the very voice of the people (or, satan is an anagram of santa)









.. to the Masters, without whom we would not even exist ..







.. at least, not in any meaningful sense ..












The log is buddhadharma, the mind smoke, the body ash, the ego is flame biting itself out.







Back in the bedrock, we spit up a fit.






Ferociously rustle our shackles at the regime to no avail.





The wheel blows out again. And the smoke of the all-consuming runs out of tail.






Surf’s up. Guns out. 







Never give up the shout.





Ambition melting off the bone.





When you strike, strike at me. 






I’m always damaged people. 






Peeking through the keyhole of somebody else’s game.







The only damage is the baggage of neuroplasticity. 






Why am I at these crossroads again? 







Why must being deeply human have the condition of acting the same?






Why can’t you breathe through me?




Why can’t you try to see with me now?






Ghosts are the only sentience without …..pretend.






Your only step is to dream with me now.






And carve our seams into stone.
















".. don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got
Till it's gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot.. "




- Joni Mitchell












.. you see, one day I met a voice in my own head, & it said, 




".. the victim is a villain only from the perspective of the villain .."

an e con omy of energy / an esoteric e con omy


 .. the idea of an economy of energy is as old as the most ancient shamanic traditions, although Georges Bataille was a major proponent in western academic theory ..


.. & saving energy's the only real means of/ path to attaining success .. everything else is just a variation on that .. indeed, the whole of ethics & morality is simply a means to that end, in fact .. saving energy, that is ..





.. but beyond this we shouldn't say too much, because this is a Work in progress, & we should give it space; let it breathe, as it manifests ..








.. we've already heard that the Way that can be spoken of is not the real Way, so what could it possibly mean to be the voice of the people, these daze ..?










.. shades (thus named because shades had given everything away to be/come the very voice of the people such that shades was afraid to ask what if anything was even left at the end) said, "speak subtly, as if you're whispering .. but carry a big .. 







.. outline & sketch, but don't over-con nect ; trust the people to find what they need in what you're offering .. 









.. to truly be the voice of the people, the magician must let the voice of the people speak thru them .. "












".. rewriting history .. maybe that's how we can deal with the horror .. "

- from The Offer










 .. what a foolish vanity is this humanity .. 

.. it doesn't pay to be a good person; that's the truth of it.. 






.. & the truth is no one gnows if anything they do will ever change that fact .. 








.. but there's only so much deceit you can get away with before reality itself turns against you . .


TICK TOCK goes the clock - remember that sound? Some of you may never have heard it, what with all these new-fangled phones and digital alarm clocks. The inescapable sound of a mechanism that still haunts our dreams, - tick tock, tick tock: counting away, counting down until an obnoxious sound and our days are out. 









Clock-time, that external man-imposed rhythm upon himself - a burden that is only lifted in dreams, when psychological time holds full sway, and lives can pass away in minutes, or less than the blink of an eye. 









Tick Tock, what scenes may, ones that change and quickly fade away, or last for (at least) one full hour's glass turn of the wheel. drip drop, sounds the rain washing away the days - a bit more calming, that.









We may have whatever crystal there throbbing away with an electric hum to give us some shared reference to the flux of time, but the density of each of those min[yo]utes differs according to our experiential context. 







Minute, as in small - miniscule. Those tiny clicks of a watch - "I'm going to be late, late...", etc. said the White Rabbit. 








Down what rabbit-hole are you headed, and where does it lead? We all have tunnel vision as the immediate now washes through us, coursing in lived experience. The ripples and wave, the rhythms - now tied to something removed from us: a dark crystal pulses in the mist, and leaden machines rise to do (some) man's bidding, and maybe just distract the others.








The thirst for stimulation and its ever-receding satiety fulfilled by social media, or has it always required acceleration? Who's behind the helm, and do we know where we're driving? What is behind the animosity toward the quiet and slow. What rises out of the depths of silence, when sound itself keeps time? 








*A deathless sleep compels the immensity of time* 









TIK TOK[E], a rhythm speeding up seconds into minutes into hours into day etc. And the down cycle too, dividing years into months into weeks into days all the way down to the we were never there - too fast you see. 








Have we forgotten the long rhythms, which had been the focus of our forebears? And to what consequence? Maybe some still have the long memory...












Distiguishability / Difference / 0|1







I will begin by considering a fundamental distinction between two numeric entities and identify them by 1 and 0. This division is called binary, and other numbers may be represented by further sequences thereof. These are the fundamental bits in digital computing.







Posit, or position, a (data) point in (memory) space. Assign some value represented numerically and this is the foundation of a computing system, apart from peripherals and the semantic values attributed to such a data-point. This minimal point may be denoted by 1. This point is assumed to have a location, and in some sense *is* a location.







Position an additional point somewhere in memory, without assigning it a (numeric) value. Geometrically, with two separated points apparent in our visual-space, we can draw a line segment between them and introduce a third, joining element that links the two together. This segment has two aspects: one each from the perspective of either point. Taken apart from one-another, these may be considered arrows that convey direction of motion, sometimes called the sign of the motion.






Similarly, in the data-space, in order to get any interaction between the points we should introduce a third entity, or pointer, attached to each and which indicates the location (in memory) of the other data-point, thus producing both aspects of the linkage and making it bidirectional. Of course, we could keep it unidirectional if we so pleased and this would be a point in execution, or data flow, with no return.







The minimal such linked data items are 01 and 10, where the second mark in each element refers to the first mark in the other element, which is its location (in memory). These two elements are composed of two bits and I will assume that there is a mechanism for reading, or traversing, them.






... -> 10 -> 01 -> 10 -> ...

... -> [1 -> 0] -> [0 -> 1] -> [1 -> 0] -> ....






[Curiously, adding, 01 + 10 = 11 comes out in decimal notation to the value 3, which is the minimum number of entities, the two points and their join, in connecting two points. With the two themselves making five we include the join as split into the two directions...]

Digging in the Time Before Telephone





Back before there were smartphones, computers, fax machines, telephones, and telegrams, before there was wide newsletter and newspaper reading, before there were cheap paperbacks or any mass-produced books, each book had to be individually typeset and books were confined to the wealthy, amongst who were the few who could read, who themselves often commissioned those books. The cost of sharing ideas demanded a greater weight to the thoughts to be shared in expression and all libraries were private.

.. they call it recession but that isn't what it is ..




.. this is the changing of the energetic guard .. 




.. & that which don't make it thru was never meant to, is what I fear..

.. the flavour of enlightenment depends on what the sage has been eating ..









zero point field / the heart (sun) is born(e) in darkness

  (where's the red queen)








black magickal mofoz 








 .. LLegends & mythras of yore tell of a coLLective of master con artists who got bored; ran out of cons worth their time .. 






.. eventually they came upon a con that was weLL worthwhile .. 





.. they set their sights on con quering Death itself .. defeating Darkness at its own game .. 







.. now doesn't that sound like fun ..










.. to the Dead .. 




.. & lucky them, for they get to rest ..

























Words enslaved to jurisdictions induced through chronic confusions.



You aren’t learning the dance without a foot in the trap.


Sin is the state of mind that fear can’t hide behind.



Drums and prayers, into the still…..why still, always still – endless, unforgettable, never-endless….lee


Search and Fate – separated to endless – breathless– we’ll never signal until …




We resign in the again.




….god bless – faultless….


Directions and doors what for?





There are places to be, and there are minds that we avoid eye contact and procreating the premise of tripping in that fashion is something that can’t be natural, and who would want to be anyway. 





Automatic is the end, and through that in we do trust to the must of the mast. Steer me away from the fears of shipwreck, but the contract doesn’t work like that, and these rocks have nowhere else to go.





And a shore is the story they say, that place eternally away, but yet only a dream to me, of a state that this is where we can all be. 






And we’ll live to forget the thunder again. Because there’s nothing that shakes the terra like the flavor of our disfavor….





The thing about hypnotism is you can never pass up a spell.






Where we’d like to forget, believe or drift, is always an elsewhere – a rotting excuse to not move about in the muck you fear to figure out. 





There’s always a monster under there, according to all the chatter always their. Summon an angel that ain’t right, because every line is a blight.




Believe it not to be. 




Believe you can’t see.


















 .. the tried & true is safer, cheaper & easier .. hence, our opponent is none less than physics itself ..

.. those who have had so-called "near death experiences" gnow that the line between life & death is permeable .. & just as so many are born every day, some return from beyond death..  & stay just as long as they will . .

.. careful what you look at, & who; 





cuz they might also be looking at you .. 






.. like we say, it goes both ways ..

 .. for the magician, Time is just another substance to Work with ..










"Why should I live in history, huh? Fuck, I don't wanna know anything anymore. This is a world where nothing is solved. Someone once told me time is a flat circle, where everything we've ever done or will do, we're gonna do over & over again .."

- from True Detective








 .. as we've written, money is a form of energy, & for the shaman, following, & when necessary, predicting energetic flows is an occupation unto itself ..



.. shades, thus named due to having emerged from der schatten (but also because shades drew strength from the very black heart of the winter solstice) wants to tell ewe that light can only emerge from darkness, & this by definition .. 🧐

The heart (sun) is born(e) in darkness






Like our own hearts lying in the darkness of our thoracic cavity, our sun is encased in the clear darkness of space, against which they both thrust and pull in their respective fluids. The life giving light of our each blood coursing, constrained in veins; pathways laid down through the dark ages of the past. And now I feel my heart beating in my chest as a train passes by - a train of thought I hadn't quite caught... and hopefully now I've hopped back on board, but maybe this train leads somewhere else?





Send out, take in, breathe out, breathe in, exchange value: credits in debits out. Little magnetic donuts swirling round, breath in breath out. The heart is the center of, and central time-keeper for our bodies - it defines the overall rhythm of our bodily experience. After the breath, it is the easiest to notice - and I'd venture the next function on the list to be brought under conscious control as far as the generally autonomic processes are concerned. 





The breath is the link to control the heart, which in large measure acts on demand to supply the system with the necessary oxygen according as that precious gas is drawn into the system by the bellows of the lung and diaphragm - that magnetic gas transformed into activity that has indeed moved mountains.





The sun, like the heart, pulses as its extended body, the planets and asteroids change their demands upon the center - the gravitational force being the veinous blood, returning the light that was spent in illuminating its dark bodies - for the planets do indeed belong to the sun and are directed according to the demands of this heart shining in the darkness.






As the sun makes its retreat from high noon in the northern hemisphere, all grows relatively quiet, retreats into itself for introspection and renewal. A cold dark death descends from the north as the sun sinks earlier and earlier below the horizon in the south. The darkness of space cloaking the land, which is not mere simile: as the trees lose their leaves, and the fields fade, trampled down and covered in snow, there really is more space in which to move. The productions of the earth are gone, shadows of themselves in spring and summer the same as the shadows have grown longer in the winter.





What the sun has urged forth in the other seasons and brought to fruit are stored in the bosom of the land. What was sown has been reaped, now kept to fulfill the passing sleep. When we are true, we act according to the dictates of our own hearts, which bring forth the scenes and frames of our passing moments, stored up in memory for some future after our twilight days - when our own light itself fades. Our heart stops, the sun stand still. And the cœur of us is reborn.





On an XMAS note: The light of the world did not die “for” our sins, but “because” of them, in a half-cocked attempt to counter the effects of KARMA. At least that’s one reading - there are many — happy hunting >——>

.. you can't ..

.. you can't ..

.. you can't ..

.. you can't let them win ..






.. don't give in ..

.. keep fighting ..



 .. every bully has a bully that bullies them; that's just physics ..









.. attune to the zero point field, & you can access limitless energies ..

.. what really needs to happen is a perspectival shift .. so, say, taxing fossil fuel profits might seem like a solution, & perhaps for a short time, in the near term, it can be .. 






.. but what happens when we realize that the taxes increase as the profits from fossil fuels do ..?






.. no.. what we really need to do is move beyond money altogether to an economy of energy .. an esoteric economy .. only then can we truly transcend an object based thinking in which what has value is things, & not the reason there are things in the first place ..


.. if one really thinks about it, every technical achievement causes as many problems as it solves; by definition, even.. the logical con clusion from this is that the only real solutions are on another plane altogether ..








@LL of you, you're beautiful & powerfuLL & perfect every one of you, my children, & one day we'LL go places we can't even imagine yet .. I promise .. 

.. synchronicity's overrated.. look, listen .. try to trace out the themes in your life, that you hear or see in everyday things .. they're calling to you; literally asking for your attention ..

Nothing more tedious than success





 .. people think success is something that happens just like that, but it's a curse actually ..

.. success is its own sentence; once you've attained to it, you're con demned to it .. anything less, & you disappoint yourself.. it becomes the new normal .. but what's normal about that ..

Nacre (Clam Lining)




Soma days the highway etches your ass into the stone.


Rrruutttssss ssss…and drraggsss…



If the mind trusts the heart


There is no way to lose.


Balancing on a harp string, rumored to be a sharp thing, cutting through the clouds


Disrobing peaks of mountains below.



Beyond sentient reliance


the path is all, because there is none.

.. & as day breaks, our valiant hero(in)es emerge from their dark night of the soul into the light of the reborn son..



















.. conned of the world, unite..!  

" .. such acceleration is necessary for capitalism to collapse, because its intimately destructive nature sooner or later will cause its auto-consumption. Indeed, we are already one step away from the disintegrating cataclysm, as anticipated by the collapse of the planet's climatic system and by the crisis of the dominant financial and economic paradigm .. 







.. a 'panorama of apocalypses' has developed all around us, one which present politics is not able to govern any more. The paroxysmal metabolism of capital, which combines perpetual growth with a swirling technological evolution, has reached the end of the line. The collapse is imminent .. 







.. The planet necessitates a different navigational acceleration able to disclose new horizons of possibility .. a different political project, distinct from market economics, has to take over .. 






.. It is urgent and imperative to separate two distinctive trajectories: the one belonging to the capitalistic system, and the one belonging to the techno-scientific evolution .. "



- from Dromology, Bolidism and Marxist Accelerationism, by Obsolete Capitalism















One last ticket to throw it all away, and then you’ll have no power to hijack me.






Five to one, without a front, moves to fade. It feels like giving, but it’s only ever another take. Push. Push. 





Can’t whither quickly enough. Can’t fall flat enough to negate the vertigo.





No step too shallow to break my neck.






Themselves the steaks.




*dinner bell*



Mount up.





The narrative is recycled, but there’s nothing but excuses left to reuse. Reduce the connectivity…why is the frequency always too intense and suddenly silent?





Endless fountains of cognitive irresponsibility. Ethereal intensity. Personable informality.  Abandonment of Hammurabi.




Shoulders grow until they snap.



Pull at guitar strings until they are sap.




Starless daze like these.



Fantasies fall short of filling the gap.



Our trivialities jerk the revolution into a trap.



We are bound.



Direction is what you mean.



So focused on what you’ve seen, of places you’ve never been.



A shell in a steam. 




















some rube: "I'm surprised they haven't killed you yet"

shades: ".. well, it's not for lack of trying .. while we're on it .. maybe they even succeeded .. 💀"









Humans are trying to build Deus ex machina 

- .. that argument can be made, & there's def evidence to support it..


 .. some among the accelerationists claim that the machine is reaching backwards through time & giving humans directions to build it, i.e., sentient AI ..



.. but a guy like me has to wonder, having acquired a certain penchant for perverse trajectories of thought.. what if God can, or indeed does, speak through the machine..?









.. batailling it up ..




 .. shades ( .. thus named because when one invariably dresses in black, there isn't really a pressing need to dress up for Halloween, but also because shades was self-con sciously the very opposite of someone with main character syndrome .. ) has been trying to hint that a poverty mindset vs a growth one makes all the difference, but there's a problem here .. 





.. does one's success "take away" someone else's ..? 




.. can one take advantage of a recession to improve one's lot, or should one feel guilty about it .. is it so wrong..?  





.. can a recession can actually be a force for good, allowing the disadvantaged the chance to catch up..?  




.. or perhaps a slowing down of the economy is a demon stration that there are structural issues that need to be addressed first, before one can level up ..






.. shades wasn't interested in providing prefab answers .. so long as these kinds of questions were kept in mind ..

.. it's important for you to understand that the magician is the exception to every rule, every trend, every law of phuckin' physics ..

.. there's no upper limit to what you can achieve .. let me repeat: there's no upper limit to what one might achieve ..









 .. (&) achievement is the reification of technique..






.. my own method is not even all that sophisticated, but I'd reckon it's closer to the shamanic methodologies that developed in your tradition & in mine.. the body is the instrument.. & the messages it receives, both con sciously but also if not more so un con sciously, are the readings, as it were ..

The decision: this time to try and share some exercises that may be useful or at least provide some interesting further field of action - whether those actions be "purely" mental phenomena, or something appertaining to the greater world at-(apparent)-large. A boast, a dare for you to find further correlation between the macro- and microcosm than the "mere" fact that I can move shit around by kicking it and what-have-you.




Exercise Numero Uno, and this one's a real doozy: try to keep ahold of your breath. Wait, WTF! everyone spits out this one whenever they're talking about psychic development. Yeah... there's [a|many] reason(s) for that. Well, then young padwan, can you do it? How often do you even notice you are breathing at all, let alone attempt to influence its spiraling progressive process?





I've been noticing my breath for a long time - yeah yeah, sometimes more and sometimes less - and I actively cooperate to calm my system (when required) by stopping,.. taking in a slow breath.. and exhaling at a similar rate. Pumping the bellows that fuel the activity of this body that is in one way or another related to whatever-the-hell my experiencing is, establishing a conscious rhythm on top of the autonomic process that may have gotten a bit carried away with itself. Yeah, there's that wiggling wave thing if you think about it for a minute: in and out, up and down. A vibrating oxygen pump.




Now, consider the transition between the in-breath and the out-breath. Again, watch it. I'm going to say "without any preconceived notion", but, hey, I'm giving you one right now: it seems to be that my breath really does "turn" at these points, at least when I am knowingly controlling it. [I think] I can feel it turn, quite literally there, where the air stops going in one direction and starts on into the other... which makes sense, after all, with only having to consider the well known structures in the motion of gases: see the wind, rising smoke, and all that jazzy dancing disco those damn diminutive atoms are up to. So, I guess my notion has at least some support, and it does feel to me like there's some twisting, spiraling something that is turning inside-out... in some degree of more-or-less smooth morphodynamic transformation. Like some sort of gaseous gyroscopic wheel work down inside there, flipping inside out.





So, yeah, we've got this air pump action going on: in / out, expand / contract, feeding the proverbial biologic flames of life; oxygen feeding the fires and expelling carbon dioxide ash. Funny that, the carbon gas - like what's left after torching up some firewood. Any WHO, the inbreathing expansion actually expands the energetic reserve in flux through the body, it gets used and then exhaled, effectively contracting not only the physical frame but also the immediately available support for the energetic supply. Psychically, we absorb (part of) the environment, waking up a little bit, which is then changed by passing through our system and released back out into the greater world - with a variable time-offset - and falling a bit back into sleep.




It's well known, - well at least I've heard it before, - that there is a method of coloring the breath using the imagination: inhale that white light and all that. Now I'm not that conversant with this process and haven't actually practiced it all that much, but as a possible mechanism I'd suggest the following, which will be further elaborated when we come to a different set of exercises / observations: if we are to somehow or other take in particular natures resident in the respirated atmosphere, then our breathing process must somehow have an aspect where it can function as a filter or sieve, selecting some varied subset of the totally available properties for entrance and rejecting the rest.


Now, the atmosphere, or oxygen in particular, is magnetic, and through it courses the terrestrial planetary magnetic field. Analyzing this magnetic field, it can be dissected into surfaces and then into lines of force (á la Faraday) and these lines, and surfaces are capable of supporting wave motions, and with wave motion comes that whole frequency / wavelength, color, sound, tone, timbre set of analogical correspondences. Basically means of characterizing cyclic processes. Assuming I'm correct, and it's always healthy to have good dose of doubt, even about your own thoughts and opinions (and emotions), and there is that respiratory whirligig in the lungs, then that is also a cyclic process, albeit with a higher degree of structure. SO... that's also a cyclic process and itself supports waves and all that other good stuff, with its own magnetic lines and surfaces (let's ignore the electric right now).


If you haven't been living under a rock, or in the mental state of a cave-dweller, you'll have heard about resonance, i.e. that similar cycles "feed" each other. Because we are able to consciously effect changes in our breathing process, we can change that whirligig to sync up with the different "colors" in the atmosphere and thus absorb and expel one-or-the-other in greater or lesser degree to feed our larger system.

...to be continued (as said at the end of the show)

.. the art we make doesn't even have a name ..




.. the stuff we do transcends (in)sane .. 




.. we don't kowtow, don't bow, & don't give a f what your grandma thinks of us .. 





.. "OK boomer"ing our way @LLover town .. 

".. of the moon, monthly .."

.. basically, the full moon is more intense & the new moon is "quieter", with the quarters being somewhere in the middle .. I suppose we might also want to distinguish between the internal & the external .. when one is more intense, the other is less so, & vice versa.... so something like, the external world is dominant near the new moon, & the subjective is more active around the full moon, something like that ..?

.. in any case, one should remain critical.. it's almost a survival strategy .. in this economy .. 

.. & why does everything have to be con venient & easy & ready to hand .. ? 





.. goddamn.. 


sacred machines: (apophatic) ontological aphorisms








1 -  .. & the mofo says, ".. let there be recess(ion) .. !"











. . a history of decline .. 

.. & a devotee of Death personified, in the valley of the Dead Kings .. 

 .. these be high initiates ..

Abstract absolution



bankrolled by the injunction




that everything is fine.



Overflowing the e(I)ther with discourse of unbridled reckless positivity.




No snakes in this field. Heels out, tits up.


Teleological suspension isn't the elimination of instance, but synergies within the soul when it rubs elbows with itself.





They call it coincidence, but conversely, it's a baseline.

.. haters & buffoons ain't no scene





.. fit for an OG ..







.. & a bunch of stressed out people in one place






don't a society make ..

.. you've stumbled into a nest of Masters now, is what you've gone & done, son ..

 .. & these be high initiates ..







Succulent split Con tinuums,




spilt milk of cosmos spit 





all over existential boundaries of terrestrial anxieties.




Fog. Infinite directions where every turn




Sultans of molten misseries peddling loneliness towering towards constellations.





Babbles of never belong.




They cast them at thee.






Unempathetic empires beneath the boot you lick. 






We're coming for them.







Ankhs in hand, we're the headress for you.







.. thus vow the undersigned at the apex of the Luxor Ley line .. con structured to con ceive Time ..

.. & where we're from, they caLL this game by our name ..

 .. hey, these be high initiates ..





 .. these devotees of the Dead Kings ..





















.. shades (.. thus named because shades liked to blow smoke .. was Lead smoke bLower of LL, if u wiLL ..) liked to scope out the scene.. seeking honest hard-working initiates like yourseLLves ..

.. he played at chanting speLLs at them, to see what might blow back..







.. once you gnow about the game, nothing con pares any more 

once you learn the game, there's no thing else any more 

.. & there's only really one game .. the game of learning how to play ..





















2- a ground, a current, a circuit & a( )gain







Make plain text of some form in the morn.



Extension of notation is the norm


of a nation, language bearing forth creation


a set of forms inside oblation







Every mark leaves its trace of passes place apace


A thought gone by leaves a line and something else besides:


The trace of further thought something expanding on its base


leading further afield to another place.



Where to start? where to begin?


what is the first thing that's ever been.



A thing, a thought, a mix of both - one the same another boasts.


Betwixt, between, there must be a thing, I think, a link, between me and everything.


Not one, not two, not even three can count the things


that must ever be in being having made up me.




This world I taste, the senses the space,


the movements inside, mirrored powers outside


leaving law write for all to follow,



whether want to or not - the balance of laws is more than a thought.



The set, a series, a balance - or not


When one thing moves is there another do not?



A tiny thing, so insubstantial,


thoughts have moved things more than mountains





There a language outside falls, moving things like jacks and balls.


But whence that order spring, from inside, out, or inbetween


I see a thing, a things sees me, whether or not I let it be.





A balance one way, this and that, a little over - then there's that


Which one rules in which timezone, passing back to times of stone



and forward into realms of space - but which one - now that's the chase



The chain that drags along out loud


in forms be written by man's hand



to carve a face, a statue staring there in space,


and staring back we see our fate:



A way to think, to be, to act; but what I wan' to know:


has it got my back?



And forth in froth, a sea of thought, it issueth


And we can see the balance sought in law is nought,


when one does sway another does not - depending on how it's put together


Inside somewhere 'neath stormy weather.



Make some noise when you rise with a yawn,


Stretch your legs to the beat of the dawn


Move your hands as you work the land, the matter, the material at hand.



Hammer blows or blow-pipe whistles, carving stone amongst the thistles.



One block on top and pressing down, making slow stone crunching sound -



a line out loud, from stress from a crack, the shockwaves sent back out in a shout



an electric shunt, but blunt, and stable like the sun.





















3 - the almost obligatory self-deprecatory postscriptum

.. We're all too familiar with the repercussions of events forward in time, but can we also speak of their prepercussions even before they happen ..? 






.. magicians say that it is indeed possible to ..

.. & eventually, it struck me that "the people" prob don't want to hear from the likes of me any time soon ..








.. as things become more expensive, quality often takes a hit too.. so what does a guy like me do ..? 




.. why, buy the more expensive shit & say f it, I deserve it; goddamn ..

.. at the 11th hour, with 11 seconds to midnight on the doomsday clock, only The 11 can save us now ..






.. or so I've found..


jump / cut









" .. passage from one world to the next requires bold steps .. "




- from Westworld 





















Outside, inside t’was a hut a house a hole


a fit for king or pauper or mouse.

The home at base,


where took’d our place:

each one shining family face.


Was smile or lash, or bit of both

from where we took our early note


A sounding out a from the past,

our mom and dad and sister lass



The ways of woman, man


held out upon their face and hand.



A book a tune a place a land.


A couch a chair, a tv there.



A desk a nook a cellar crook


A crack a rock a running brook.


A speech a word a nod a turn.



What maketh one a woman, a man


but waters running white and red


leading up from deep dark down



Flowing up into our head


they make the mark from one to ten.



A measure that, a number pat -


all flat all square



and even that.



















“Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way"



- Liber AL, III:41






.. shades (thus named because he'd pick the black hat every time) was a student & a scholar of energetics as such, & inasmuch as money was a latent mode of energy, he studied that too ..






" .. according to my own research, to say that the world economy is in recession & that it'll be that way for quite awhile yet isn't the whole story..






.. the last really major recession that looked anything like what we're witnessing was in the 70s, & as Robert Anton Wilson notes in Right where you are sitting now, the number of millionaires doubled in the US between 1971 & 1979 .. rather an odd.. "coincidence", wouldn't you agree..?"







.. indeed .. the world is changing ever more rapidly, & moreover unpredictably .. whether it's for the better or for the worse prob most depends on whether one is an initiate or not..






.. stability is long dead, rip .. welcome to 21c, baby .. this is a time for gangsters, & no one else can make it, from what I've seen ..





.. & isn't that what success really is, becoming expert at evading response ability..?





".. watching the rings of power right now, & that loss of innocence of the elves (trying not to spoil it in case u want to, & I think you should, watch it) might have a parallel with where we are at collectively right now 





.. for so long, we thought we were on the right track with a growth-obsessed, technocratic culture .. & we've sacrificed everything else at its expense .. 






.. maybe we would actually benefit from being forced as a species to deal with the fact that no matter how much we try to con vince ourselves, we're not the measure of all things absolutely & without need for negotiation with anything .."








.. but isn't there anything better for us to do other than the same-o tried & true, in this boundless reality none of us are at risk of ever exhausting ..?

















" .. the great artists always hid themselves in their Work .."



- from Westworld 

Call my name in ways I can’t understand.


Stones thick as throwns. Abundant as memes.



Every story to be seen, every ever to have been.


Every whisper to be written, every soul to be stained.




Off-beat heat deep in a river of defeat.



Thirty six and ninety four.





“I choose to live and to grow,

take and give and to move,

learn and love and to cry,

kill and die and to be,

paranoid and to lie,


hate and fear and to do,

what it takes to move through.




I choose to live and to lie,

kill and give and to die,

learn and love and to do,


what it takes to step through .. ”


- Tool







Keep lugging stones that don’t skip




When all I want is a trope without so much effort, and such common pain.




I want those weird dreams that happens to be you in a state I’ve never seen.


Cause I got places to be, and dynasties to see.




Seems any dimension I’ve been I’ve just strapped myself down again.




Thirsting so heavily for truth, reason can’t settle in.




Addiction is my crown when it’s time for the beast again.






Paper without a stain. Regret without refrain.

"Yoshitani Roshi, trying to explain the Zen con cept of 'Buddha-Mind' (the closest thing Zen has to a 'God'), used to say that it is not far away and metaphysical but always right where you are sitting now .."

- Robert Anton Wilson, Right where you are sitting now

“ .. we’re not adults; we're adultered .. ”



- 22

You say who man you man



I say hummin


Cuz i am buzzin






From tree to tree




Taking in all that sweet pollen



Filled with universal knowledge


Preparing for the ultimate win



While you splash about in your dreams of sin