Thursday, September 20, 2012
Twilight Chapter 14 Audio Recording
Something new this evening. I've always been told I have a nice speaking voice, and so I decided to try my hand at recording an audiobook. I recently began rereading the Twilight series for the eighth consecutive time, and took the time to compile some heartwarming images of Edward and Bella to slide through whilst I read my one of my favorite chapters. I hope you all enjoy it. Cheers!
Friday, September 14, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Parasites: As Above So Below
An acupuncturist friend of mine handed me a document the other day by a certain Heiner Fruehauf on Gu Syndrome. This Gu Syndrome refers to demonic possession in Traditional Chinese Medicine, but may actually have a simple modern explanation, or at least one that material reductionists can wrap their mud heads around.
The ancient Chinese Gu Syndrome may in fact be endoparasites. You know - ringworms, tapeworms, pin worms.
According to the Book of Records (Shiji), in 91 BCE (a little before the virginal vaginal birth of Jesus Christ), a "Gu incident" claimed the lives of tens of thousands in China. They were reportedly killed by some black magic voodoo shenanigans involving spell-cast wooden puppets. That very well may be, but I'll bet you a bowl of miso soup those gooks were pounding a high complex carb diet (ala The China Study) and feeding the demons within.
There's no doubt in my mind, reading Fruehauf's description of Gu and watching Markus Rothkratz's infomercial above, that parasites are a force to reckoned with.
The Witness
More relevant than endoparasites are their social and spiritual counterparts. It makes sense to me that people hosting parasites act like parasites and that people acting like parasites throw off energy to feed spiritual parasitic intelligences roaming the ethers. It's a sort of like an MLM, but way cooler and scarier with songs from the Ozzmosis album playing in the background.
Manly P. Hall writes in his tome Secret Teachings of All Ages that the Rosicrucians regarded parasites, germs, microbes, etc. as the physiological counterpart of demons, malicious spirits, boogie men, etc. They worked to remove the demons by removing the parasites through fasting, herbs, or tinctures. Whether one experiences parasites as ghosts or worms or both, the bottom line is these bastards must be beat down by any and all means.
According to David Wolfe, garlic will chase them all away.
Me, I'm less concerned with gouls. My bone is with the egregores in the attic that make parasitic behavior possible in the basement. Wiki says that an egregore is a "thoughtform" or "collective group mind", an autonomous psychic entity made up of, and influencing, the thoughts of a group of people. The symbiotic relationship between an egregore and its group has been compared to the more recent, non-occult concepts of the corporation (as a legal entity) and the meme. (Have fun with all those hyperlinks.)
Here's a picture of the McDonalds egregore... er... corporation:
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. ~ Ephesians 6:2
In the words of the esteemed anarchist, William Wallace - Burn it.
Keep watching.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
The War of Art
Badger
Upon reading my last blog, someone with whom I am intimately
related took moral issue with its content. This person criticized me for my
fiscal irresponsibility and cited my rage, guilt, and hatred as being the root
of that fiscal irresponsibility. This, of course, triggered my entire
life-thus-far dilemma, wherein approval of my talent, skill, knack, and
creativity has been confined within the parameters of social niceties and
norms. All things provocative were immediately dismissed. In short, the execution
of technique was the measure of art, and its tameness was its treasure.
I know this is all elemental, but I’m eyeball to eyeball
with this monster right now so come with me or click away.
The college I attended was the epitome of this wretched philosophy.
It was renowned as a fine arts school. The art students were able to replicate
in paint or ink with near photographic precision. The English majors could
construct and deconstruct sentence structure with rare eloquence. The musicians’
in depth knowledge of theory matched their instrumental and vocal technical
prowess.
However, their repertoire of artistic subjects was limited
to choice classical reproductions, religious doctrinal delineations, portraits,
and still life mimicry. There was soul, but it was the strangled topiary soul
that leers at us all today in the mainstream media, Hollywood, pop music, pornography,
fast food, Walmart, Costco, suburbia, Ikea, fashion, orthodoxy, excuse me
whilst I mop up my own stark vomit…
The content, flawlessly executed, was formulaic, contrived,
G-rated, crucifixion fixated, unoriginal crap. Those who were critical of its
deadness were judged as insensitive, while the orchestrated numbness pervaded
the campus like a yeast infection.
The Witness
If art is not provocative it is dead. Forget art, if
religion isn’t provocative it is dead. If we want to live we must challenge,
confront, and grapple. We must terrorize and assault. Life is a narrow bridge.
It is a battlefield. Creation is violent.
The ferocity with which we play with life merits our favor
amongst the stars. See how the Sun burns against the blackness of space. The
stars sing and hum with intent volition in light of all that darkness. The
clouds do not drift; they swim hard against the variant barometric pressures.
Trees and all green things force their claws against gravity. They dig their
roots down in earnest. The animals burn in their presence. Their silence is
ever ready to explode into snarls, shrieks, and the frantic efficacy of survival.
All stones are fervent. Destruction is the foundation of existence.
Art’s provocation is a threat to outworn forms. It is as
destructive as it is creative. It is the consuming fire that throws off heat
and light.
Is my art irresponsible and immoral? I certainly hope so.
Keep watching.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Tao in a Bottle
(Please strum to the tune of Jim Croce's Time in a Bottle)
If I could save Tao in a
bottle
The first thing that I'd
like to do
Is charge thirty dollars
To take it with water -
Water too good to be
true.
If I could unblock my own
mingmen
If jade pillows could
make dreams come true
I'd drink every day Three Treasures Tea and then,
Again, I would drink it
with you
But there never seems to
be enough jing
To do the things you want
to do
Once you find them
I've run around enough to
know
That shen’s the stuff
that I want to go
Through time with
If I could store chi in my
belly
Conserve it and never cum
too
My yin would be thrifty
My yang would by hefty
I’d endure every turn of
the screw
But there never seems to
be enough jing
To do the things you want
to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough
to know
That shen’s the stuff
that I want to go
Through time with
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