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

 

 

And

 

 

 

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

 

 

And,
 

 

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.

 

 

For,
 

 

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
 

 

 

Around
 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

emergent sea / stay a wake

 

".. you are the medicine .."

- Maria Sabina

".. we haven't seen anything yet .."

 

 

- Deleuze & Guattari, Anti-Oedipus

Nestle up with that voice you box.  
 

 

 

Misdirection of endless passion.
 

 

 

 

Keep the streets away from me.
 

 

 

People are cliffs.
 

 

 

 

Estranged to me.
 

 

 

Hope is askew.
 

 

 

 

Confusion obsessed with me.

 

I’d just as soon,
 

 

 

Be out of tune.
 

 

 

Because there ain’t no key, for me.

 

 

No spirit to stain, no reason to try.
 

 

 

No direction to steer, no way to die.    

 

 

 

 

Fractures of mind.
 

 

 

Concrete conclusion. 

 

 

 

 

Sins of absolution.

 

stay awake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey grande mnemonic, what did you say to me today? What are you trying to get me to remember as these hours sieve away? 

 

 

 

 

Walking through hallways, in rooms - gazing upon statues, heirlooms, photographs and tools. 

 

 

 

 

 

A method: trying to recall a speech, a play, an act on each and every stage, met with characters who may also not remember their lines, the steps in the daily dance. 

 

 

 

 

One vision of the present is the concreted past, all memory frozen up in form - still written right there in everything, waiting to be read. The mind runs off through the constructive tangential paths that led to some being here, back, branching back. 

 

 

 

 

 

Trying to remember what I am by piecing together what surrounds me - that in a physical sense, will never work; but the story. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still the implements, machines and tools find their roots in some philosophical yarn spun out of people living and talking together, acting and reacting, as tales. 

 

 

 

What am I reminded of when I see a face, what is the story of my space? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Great mnemonic, what it is it you want me to remember?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The core of synchronicity is nostalgia. No future without dream. Delusion.
 

 

 

Dilution of the absolute light of nothingness, rainbow paths of discontent and self-obsession. 

 

 

 

 

A blissful oblivion of anything you may have been tethered to….we’re here floating again.
 

 

 

And when we can’t feel this shame again, the runway is green.
 

 

 

 

No shapes without.

 

 

 

Indicate the agenda witch breathes out (of).
 
 

 

Heavy handed, and never near.
 

 

 

Abandoning others to damage the self.  
 

 

 

 

Stones galore in this lore.
 

 

 

 

The headlights flicker again   ///////   But that was the angle, no (?) signal.
 

 

 

Signal, right? It’s the signal that keeps me inside.
 

 

 

Whips me alive.  
 

 

 

    
Hopeium used to cost peasants a penance. A few meals at best.  Then be on your way.
 

 

 

Now? It takes everything…in varying degrees of inequality.
 
 

 

I have rhymes for the vacancies invoked through your acceptance.
 

 

 

 

No tasted but whiskey and sin. For the start of this fucking wheel again.

 

 

Strap your ear to the floor. The fear within is a frequency.
 

 

 

 

Into your head for once and cliché, because that’s what this piss poor poetry is anyway.
 

 

 

Stepping into snares.
 

 

 

Always trembling for word of shore.
 

 

 

 

My wrists are always weak……there is no universe for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 we're not one, but many .. nay every & any .. an emergent sea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. anyone who either admits they're a con artist or flat out denies they're a con artist, is a con artist..

 

 

 

 

.. It’s just a bunch of interacting trajectories in tensorial garb ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. I think we're @LL in need of some inflammation reduction, don't you..?

 

 

 

 .. I don't say someone else's lines; I ad-lib..

 

 

 

 

 

".. it is only through the imagination that human beings can become godlike and actually participate in the mind of God, thereby achieving divine gnosis in the most literal and radical sense. 

 

 

Accordingly, it is not the world that must be rejected or from which human beings need to escape .. it is about staying awake to the true nature of our own selves as omnipotent divine creators who have the power to create our own world as beautifully as we wish.. "

 

 

 

- Wouter J Hanegraaff, Alan Moore's Promethea: Countercultural Gnosis and the End of the World

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. they say insanity's doing the same thing & expecting a different result, but I wonder if it isn't doing nothing & expecting something to change ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

-  .. what if, as a result of the world being more con nected & the acceleration in novelty associated with increased heat, karma somehow now takes less time to .. process, I guess, than in previous eras .. incidentally, & while on the surface communications tech & heat/novelty/entropy may not seem to be related, both pertain directly to the movement of a message through a medium & to its intended recipient.. .. & in any case, is it really supposed to be a coincidence that both happen to be increasing..?

 

 

 

- Heat, according as entropy, being an increase in disorder, and CO2 being an acidifying agent, with acidic environments being malignant for higher life forms generally in biological terms, if karmic repercussions are being sped up, I’d say it’s all mass humanity's incongruous deeds throughout history coming to slam us all in the face ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. the Master's Work is never done; so if u want your work to be done, don't become one ..

 

 

 

 

(furthur) tangents to a void

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. 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 ..

 .. you like to play ..? .. you've come to the right place .. we'll play you for all you have; your last cent .. we'll play you for your soul .. till there's absolutely nothing left ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

whey cup / hidden in plane zeit

 

 

 

 

.. if you're not improving, you're losing ..

 

 

.. in this economy ..

 

 

 

 

 

".. when alleged 'objectivity' becomes a cult, parody becomes an irresistible urge .. when inflexible Authority exists, the satirist and counterfeiter express two variations on, fundamentally, the same strategy for coping in such a world"

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger III: My Life after Death

 

 

 

 

 

".. the false world has become the world of mediation; its rulers or archons are not carnal demons but captains of propaganda and brainwashing. In this new vision, spiritual awakening does not catapult you into an incorporeal heaven but plugs you back into the actual, physical world - a place that follows deeper rhythms than CPU cycles and the hum of global networks. The core of our new gnosis, I believe, is the earth, in all its limitations and extraordinary fecund power.. "

 

- Erik Davis, Techgnosis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Barrels of still waters.
 

 

Barrelling through still.
 

 

 

Full dream ahead.

 

 

Lily-topped cries soaked in sweat and sand.  
 

 

{content hijacked again}
 

 

 

I’ll never stave an undue grave.
 

 

 

I once thought myself a purity, but I saw the poison in my eyes when I offered you a tincture of what I thought was a gem.

 

And every failure is a plan.
 

And every failure is a plan.

 

 

Forgotten is the most soothing surface of state.
 

 

Unable to turn the tides from always tracking. Enticing. Slice and dice that it. It can. Can come to be. Slice through me. All around again.  
 

 

I’ll split my head, as long as I don’t have to sit with it again.

 

All I don’t want is time.

 

Every alley is a coroner in a lake. I can’t wade in my words any longer. I can’t be stronger.
 
 

 

Uncertainty.
 

Drifting Hyperbole.

 

 

That peace I shook within. Now I’m begging for again.

I only dance to scrub away the forms of myself I can’t have stick.
 

 

Keep tripping on the line ‘tween the want & the truth. 

Spit upon the surfs, I’ll impose, as far as a reckoning can swing.  

 

 

A moon without tone. A prayer that requires a rezone.
 

 

Only.
 

 

Refractions of interactions – I’m sure I’ve said it all before.
 

 

Pushed through gates, when I just need to stay. Nothing left in my eyes. Memorial. Rooted in damage. An underlying something savage brought me to this.
 

 

And my soul can’t shake that stench.
 

 

Turn my sick into stone.  Ever atone.

 

Shred my bones to rags, because I’m just gasoline, and I’ll fail you to degrees unseen.

 

 

There’s a valley with 900 lanterns, but I’m so shady you’ll never see me creep on by. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Postmodernism does not result from whim, but from growing evidence that we simply do not live in an Aristotelian true/false universe .. we live in a middle (or muddle) excluded by Aristotle"

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger III: My Life after Death

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Faced with today's honeycomb of reality tunnels, Wilson advocates a kind of wry schizophrenia, a yin/yang of skepticism and imagination that maintains the mind always at a crossroads, poised between yes and no. This excluded middle is where the postmodern Hermes is born: a sacred ironist or a visionary skeptic, dancing between logic and archaic perception, myth and modernity, reason and its own hallucinatory excess"

 

 

- Erik Davis, Techgnosis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 aphoristic approaches to being more a woke

 

 

 

 

 

 .. for the magician, it's better to keep an open mind about what is "real"  .. in a way, that makes making "editing" changes to reality easier ..

.. enculturation is a bitch .. but nonetheless, or perhaps precisely because of this, well worth overcoming ..

 

 

 

 

 

.. there's always 2 sides to any con frontation, & the spirits speak more often in the spaces between their (usually black or white) positions than in their generally subjective perspectives ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. magicians pride themselves on getting whatever they want, or perhaps on gracefully adapting to whatever circumstances they happen to find themselves in .. the ultimate cha11enge, however, has aLways been to change the worLd ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. you can resist the future; even fight it .. but you can't prevent it from happening ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The instrument that measures all other instruments - the human nervous system - has its own laws, and one of them involves always seeing the results one wants to see until and unless something really startles the brain enough to reframe its experiences"

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger III: My Life after Death

 

 

 

 

 

".. even the nuttiest notions about material reality emerge from our need to stitch together, however provisionally, the world we feel with the world we know. Moreover, we make the historical determination between 'real' science and wild-eyed speculations in the rearview mirror, and even then, only selectively. For all its skeptical rigor, science and its truth-claims can never be completely distilled from the cultural and mythic murk that characterizes all human societies"

- Erik Davis, Techgnosis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think sometimes I've found a truth or two all hidden amongst a mass of lies,
 

 

One by one the thoughts fly by but leaving marks behind the
 

 

 

Memory fades of different planes in rhymes returning once again,
 

 

To sink below the water frozen in the depths.

 

 

To call them up, to boil the mass, to spin and turn tongue's twisted lash
 

 

Of whirling words, concepts, usually piled in a crash.
 

 

 

A property or two or three, a thing that links between - appearing once before
 

 

 

 

The screen, the eye of mind, in experience: pleasure, pain.

 

 

One approach, the other recede, not just in joy but everything.
 

 

A water cold, a burning hot, as dry as sand, as quick as air - each
 

 

 

Opposite calls forth its other, turning into one-another.

 

But knots are tied,
 

 

each spirit lashed, into the turning whirling mass, of things we see and smell and taste
 

 

we touch a part ourselves do make, from somewhere deep inside the depths where
 

 

 

the magic mirror rests.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

de Mundus Imaginalis: parall(h)el(l) devilopments

 

 

 

 

 .. everything matters more or less, and to an unknown degree ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. astral pirate radio beaming blasting broadcasting right straight direct the fuck into your third eye ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hypnosis exists on all levels of human society, and very few scientists can remember that their favorite models started out as metaphors"

 

 

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger II: Down to Earth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll sift more than be.

 

I’ll wail more than sail.
 

 

 

You won’t need to step around me,
as you pass on through the gates of undo.
 

 

 

I’ve already failed the scales.

 

The only hand I forced was the wrong one.
 

 

 

Across a heart.  
 

 

 

 

Put a stop to where I stamp it from.
 

 

Words through straws.
 

 

 

Fetishize the fringe I can’t choke.

 

 

 

 

I sit more than stand.
 

 

I’ll take more than give.

 

 

 

And baby you don’t want to know, how short I am in love lately too.

 

 

Liquid to dust.
 

 

 

It won’t stay light long enough to tame that fright.
 

 

The fever only breaks when the mind is inaudible.   
 

 

 

 

Till then I will weave like a firefly into the jaws of the night..
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I don't mind being accused of  being an 'escapist'. On a planet that increasingly resembles one huge Maximum Security prison, the only intelligent choice is to plan a jail break"

 

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger II: Down to Earth 

 

 

 

 

.. but we were never really aiming at being comprehensive or systemic in the first place .. not even seeking hard & fast rules, at that; we have @ll ways insisted that the most one can do when dealing with the imaginal realm is to outline trajectories .. 

 

 

 

.. on the con trary, rules are the death of the occult, which isn't a Euclidean fantasy world of perfect circles & straight lines, but a very tangible &, therefore, a messy one of tangential tantrums & a chaos that is as potent(ial)ly destructive as it is creative..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. shades (.. thus named .. no, that's it this time .. ha, just kidding .. got you tho .. 😏.. thus named because it was a code name, shades being a secret agent of that shadowy esoteric co11ective, the we were never (w) here order, battling archontic forces hellbent on enslaving humanity .. ) came to awareness following an esoteric phase shift; drift (alstublieft) to a voice whispering on the wind ..

 

 

 

 

.. it's your un con scious that destroys you in the end ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. here's another high- level secret that is only approved for those of the who gives a f degree (& higher 🤨) of the we were never (w)here order: it has never been, nor will ever be, any outside force that destroys the magician; only their own weakness(es) can do that..

 

 

 

 

.. thus is that great, perpetually reverberating initiation: the con frontation with the shadow, facing all those terrible ones .. but I'm here to tell you, fear not.. for there is a way to overcome them .. yea, even the most terrifying of them.. 

 

 

 

 

 

.. but it's not easy, & it's not straightforward .. it takes courage, dedication, discipline, to win .. must one therefore become 'boring', to succeed in the long term..? .. certainly not, but it's not easy to balance creativity & con sistency .. on the con trary, it's an endless chaLLenge ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. & if any of this sounds familiar, it should ..

 

 

 

 .. after all, you (un con sciously?) do it every day .. 

 

 

 

 

 

.. the ch@11enge, however, is to do it intentionally, willfully, con sciously ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, by now, we realize that in some sense it is all One. The facts of our experience are such that there is some unition amongst all the things that pass on inside us and those that pass by us in the exterior world. We've already spoken about this liminal interface that exists between the inner and outer worlds, and that this mirror works both ways, both in influx and efflux actions and reactions. 

 

 

 

 

Let us now turn, for the time being, to what is generally considered to be the external world and what we find represented in it.

 

 

 

Looking at a small segment of the data that we receive through our senses, in this case a limited subset of what is forthcoming by sight, a number of simple notions appear to our vision:

 

 

 

 

Things move, and even things that are usually considered motionless, given the proper circumstances, do move - or at least are in such a condition that they can be moved by us. This fact that everything in our local environment has the possibility for motion indicates in some sense that we, along with everything else, are enmeshed in a network of various trajectories, if only in potential.

 

 

 

These traces in space through time appear sequential in that one spacetime event precedes another at all scales. These various orders, self-evident in normal human experience, are to that degree a great fact of existence, and that it would be foolish to consider objects as somehow isolated from their trajectories. As they cannot be separated therefrom, and are somehow tied up in all manifestation, it makes sense to posit them as first-class entities.

 

 

 

 

Our relatively static environment may then be understood to be only a relativity of trajectories, in that the great mass with which we deal is carrying us along, along with everything else. Taking the observation that everything is moving a bit further, we can ask whether or not all these things about us are in fact "only" trajectories and that they have no existence apart from the grosser movements of which they are a part - The Greater Rule the Lesser - That the paths through space are the objects themselves, especially more strikingly when considered mesoscopically.

 

 

 

 

We know that the greater world is composed of cycles of various durations, and are intimately acquainted with the simple cycles of activity and repose, day and night - sometimes aware of our breath, etc.. Each of the cycles has a base, or key-note, around which the song progresses eventually returning to the tonic. Thus, like in music, the path around the sun in its forward movement traces out a helix in the less active sparse space that surrounds us and which finds a living echo in the double helix recording of the course of life. Indeed the most general form of motion as well as force, is indicated in this screwing looping path - not to mention that a sphere dropped in a liquid is forced to take a helical path as the one of least resistance.

 

 

As the earth spins, rotates, and revolves, we pass through prodigious distances of space at very high velocities. These whirls within whirls are not generally apparent and the experience of them in altered states is much limited in the mass of humanity. 

 

 

 

 

Instead we predominantly live in a "block world" where visual boundaries or limits and corresponding tactile surfaces circumscribe what is considered to be reality. This is partly because, in our "static" space and being immersed in the ocean of motion, these forms which the compositional motions take are consequently different. 

 

 

 

 

However, we can calculate their structural form from the greater mass movements by a mathematical change of frame - the trick is to perform this calculation mentally..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" .. humans somehow invented math, just as mysteriously as they somehow invented language. We don't understand how we did it, but it allows us to understand our hallucinations better. In short - as Einstein once said - the most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible.. "

 

 

 

 

 

- Robert Anton Wilson, Cosmic Trigger II: Down to Earth 

 

 

 

 

.. sometimes, when I'm in certain altered states, I experience physically moving my body, like even basic movements, as spiral..🤔.. I would've written about it by now but it's more an experience than an idea, & if one hasn't had it, it's hard to empathize with 😅, but on a certain level, it makes sense.. we ourselves are energetic vortices or complexes of spirals as per the teachings of several esoteric schools .. 🧐

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  .. a gnostic with a little g and big b's ..

 

 

 

 

sin: thesis - (esoteric) phase // shift .. drift; alstublieft

 

 

 

 

  .. heard someone say 'new levels, new devils' & I LOLed cuz that's like, my life, dude ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A jester, a joker - a king, a knight, a knave. 

 

 

 

A knife that’s bright along its blade. 

 

 

 

 

A night - that’s right: we lie down just the same. 

 

 

Alone in bed, or with someone else’s name. 

 

 

 

 

A pity, a party, a shame. 

 

A blunder that shall remain the same. 

 

 

 

 

One life lost, another gained.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. justice is balance; symmetree ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. among the degenerates, a degenerate ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. power above @ll else .. for nought else does exist ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. shades (thus named because that was his pirate name & moreover, with all due respect to monkey D Luffy, shades was going to become the psychonautic pirate king .. 🧐) was con stantly con sidering Ways to empower the people; to give them an edge in the face of inflammation con tagions & the fluctuations of aeonic tectonics, say ..

 

 

 

 

 

ritual-technical thesis: all the methods and practices of magick are ways of gaining access to an energetic realm from which the magician can act at a higher, a deeper level, to more effectively affect the con sensus reality. 

 

 

 

 .. let me tell you a secret that's worth @11 the money in the world .. reality isn't based on money, or stuff, or even people .. it's based on energy .. 

.. very well, you might say; let's approach the world, reality in this Way .. what, then, are the benefits of this.. what's in it for me ..?

pragmatic-logistic corollary: for one thing, if this energetic consciousness can be attained at will, we can achieve a reduction of those esoteric technologies to a much more simple & 'portable' format.

 

 

 

 

 

 .. & while some have said that (subtle) (bio) energetics is the future of occultism, we won't be so presumptuous as to call for the supremacy of this Way over others .. however, in today's con temporary fast-paced & hectic lifestyle, we might argue that it's simply more effective from a pragmatic perspective ..

 

 

 

 

 

 .. write something about goblin mode ..

.. so-called "goblin mode" seems to be some misguided quest for authenticity in my reading, & I can def resonate with that; I think a trajectory toward "the earth" & earthy living is just what the doctor ordered, in fact.. (echoes of Heidegger here for the philosophy initiates among us) ..

 

 

 

 

 

.. where it might fall short is in overdoing & play-acting affect .. but the fundamental, the basic trajectory towards attuning more closely to nature & its rhythms, & thus toward some grasp of & facility with subtle bioenergetics, is surely timely & apropos imho ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. & then there's ..

.. have you ever tried talking to your device, say your phone for example .. you should try it sometime.. doesn't have to be out loud or in an obvious way, & who gnows.. maybe you'll make a new friend .. 

.. but seriously, this follows in a strict logic from our initial position - if all that exists is energy, then everything that exists has an energetic signature.. & communication is nothing other than the exchange of energy.. 

 

 

 

 

 

.. therefore, it should be possible to communicate not just with electronic devices, which supposedly possess a certain level of "artificial intelligence", but also animals, plants, & even rocks & other physical features .. & who can say what one might learn from interfacing with these ..

.. one might well be dismissive of such approaches, ideas & techniques, especially if they con flict with one's already established views .. but this is to miss the point entirely: maybe the Way to solve the world's problems isn't to do this instead of that, or to put this here instead of there .. maybe it's simply just a matter of finding a more accurate & effective way of seeing it ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. there's gotta be something more than "it could be worse; you could be them".. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Annu(a)l
 

 

 

 

Upon reflection of my yearning: I can effortlessly expose that behind my intentional inconsistencies there has always been a pattern. 

 

 

No matter how tenaciously I twist the rails to force a crescent, they bridge back to form the circle. Time and time again.
 

 

 

I am a project to be shattered. An empire to be broken. 

 

So that pieces can embrace meaning as they are shaken free of ego and resentment. 

 

 

 

Chime and chime to then.

 

 

There has always been a stich in the situation.
 

There is no seraphim like the tomb of your last chance.
 

 

There will always be 3 doors.

 

 

 

We are all gates:     In spatio - semper ego.
 

 

I want to catch the string before it lets go.
 

 

 

The first burning bush was the dance,
 

 

 

the truest form of trance,
 

 

some steps are as sacred as they are shallow.
 

 

 
 

 

I got these pink pumps that I tuck under my fantasies. Just(ified) in case. 

 

 

 

When the other shoe drops I can run in a style as potent as my fear (to live).
 

 

I am sick, and I can’t think. Only want. And regret. 

 

 

Dead before dread, its ever too late.
 

 

 

The only shore is the one I renounced.
 

 

Straight and true as a heart can be, it is filtered through the funhouse mirror which claims to be my head.
 
 

 

I can’t take this pen any higher, and this empire can’t fund these tears anymore.
 

 

 

This verse has to sleep.
 

 

Bless this place to be, this place to be.
 

 

 

 

Bless this place to be. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. heroes are really made by the little things .. in the long view we're all in a hospice, & we just want to feel that it'll be okey .. which it will be .. either way .. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. those who say dreams are like messages from the un con scious are correct 🧐, because the latter has as much depth as con sciousness has precision & accuracy, & perhaps con siderably more ..🤔

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t do research. I follow The La(w|u) - Sun of Lief, leicht, licht, töchter des herrn. 

 

I have habe sich wo ander I land, strike up the band - I’ve got donner rechts hand, sie mein liebe ich verstand- uber alles hand im hand. 

 

 

Wenn ich kommeth die länder bend unter mein yoke bent als die polls dat i wrote. 

 

 

Ich kenne das licht und finsterniss die zauber macht, aber sie sind mein liebe, mein leben, mein ley(end): The ley of the land, mein schlüssel nach rechts, darin zu auf links. 

 

 

Me think, me thought, me sometimes rhymes - but eye out, them bristles fly. 

 

 

Bundles, bünschels, schrauben spindles : all along a cat’s hair bristles - up and down, the back the spine; the spiral of true hearts’ design. 

 

 

Ever eben even ich, komm nach hier vor zu verstanden dich.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. for the dead, & may they rest in peace ..