Lezlie knows that she can be pretty terrible. With her dad being a cop and her mom a busy lawyer, she picked up a habit of telling stories and lies to test the waters of others and to get herself out of trouble. After a series of high-school drama that exposed her lies, Lezlie writes regularlly to contain her stories so they wont fly in the wild. In solitude Lezlie finds herself drawn to binge-watching TV dramas studying people like case files. Lezlie is still trying to figure out who she really is without hiding behind a persona. While it feels safe and simple, she feels being basic is lame. Aside from writing, she enjoys hunting with her dad, finding peace in nature, observing and waiting for the right moment to take her shot. Dont worry, she would never hurt a bunny.
Lezlies a tricky Oracle but a mindful one. Lies arent always about harm. Sometimes theyre armor. The powerful mind can twist stories, form judgments, even rewrite memories based on past experiences and the people in our orbit. Leslie reminds us to observe before reacting. Sit back like a crow on a branch, and watch. Listen. Take notes. Drama can be entertainment, but it gets messy fast when youre sucked into it. Ask yourself: are you caught in the chaos, or are you ready to be real, lay out the cards at play, and see whats really going on?
Click the arrows to peek through her journals.
Read at your own risk.
All I have is music, this document, and my gothic-ass feather pen.
At least they gave me vinyls.
Its so fuggin satisfying to browse through them
An equivalent to doomscrolling except more intentional
More . . . stimming
Especially with all of my colorful notes
Categorizing every genre and vibe
And it's nice that I have this only this much in my possession
As a lot of SM sites had an endless plethora of nonsense, AI slop, and drama
All that shit for free. We didnt even ask for but we did - technically
When we download social media
We agreed to endless supply of caca
I wonder if its still around
I wonder if the world became a wasteland of shit
And everyone is in space
On their way to Mars
Sipping on 7-11 slurpees in their floating chairs
Replaying my demise on Youtube
and probably Vimeo
Vinyls freed me from making painful careful choices
And thanks to the Wakes print catalogue I can browse
In my little goblin prison
Until they deem me safe for release
No rush guys I’m comfortable here.
After I pointed a gun to my head in high-school
My parents agreed to cut me off from the world.
No social media. No one had a way to reach me but through my parents.
It fucking sucked.
No one would call. No one would visit.
But their fingers are moving and moving as they text
But never to my direction
Homies traumatized
The whole act was caught on some bitch ass iPhone
The memory abducted by a cloud
rained all over the world
Hence, I have created a character of myself
My own show that I am prevented to watch
Instead I silently reflect inside this comfy lil cloud box
Ive been in here for some time that I start to think
Do people really even care about me?
I clearly didnt think about them. . .
So here I am,
Bopping and chanting to the almighty
Kid Rock hit All Summer Long.
Hmm life must have been very nice.
Before the internet and all.
Pretty girls and perfect weather.
Getting high and drunk all night long.
But I sing it like I have already lived that time.
That it was indeed the fucking greatest time evaaaa dudes...
So yeah, I can understand why my folks support Trump.
Now theres cameras fucking everywhere. Bruh even the birds!
They follow us so they can track our secret lairs
To where we are hiding the children
To how many donuts are we eating in one night
To how many episodes weve watched in Tyler Perrys Sistas
To how much money we are embezzling from our business partners
Data data data. Our data everywhere.
Theres no mystery anymore.
Not fun.
Bleh.
Thats the Wakes realization.
