Monthly Archives: February 2013

Entrails

Your life will change on march 27 and november 9.

Just kidding.

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the way of two swords

Men that go about praising them and teaching others to do the same believe they’re doing it for the sake of their bodies, minds, spirits, or souls. However, this is an obstruction to the truth behind the gods teachings to begin with, and can only have become a bad influence thenceforth as long as they preach in the style and mannerisms that they do, layering interpretations upon ideas gluttonously until the original teaching becomes diluted. So the only true way to honor the gods must be to become decadent to the end. It’s better to burn out, than fade away. Respect the gods by not expecting them to intervene.

In my tales of summae in the city posts, I intended on posting the remaining few parts to conclude the story, but I’ve decided to keep those in my journal. I guess I realized that some writings can remain un-digitized. It really wasn’t for anyone else because the events that happened were to be witnessed only by myself. There’s no way I can capture the allure of it all into a fraction of literary dribble. I wanted to try, though. To enrapture the reader into a world of fiction and having them believe, even if for a moment, it was real. And I will, just not with this. This is mine. Just because a swordsman looks fancy swinging a blade doesn’t necessarily mean he knows how to win duels. The same goes for writing. Shame though, cause I really wanted to get to the part about evil clones, robots, Europa’s alien space base which is actually a command outpost and the mysteries of the human body and the electrical anomalies the bodies experience, because we’re actually androids programmed with biometric intelligence, the secrets of the mystery schools and And aNd the cool shit we can do once we’ve figure it out!! ARGH! FUCK! Alright, alright. Digress, H.

I dunno, I guess I’m saying goodbye to this blog. It’s helped remind me of why I was born here, or some hippie new age shit like that. Which, by the way, hippie new age shit sounds great on paper, but it’ll never happen. Not that I’m pessimistic on their outlook, I like it, but passivity, and pacifism will never slay the hydra. That’s what they’re up against but they’re too lost in rainbows, stars and fucking unicorns to see themselves at the foot of a hydra. I don’t need to remind you how it’s killed, do I? Anyway, who’d have guessed that I was right all those years ago when someone asked me, “what are you doing here?” and I answered,

“Well, hi. My name’s Jess and I’m here to fuck shit up.”

(I might have asked where the keg was, too.)

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Tales of Summae in the City III: The White Horse

It’s a little odd but I think there really are people that are able to channel the toils of which I’m engaged. Almost like psychics. I did some digging and these people are called empaths. They’re kind of like dark horses in the spiritual community, because they can read a person’s darker emotions as well as other strong emotions to the point that it’s like mind reading. Lately, I’ve been seeing more of them and they all have one thing in common. They seem to be reading me. It’s like they know my thoughts and are laughing maniacally because they think it’s coming from some purple flame that was just born. In the spiritual commune, that’s an important person. Like Jesus, even. But it isn’t. It’s coming from me and the conversations I’m having with the meunstral party. (I started calling them the meunstral party because I feel them to be an effeminate source of power, but also masculine at the same time. I know, it’s a terrible name.) Maybe I only think these empaths are playing inception in my mind or maybe it’s an elevated state of paranoia borderlining on psychosis. Maybe I’m unnecessarily doubting my intuition like I used to do before this debacle started. My habitual lack of self-confidence had been my most forward weakness, but is now being gradually remedied. Maybe I’m also an empath and my innate abilities are being awakened and my conversations with meunstral ghouls is how they channel! I still don’t consider myself a spiritual person so I’m just going along for the ride.

I’ve been trying to decipher the meaning of summer. This is the most recurring phrase I hear and have only been successful at unearthing it’s mysteries gradually. I got two more clues today. Yay.

I dug up some more dirt from Sirius. The egyptians called the star Sopdat/Sothis. The heiroglyph has a 5 point star under a half upper sphere with a right triangle right next to it. Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa Von Netteshaim gave this star another symbol which resembles a fish with an 8 pointed thing that looks like an antenna coming out of it’s mouth. The symbol reminds me very much of the Norse rune for Othala, which translates to “ancestral home” or “homeland.” Funny thing about Agrippa, which I’ll get to later.

Sirius’ epithets include Canicula, Isis, Robigo, Rudra/Shiva, Lokabrenna, Tishtyra, White Horse, Wolf-star, Dog-face, Coyote, Moondog, The Arrow, Hathor, Ash-Shira, Mirza al-Jawza, Pale Fox, and Yeonin. I’m sure there are more, but these are the most popular. There’s controversy over there being a third star among Sirius A and B. History notes it to have shined three different colors. To me, it reminds me of Cerberus, Hades’ three-headed pooch. Aside from the legend of Cerberus being the three-headed hound guiding the path of souls to the underworldly souls, there’s a red-indian belief that has that same legend. I’m going to note here about the underworld being something completely different to Hell, which Dante invented. Puppies!

Now, about Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa Von Nettesheim. He was a real explorer of life. Of course I refer to his eccentric inquisitive nature. Magician, occult writer, theologian, astrologer, alchemist, physician, legal expert, and a soldier. He was a traveler and, basically, never really held down a job. He questioned the logic of which society, at the time, represented. This is evident in the numerous dissertations he’d written in regards to morality. His friend Johann something something suggested he not publish his works for fear of getting assassinated by haters. And he didn’t. He always lost his jobs and as this kept persisting, he became a wanderer and an observer of people by default. His pupil J. Weyer claimed that on ol’ Henry’s deathbed, Henry summoned his ‘familiar’ which incidentally took the form of a black dog. His cause of death was never discovered.

What’s strange about Heinrich is that my life is almost identical to his. His neutral coasting through the hiccups of life and silently observing the world and taking note. His points of interest. Even alchemy! (of which my abilities can only be considered decent) I’m not as awesome as he, but then again, the dead has clout that ages as finely as wine. Of course, who’s to say I’m alive now? I mentioned how I’m drawn to certain author’s that have notable digits in significant dates in an older post. Well the spirits have been teaching me numerology. Well Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa Von Nettesheim died on my birthday. After his death, all his unpublished dissertations on morality were published and a dissertation on morality was thenceforth referred to as summae.

Did I just happen onto this little-known historical figure by chance? Did some group of beings from an alternate dimension lead me here? Was it the Fates? I wonder whose web I fell into. I wonder if it was one that I had weaved in the same pattern over and over again, leading me back to something I swore to remember.

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Tales of Summae in the City II: Dan’s Book and the Sea People

I have to be going insane. Strange prophecies have been executed around me. I say executed because I find it easier to believe someone or group orchestrated it than to believe it’s God’s will. Now I say strange because they were forseen by soothsayers and shouters. You know that voice you hear in your right ear right before you fall asleep? Them too. In one instance, by an eccentric self-proclaimed prophet. I debate about the legitimacy of these things constantly, maybe I’m subconsciously seeking out coincidences. But three or more coincidences becomes freaky despite whoever you are.

As for the vainglorious prophet, he claims to have received or channeled his information from a being residing in a neighboring dimension. I was the individual they discussed, with freakish accuracy, through an incredibly detailed description of my upbringing as well as the type of personality I would develop as I got older. Down to the singularly eccentric acts and quirks I was prone to do, down to which vices I would indulge. This man channeled these things about me from an extra-dimensional being 72 years before I was conceived. I was flabbergasted by the poetic prose in which the being spoke to the author, which he in turn scribbled down word for word. Of course, I’m aware the mark of a great author is his ability to get the reader to relate and there are probably others that would feel the same if they read his book, but I didn’t want to relate to it. Because it actually ends quite bleakly for my beastly character. This author wasn’t the only one to do this. It happened again in 1968 by another spiritual author. Then again in 1986 by another writer. (I may or may not include later the astrological significant of these dates or rather, the digits within.)

Last night a strange thing happened. The end result was my being arrested. Not really arrested but detained in handcuffs on the sidewalk. Yeah, that’s accurate. I followed the lights again. As far as otherworldly dimensions go, I’d been experiencing this Lumination Phenomenon or Light phenomenon. It’s where strange luminous appear diverting or directing my attention. (Once, they led me through the 101 freeway up a canyon in Los Angeles that led up to a hill with a giant neon crucifix at a dead end street , and above it was pointing in the direction of the constellation Canis Majoris, specifically, the Winter Triangle of Sirius, Betelgeuse, and Procyon. I watched as a nun spontaneously showed up, parked her car then walked up to her apartment all while Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven played on the radio. The best part was the nun’s license plate which had my birthdate in the number.) Anyway, I followed the lights again while listening to my iPod. A song came on where the lyrics were something like, you won’t leave me when I come back, or I’m coming back for good, come pick me up, or something cheesy like that. My battery died right at that point which was strange, but then I saw something fall from the sky. It wasn’t like the strange lights because the lights were red, green, white, blue, gold or purple orbs, each having a different meaning. This thing was like a shooting star except it fell straight downwards. A shooting star shoots with the grain of the earth’s rotation, never perpendicularly. Nonetheless, this freaked me the fuck out. “Do I go over there? It looks like it came close. Fuck that, I’m going home. No I can’t, the song lyrics told me to go,” were among a few of the arguments I made in my mind. I walked 7 miles in that direction, even through a bad part of LA where I slender Asian man should not be walking around at 3 in the morning. Despite the lights trying to lead me there like the will o’ the wisp, my cowardice usually prevails over these things. I walked toward it until I came upon a church erected in honor of St. Thomas Aquinas, (a name that popped up quite frequently among others since I began to pay attention to these extra-sensory anomalies) But I decided not to go further because I got freaked out. I didn’t know he was sainted.

Instead I went toward a Serbian church that had a strange spotlight pointed at the sky. It seemed safer to me because it seemed the least confrontational. I had to hike up a mountainous hill on the side because the orbs started teasing me about taking my sweet time. Though I can’t hear the orbs, they communicate in emotion. So I decisively strayed from the path to go straight up to cease further ridicule by jerky ghostlights. I hurdled over someone’s fence because it was in my way and ended up admiring the starry sky on that someone’s deck. Sirius was twinkling strangely between a frosty blue and a deep red color. Most stars we see in the sky are binary, but our sun is not for some reason. As I left the guys deck, I carelessly walked by in plain sight of the owner of the house who eventfully phoned the police. I used my silver-tongue to get me out of that jam with no charges applied and no prints scanned. I also pointed out the pointlessness of my alleged larsonic intent by my wearing of a bright red peacoat. On my way back, I happened upon two names. Enoch and Cassie. When I finally walked the other 7 miles back to my car, I used the trusty Google sky map to see the strange star had fallen from Cassiopeia. Only a week earlier did I familiarize myself with the story of Andromeda and how she was kept prisoner on a rock. I wondered if the spirits were just playing some big dick joke on me.

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Tales of Summae in the City I: Treaty of Tartarus

What if the human body was already the most advanced android apparatus ever created. science has now figured out a way to store data in liquid. There’s data in our DNA. Humanity is connected in an elaborate communications apparatus. Like floppy discs are to horseback messengers as the internet is to the human mind. Once a thought is conceived, it’s out in the ether of consciousness by which another person can seemingly pull it out of thin air. like that experiment with the crossword puzzle where they had one team of subjects solve it a week in advance and having a second team of subjects solve it in half the time. How fantastic is it that we’re all connected by an inexhaustible source of consciousness, like there’s a preeminent source of infinite wifi in one’s little 3 pound universe of a brain.

I’m not exactly sure what it is I’ve done. I felt this absolute certainty yesterday. I suppose most free-thinkers feel that way everyday. Nevertheless, my mind took me somewhere different today; again, that’s probably what free-thinkers feel everyday. I think I’ve been marked by the Three Fates through multiple spider bites on my left arm. Three by my count and in the pattern that outlines a perfect equilateral triangle. Petrarch had that. The string of his life was cut and that was what the coroner’s report said. Chastity, Love, Time, and ultimately eternity. I wonder if these things will befall me. Though I’d have preferred to leave an altruistic mark or some legacy of sorts behind, the triangular invasion of Ariadne spread this sense of urgency through my veins. Well, the convenience of it’s timing played a large role in it. What I thought was going to be my destiny soon became mere abortive dreams.

There are so many mysteries in scriptures all around the world that I find myself enveloped within them.

There’s a part of me that feels akin to some of the characters particularly, Noah before a metaphoric flood, Odysseus in his trials before the homecoming, and even Samson to serve his sentence with the phillistines. Perhaps I’ve read too far into them but I know the story of the Three Fates predates most of these stories. Even Barbelo beyond that. Despite that, things have become stranger by the hours. Strange to the point of paranormality. Something is speaking to me, yet more fluidly than any music I’ve ever heard. Am I losing my mind, or is my mind readjusting it’s antenna to something else. Something that has been there for quite some time. Is eternity an end like it was for Petrarch or was it a calling to be awaken? And if I really was losing my mind, then why is it that I’m unraveling inherent information that I couldn’t have possibly been privy to.

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