.. wake up ..
".. in order to instigate revolutionary change, we must transform human consciousness .."
-from Jurassic World 3: Dominion
.. do you feel the lull, do you hear it..?
.. like the silence before a storm ..
.. whey cup ..
We are presented with a puzzle box - a structural body, whose solution is most perplexing. We twist and turn in it, finding a pattern here or there that might get us closer to the goal of escape... to what, where, with who? A tumbling kaleidoscope of varied pleasures and pains, dreams and nightmares: both are real here.
Borne in the midst of colossal movements of people and thought forms. Our very beings knots in such and such a fabric. The movements of our own families tossed about in the fluxing of the greater human organism, moved by their ideas. Some stand tall: our country, our religion - ideas that, with a notion of past, were given to life by our forebears; or at least their contemporaries, our own having played various roles by degree.
For us though, at first, they just are; the holidays and festivals, the shops and stores, the food, the language - the sounds and music. When we are young, we are at the mercy of all the sides of the spirit-of-the-times.
We are plastic because we have to be: we cannot yet care for ourselves and remove ourselves from the presence of any materialized offending notions - the bad music, the hairdos. In our earliest years we are rocked (to the core) by our parents and the environment they've (collectively) created.
Taken as a set of surrounding circumstances, these lights in the dawning sky of a young mind, these constellations are our "given" [lot]. As much as we are a product of these shining guiding stars in thought, we can, united, rearrange the heavens, just as the past leading lights of our shared movi[e|ing] world did in their day. And, we can all rest assured that as the earth moves, so do the heavens.
As humans, we are the products of ideas, semi-symbiotic, sometimes parasitic, and as our ideas, so our world. Either closer to a dream of plenty or a nightmare of famine, the comfort of peace, or the horror of war. We'll all have as much choice as we can stand, but sometimes find some[thing|one] in the way: do we dance, or draw knives.
.. a void tangents ..
.. if u still don't see how we're in a war for our own souls & indeed the very viability of the future as such, then I don't gnow what to tell you, honestly ..
..
shades ( .. thus named because shades was the virulent virus destined to
turn this whole world upside down & every virus needs a name ..
but, when the time comes.. I'm in no rush; I've already won .. ) thought in aphorisms, so it was only natural to use this mode for the purposes of communication & self-expression ..
.. it's best not to take it too seriously .. obviously on some level this is all a joke or a baroque farce of some sort ..
.. everywhere & in every direction today we're surrounded, inundated, flooded by distractions, tangents going now here .. side issues of side issues that have no pertinence to the most pressing matters at hand .. those which by far are the most urgent ..
.. but we've come a long way since the notorious Nero in at least 2 dubious senses - today, it's far more than merely Rome that burns; & there's several, nay seemingly endless, diversions aside violins ..
.. you're either on the bus .. or off the bus
.. in this economy ..
.. just cuz you're cheating don't mean you'll win ..
.. no we're not dregs or dogs or cogs; we're gods ..
..
there are those who walk around as if aimless, & those who have a
plan & are systematically executing it.. now which of those do you
think are the more effective at life ..? .. & what can be learned from them..? that focus, at tention is an energy in itself; a power that somehow brings its object closer ..
.. live minimalist, live simply; live "closer to the earth".. but what does that really mean…?
.. we can't afford not to fine doubt ..
.. focus ..
Blisters on my feet, with nothing but circles behind me. How much longer should I hold my head under water? There is no baptism here.
I’m not giving in to this. And I’m not losing to this. You know me. I’m the stooge who will drink his own piss……but…shit…what was it we were fighting against?
Let me bring your attention to intention. Bullhorns ablaze!!! Woot wooot, who needs a hoot? Are we all finally present in this state here today???
Oh sure, we have words. And fuck are they fun. They are final. Say anything now. No, fucking say it. Now. Out loud. Well, it just became is then wAS. Just like thAT.
Worms. We call them words though. We bathe in them, we fuck ourselves with them (take that as you’d like it).
We fling these existential knives as sleeper agents into the mind of another. Ego viruses. It’s a cute game.
We gnow we play it….but why are we still? WHY ARE WE STILL??? Always still…
Ever see a child build the same sandcastle twice?
To invoke requires a piece of you. We know this, we are here. We are participating. We are the lodge. So why are we chipping away for blisters?
I’m still here just jizzing on myself. Writing about doing.
I’m the worst of all poets. Thrown into a world that tumbles, and all I create are giant pity shits about me.
Playing my tricks. Tweaking the nipple of the universe. How quaint of a fuck I am?
Shunning the responsibility of voice.
Didn’t we fuck up clichés? Dial it back Lodgemates….we crashed in as psychonautic pirates, determined to rip your mind into a state that can’t be fixed. Because we are broken, we are aware.
You like the light? You lurk in dark? I don’t fucking care. Your home is your business, but right now. RIGHT NOW. You are here. And that Is my responsibility, and one I’ll never shun again.
All practitioners are agents, and I’ll say it again. ALL PRACTIONERS ARE AGENTS. Chaos? Sigils? Prayer? Invocation? Art? Pain? Blood? We’re all the same.
Some methods inhale sacrifice, some exhume, but everything with meaning pays that same toll.
No time for the tourists. Only full contact here.
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