble across something memorable and even inspiring. In it’s way, Watermouth makes me think of how so many historical areas of Britain are being left behind, and gently crumbling and eroding with the passage of time. Falling back into the shadows and natural embrace of the land itself, and transforming into oddities to be uncovered. I hope to come across more of these environments in future, and document how they make me feel.

Keep your curiosity alive, and keep exploring.


Photograph credit goes to http://www.watermouthcastle.com

The “Cool Girl” – Reasons why you can’t please everyone

I must confess, I am a little obsessed with the premise of Gone Girl. All that anger stemming from a betrayal of the heart, funnelled into such calculated, meticulous revenge – it’s fascinating, in the best, most macabre way. Unfortunately I haven’t gotten around to reading the novel, so I can only speak in the context of the film (which blew me away, not gonna lie). In particular I found myself relating to Amy Dunne’s infamous “Cool Girl” rant. She talks about how, after setting her heart on her future husband, she tailored herself to his wants in order to appear irresistibly appealing – the perfect girl, in other words. She essentially cons ‘Nick’ into falling for her, hook line and sinker. A pretty twisted way to go about cultivating a relationship, you might think, and I wouldn’t completely disagree with you. However, I also feel a deep sympathy for Amy, for it is insecurity in her own adequacy that motivates her to be so manipulative in the first place. And that got me thinking about my own daily worries concerning self-worth.

I feel, after some reflection over my short life experiences thus far, that I’ve existed far too often for the sole purpose of people-pleasing. I battle with myself about my flaws – it’s part of who I am to analyse my own shortcomings so I can recognise them fully and then proceed to take a scalpel to them whenever possible. I’m a prime example of a perfectionist. Self-alteration is almost an emotional safety net for me.

I’ll start at the beginning of this ‘self-altering’ process that I’m talking about; falling in love. It’s hard for me to find myself romantically involved with anyone, most likely because I have a warped sense of pride that leaps in to prevent me from even admitting to myself that I might have feelings for another person. If I find myself falling for someone, it becomes a game of mental hide-and-seek, as on one hand I try to coax myself into allowing some semblance of love to begin forming, and on the other I diligently push any snippets of emotion away into my memory ‘trashcan’, in the hope that they’ll eventually go away. Hence why it’s usually hard to guess if I’m attracted to a person, as I go out of my way to hide it, even from myself. It’s a ridiculous form of repression that I don’t recommend to anyone else. But attraction is incredibly hard to ignore if it endures. If you find yourself recognising your own behaviour in my descriptions, then please read on, I have some advice for you.

I think I can explain why I’m like this, why I’m so reluctant to open myself up to other people. After some thought, I’ve gathered that it all lies in within my personal history, specifically to do with past rejections. Of course, heartbreak is an awful thing to experience, after so vulnerably placing your trust in the hands of another human being. It makes you want to seal away your heart forever, so it can’t be battered and bruised again. But inevitably no matter how hard you tell yourself that emotions and love are a weakness, you do come across somebody new, who you feel compelled to draw close to yourself. After all, you have so much pent up affection to give! This time though, you tell yourself, you’ll be ‘smart,’ you won’t lose the game this time – you’ll make an offer they can’t refuse. And out comes the knife. Like an amateur surgeon you’ll butcher yourself for the sake of someone else’s attraction, hoping that this time, that will guarantee the absence of a painful goodbye. Whether you edit your speech, alter your sense of style or mirror their likes and dislikes, you’re sandpapering your own personality into something crude and shadowy in the name of being somebody else’s idea of perfection.

I’ve come to realise that it isn’t weak to be in love with somebody, or to even have a minor attachment. Being open to heartache isn’t a flaw; it’s part of the human experience, and ultimately is strengthening, as it gives us a chance to reflect on what does, and doesn’t work for us in relationships. It’s far more destructive and damaging to convince somebody else to be in love with a façade. True strength lies in accepting when he or she “just isn’t that into to you,” and being okay with that and moving on.

As Dita Von Teese so wonderfully put it, “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.” You can’t be everyone’s Great Star of Africa – some people think jewels are just absurdly gaudy signposts of wealth, no matter how highly praised they are by everyone else. In other words, you can’t help how somebody else reacts towards your existence, you can’t help who you are. And you especially shouldn’t assume that everyone is going to react in similar ways. Unfortunately, our subconscious seems hellbent on creating cruel emotional situations that go against such simple logic. Sometimes we find ourselves developing feelings for those random strangers that have an inbuilt aversion to what we personally have to offer. And it really fucking hurts when we realise this. That’s just life. So it only makes sense to make effective use of our ever-depleting time spent being alive, and make the logical decision to move on as soon as possible, from those who are ‘ill-disposed to peaches’, instead of wasting valuable time, energy and emotion on trying to mutilate ourselves into something we are not.

Amy Dunne would most likely scoff at my advice. But we aren’t fictional characters, and therefore we have the choice to behave unabashedly as ourselves. To fetter our personality with falsehoods for the sake of another person is futile; you can’t build a lasting, healthy relationship on lies. And to blur the lines of your true self and the cultivated self in due course, only serves to heap a whole lot more psychological damage onto yourself when the relationship inevitably comes to an end. Hence why some relationships end and leave you feeling like you’ve lost a limb, or can’t quite collect who you actually are into a cohesive, functional picture anymore.

There’s a quote, from one of my favourite artists, that my parents got engraved onto one of my possessions for my 18th birthday, and I think it’s time I started to pay it a little more attention; “Be unique and different… shine in your own way.” – Lady Gaga. Revel in your true self; its an effortless state of being, and those worthy of your company will find that more than enough. Those who don’t, aren’t worth your time.