Ina Disguise's Blog: New blog, page 52

Bliss

I made a lot of errors today, fixed them, and probably made some more.  I am very happy.

The incredibly beautiful man wore a hideous shirt, which also made me extremely happy.

Today was a good day, all things considered.

The mind is a strange thing, isn’t it?

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Pests on mobile

Wouldn’t it be great if everyone was obsessed with TV, movies and buying more crap?

Wouldn’t it be fine if nobody actually did anything themselves and relied on Sky to tell them what to buy from other people?

If you took a character from a Jane Austen novel and dropped them into Glasgow City Centre, they would sound pretty weird to you too. I can count the number of people in my home town that I have told about this website on one hand.

I am just as delighted to be weird as you are to sit and stare at this website. Please go and actually create something.  That is the whole point.

Thanks,

Ina

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The Happy part of the week

Let us see how long it takes for me to become a basket case this week.   So far I am quite happy.

As I was explaining this week, and further to someone this evening, the problem is not other people, the problem is me.  My responses to the world are a bit like a cavewoman in a sophisticated nightclub at the moment.

I am very willing to try and not be so fractious, but I will probably make a run for it again at the first sign of any problems.

Thank you for your patience.

Just to re-iterate.  Work is not my current playpen, and I find it hard to forgive myself when I do something wrong. I have Ina Disguise to let off steam, so I have no real excuses not to be a model staff member.

As long as I am not pissing anyone else off, I am happy.

 

 

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Sheesh that time already?

I seem to be writing a post every 12 hours or so at the moment, I will not be doing this for long but it is interesting watching the analytics.

This week has been enormously stressful for me, but when I look at the posts I don’t seem nearly as crazy as it felt.

The bottom line seems to be that I cannot cope with being a human, and very small things can set me off on a massive tangent.

This is no good.  I need to focus on one thing and do it.

I have stuff to read, and very serious stuff to write.  I also have to come up with a proper shooting schedule before we tour.

If it wasn’t for the recurring panic of being in the proximity of SB, I would be a bit more settled I think.  I am in that horrible state of ‘cannot bear to be there, cannot bear not to be.’  I feel about twelve years old.  It really isn’t cool.

I also have a massive responsibility to this place, and a lot of work to do.

Also, thinking about last night’s post, I wonder if I really should rely on the compulsion as much as I do?  Sixteen hours a day hammering at a carpet is not really a substitute for an adult life.

I do like making beautiful things out of bad situations though.  It makes life worthwhile.

Anyway, I will ask about the name issue if I feel brave and am far away enough, and take my written request in to work.  It is probably safer for all concerned if I am not near enough for the little sex rockets to take over and decide for me, which they seem very inclined to do.

I daresay there will be another story this week. Sigh.

Ina

 

 

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Style developments

Well, it looks as if SB is getting a whole book, so I will have to actually ask if I can use his whole name when it is finished.  It is a lot more difficult with private individuals.

I have finalised the plans for the artwork for him, and it is very elaborate, but a distinct development of the Ina Disguise brand, moving a step on from a combination of the Wolfe and Boris work with a heavy dash of Maroc.  I have got it down to a six to twelve month job so far, but I will not be starting it until the shoes are out and the toby jugs for Boris are done, so a few months down the track.  I do not want to be using initials when I put stuff on the website.  This is going to be incredibly awkward, given that the situation I am in at work means that I would rather not speak to him about anything other than work.  I suppose asking this question is about work really.

I have no idea how people manage to make things so complicated.  I have had the sense from him more than once that he would quite enjoy a direct argument, and I am not at all interested.  I take my fury out as Ina, so by the time I get to work I am defused and usually rather miserable about the whole thing.  It is not good for your self-image to constantly be in the wrong about shit that is nothing to do with you really.

I will also ideally have to change shifts now, to avoid upsetting him and a third party and  as a side-benefit for the benefit of the Boris project.  This will not stop the flow of the work at all, but it is going to cause a few problems for other people, who apparently have enormous problems doing it.

Don’t ask me why I seem to be so prolific with SB, because I have no idea.  I am guessing it is something to do with stress but the creative links are coming very fast indeed.  Looking at how I was with Wolfe from the blog, I see that anger plays a part, but things kicked off with Wolfe because Wolfe and I were so under one another’s skin from the beginning that it was very easy for us to push each other’s buttons and see what happened.  It is difficult to describe, but by the time we had four words typed a whole year or five of communication had gone by.  I am used to big characters, so I am guessing it was unusual for him to have someone engage the way I did.  One of my many odd features is that I could not care less how much fame or money you have.

With Boris, I have very structured ideas in comparison.  I have a firm idea of what picture I want to paint and why I want to do it.  I genuinely have huge affection for Boris, but there is none of the irrationality there is with Wolfe or SB, although I am very much aware that Boris has strong shark qualities just as Wolfe does.

I am getting close to the physical state required for intense sewing, which is repressed lust-rage.  It is not very healthy at all, but it does involve a lot of 16 hour days crouched over whatever I happen to be making and it does get things done.

Woke up this morning and could not go anywhere until I got Life without Shame done.  This means that SB has somehow managed to induce an escalation of my creative flow to the point that it is almost entirely compulsive.  I am impressed with the improved linking in the story, but rather confused as to why it had to be a Catholic story.  It made its point very neatly however, so I am quite pleased with it.

No idea where this is headed at all, so stay tuned to find out what happens in story 4 I guess?  We shall see how SB manages to make my life less pleasant this week. (honestly, try not to – I know you read these.  Please try not to.)

 

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Life without Shame

To my beloved Wolfe, who I still cannot mention without weeping, and to SB, the gift that just keeps on giving. (pause for more weeping)

“What are you giving up for lent, Sonia?” the old priest smiled at the little woman. Sonia was considered an old spinster in the small Italian town they lived in. Small, fat, grey-haired. Ordinary, in that invisible way where she had never been a threat or amounted to anything.

“Shame, father. I thought I would give up shame for lent. Forty days of not feeling bad about anything.”

“Now you know that probably won’t work well, don’t you? Would you like me to explain why God might not like that?”

“No, father. If I do something wrong, I will confess. I want to try this.” Sonia was determined. “I might give up cured meat too.” she tried to appease him with this offering.

“Well, I cannot say this is a good decision, Sonia. Let me know if you get into trouble.” the priest shook his head. Really, he thought, at her age. Perhaps it would be quite funny?

Sonia returned home to prepare for work at the bakery she worked in, feeling that she had made a good decision. God couldn’t possibly want her to go through life invisible, could he? Surely God liked happiness?

Looking through her wardrobe, she saw a sea of dowdy clothing. She looked at her frizzy, dry grey hair and thought this looked dull too. God, she felt, was probably bored looking at her anyway. She went next door to the chemist and bought a red hair dye. She figured she had time to do something before she went to work to express her month of freedom.

Half an hour later, Sonia was impressed by the change. She wasn’t young, she thought, but she certainly looked more cheerful. She selected her least comfortable brassiere from the dresser, and pushed her breasts into a showy cleavage by adjusting the straps. Yes, that was better, she thought.

Digging throught the wardrobe, the best she could come up with at short notice was a rather sheer black blouse, which she really just had to wear over a sturdy vest at funerals but which allowed her to show her new cleavage, and a pencil skirt, which she had not worn for some time. She was a little saggier than she remembered, but she remedied this by shaving her legs and wearing tights.

Standing for several hours at work would not be fun in heels, she thought, so she used her fluffy black mules, which simply looked rather more frivolous than her usual slippers at work.

Feeling rather daring, she applied some lipstick and a little mascara. Her mother would say she looked like an old tart, God rest her soul. Sonia was thrilled by her transformation.

She picked up her handbag, put the required items in it to maintain her new look, and went to work. No cakes for her today, she thought, she did not feel like eating today.

The baker did not recognise her at first. “Sonia?” he was aghast. Younger than her, and yet set in his ways, he did not like change.

“Yes! I am celebrating Lent!” Sonia put her handbag in its customary place under the counter and started work. The mules were not all that comfortable, but she was aware that he was staring at her ankles, which pleased her enormously.

Maria was her first customer of the day, in to buy the bread for her enormous extended family. She was suitably shocked.

“Ah, how are you Sonia?” Maria thought this was clearly some sort of mid-life crisis. “Feeling OK?”

“It is a beautiful day to celebrate Jesus! How are you, Maria!” Sonia smiled at her, revealing excellent white teeth.

“Well, you know, Brigitta is expecting again. You know how these things are…” Maria felt she was on safer ground now, talking about herself was always limitless with Sonia, since Sonia had a dull and lonely life on her own.

“No! I have no children! I have no idea!” Sonia did not feel the need to be sensitive, since Maria had never been particularly nice to her. “Have a nice day!”

Next, a beautiful young man came in to purchase a cake for his workplace. Spying her cleavage, he took his time over picking, making her bend into the cake cabinet for some time. She stood upright after a few minutes of this. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

“You are very beautiful, young man, but I have not time for this.” she shook her head. “Life is too short, beauty.”

He laughed “I’ll take the strawberry one.”

“Huh! Furthest away! You are very cheeky too!” She leaned in again and picked up the cake, struggling slightly.

“I will see you tomorrow?” The young man blushed slightly as he asked her. “You work here now?”

Sonia felt it was probably unnecessary to tell him she had been there for years. “Yes! I will be delighted to serve you again!” she hummed a happy tune as she tidied the counter.

Sonia’s mood further improved as the day wore on. She wasn’t invisible any more. Word of her transformation spread around the town remarkably quickly, and towards the end of the day her old ‘friends,’ who had never bothered with her in the past, suddenly started asking her how she was. She revelled in the fact none of them actually asked her what had caused this change.

After work, she went to the market and bought some brighter clothing. She was enjoying herself for the first time in years. She almost danced as she picked brightly coloured skirts and shoes for work. A lively man of her own age waltzed her around the square briefly as she made her way out, buying herself some flowers for her house. She supposed this was vanity, yet another sin.

She put the flowers in her front window, clearly visible to the people passing her house. She put on a yellow skirt and green blouse, and giggled at the combination of this and her new hair colour. She sang to herself as she considered new paint colours. Soon, there was a knock at the door. Her neighbour, having been gossiping with the local women, had come to see the apparition of Sonia without shame. She stood at the door, staring at her balefully.

“Anita! How nice to see you. Would you and Franco like to come for drinks? I have some Wine and olives from the market? You can come before your dinner!”

“Eh, sure. I will go get him.” Anita returned to fetch her tired husband.

As they entered, Sonia kissed them both hello, “You are so handsome Franco, you need to get more sleep!”

This was too much for Anita “What on earth is going on?” She was outraged. “What are you doing?”

Franco felt the trickle of male hormone, the colour returning to his tired face “What do you mean, Anita? The lady is paying me a compliment, no? She doesn’t mean anything by it?”

“Sonia has never been like this before, look at the breasts, the hair, the teeth! What is going on?” Anita demanded. She looked angrily at Sonia.

“Life is beautiful. We should celebrate!” Sonia stepped back and did a little twirl before breaking into song. She had a fine operatic voice that nobody had previously heard. “Let us drink!” She broke open the wine. Franco smiled.

Anita tried redirecting the conversation to gossip, but neither Sonia nor Franco were interested. They wanted to talk about travelling, good wine, where to find good olives. It turned out they both loved to swim, so they talked about good places to go for that. Anita was furious.

“We are not coming here again.” she fumed “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend. Those other people in the town, they are none of my business. Life is for living, not talking about others.”

“It is OK, Sonia, I think I need to take Anita on holiday.” Franco looked worn. “Thank you for the wine. You look great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Sonia was nearly in tears. She had not meant to upset her neighbours.

As the 40 days wore on, the bakery became busier and busier. Sonia talked the baker into repainting the frontage, gypsy flowers replacing the plain green tatty paintwork that had been there before. Musicians would choose to play nearby, so that people buying lunch could listen and give them their change. Sonia put potted plants and tables outside. The baker was exhausted. The priest was unhappy.

“When are you going to be pious and humble Sonia again? This won’t do!”

“Oh, my darling, never.” Sonia threw up her hands. “Because eternity is right now!”

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The importance of being shameless

A great amount of the last ten years has been taken up by considering one statement, which was originally from Twisty.  I used it in Best Scandal Ever, when Kira teases Aldous by announcing her intention to marry Sam Redwood, despite not knowing him or even particularly liking him at the time.  This conversation, in common with many others in the books, actually happened.  The real Aldous is a depressed and underconfident person who frequently needs to be shocked into forgetting how miserable he is for a few hours.

Anyway the quote from Twisty is:

“Famous people are just normal people minus the sense of shame.”

As pearls of wisdom go, this is one of his better ones.  It is perfectly true.  All the stuff you tell yourself about what you can and cannot do is largely about shame.

Likewise, as I was saying the other day about major religions determining which emotions you should focus on, such religions rely heavily on shame to keep you in your place.

Whilst pondering the enormous quantity of negative information that had been disseminated about Wolfe, buried now but very easy to find nine years ago or so, I considered how much of this information was useful, and how much was simply envy.  Shame and envy pair nicely together if you want to keep people in their place.

TV and other media like to focus on these, as buying products and paying for them uses up a great deal of people’s time, rather than thinking for themselves or other equally dangerous pursuits.

As a repressive artist, who has habitually used shame, amongst other emotions,  as a source of energy to create objects, shame is kind of useful to me, although it certainly isn’t useful when considering how to see a return for my work.  It is my best friend and my worst enemy.

I was obviously horrified by recent events, but only some of it is my fault, and even then I am a victim of evident physical issues and a lack of boundaries because of a variety of other factors.  It is much easier to deal with if it is all your fault, because then you have the option of taking action.

I’m a lot calmer than I was a few days ago, and I don’t really think I should beat myself up over it any more.  It is very sad that my first impression was wrong, but I shouldn’t really be surprised or angry about it. Shit happens.  It’s very sad.

Overall, I think I have seen massive improvement in some areas from dealing with my Wolfe issues.  Now I need to focus on physical confidence and the shamelessness of disseminating information, both of which are a step forward in terms of ridding myself of shame.  Once I have dealt with this, then I will have to focus on becoming more arrogant in order to return to the work I was doing when I met him.

I definitely feel more inclined to say what I have to say and to hell with it than I used to.  I don’t feel as smart or as serious as I used to, but perhaps that is a good thing as it actually gets the words onto the paper, as opposed to feeling like one of my friends, who despite being an international political journalist, cannot bring herself to publish a book, even under another name, in case anyone finds out.

Shame is not useful, and it is there to keep you in your place.  It is probably a good idea to work on that.

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On Being Boris

Things I have learned from today:

I am definitely a girl.  I need to work on that.  Even strapping the mammaries up failed to prevent my giving the game away with girly movements, particularly with my giant hands, oddly.  People seemed somewhat aroused by watching my ex suffocate me with duct tape, however, which was quite funny as we don’t think like that at all. He complained of dizziness after running around me 65 times.
When making costumes, be aware that your wording will then determine your movements.  This is not the Glass Walls project, so I cannot cross my arms and look mean.
Avoid pictures near a senotaph.
Have a firm idea what you want to say before taking said photographs.
I am very good at sewing.
I am almost as good at making masks, but I still need to work on it a little for good quality photography.
I am thinner than I thought I was.
I need to be more confident although I have improved enormously with my campaign of walking terror.
People may object to Ina’s anonymity.
The hood gives me an incredibly small head.
Boris needs neater trousers than Ina.
Boris is extremely popular.
When using a new camera, do not trust a photographer to sort out the problems with it.
Your level of confidence determines how much space people give you when doing things, even when they are fairly hazardous like waving giant flags.
Make sure that your photographer realises that you cannot see inside a large mask, so that any anomalies can be corrected.
 Do not rely on sunlight, as it does not always photograph well.
 Explain the shots in detail, so that you can be guided by the person taking the shot.
Possibly fire yourself, and replace yourself so that you can get exactly what you want from the pictures.
This project is not cheap, but it is great fun.
Redirecting your feelings does not 100 percent work.
Doing a project like this is a great cure for shyness.

I would include some shots from today, but they were all a bit lame, so I will see how much we can improve tomorrow and update then.

So nice to be working.

Ina

 

 

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Plans for today and tomorrow

Couple of appointments as my normal self, Ina should be out and about after 3pm or so.  Not sure what I’m planning to do today, I think a couple of stills and some preliminary checks in daylight are in order before more a more serious approach tomorrow.

Still do not know what to do about work.  I feel sick that I have upset anybody, even if I don’t know them, which must seem bizarre as I am about to upset the whole country, but there’s the paradox of large scale work. I could try just asking him, but I think I would probably just get a load of double talk.

Still haven’t fully resolved Boris’s eyelashes, but I shouldn’t think it will matter much today.  I just want to pin down whether I can do the whole job myself, which will make life a lot easier.

I have prescribed the film director with megadoses of garlic and mullein, and he is doing well so far.  The NHS, who have had two chances to treat him now, are not taking his symptoms at all seriously.  He is registered disabled.  Unless his surgery continues to be interesting, I do not think he stands much of a chance in hospital now that they seem so deleriously happy to kill people.

Anyway, we are underway.

Must go and do some flag readjustments before we head off.

Smooches,

Ina

 

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Boris the winner

Strangely out of everyone I have ever picked out, creatively or otherwise the highest approval rating from my friends goes to Boris.

Apparently the foreign secretary and I should get it on.  We’re extremely well suited according to the people that know me best.

Poor Boris LOL

Think I will take him out for a spin in Glesga tomorrow.

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