January 25-27 - zipper structure

January 25, 2024

What the hell happened?

***

Love is the highest law, the realm of love exempting you from other laws, protecting you, because, like the right name creates a barrier around you, an act of love is removed from you. What is love but sacrifice of the self, the ego (Freud got too close to the truth) (and man is purely ego (I am no longer pro annihilation or ego death))? What is ritual sacrifice but the perversion of the sacrifice of love?

~

Some thoughts, based on too little reading as always:

• You can just walk out at any point. You're always free to leave.

• Per an article on Luciferian bridge between tarot and alchemy: “guiding the seeker to hard self-realization and apotheosis” two main motifs in my life, I now see they were along this path.

  The vision I had was one backwards to this: there is no apotheosis, no process of self-realization. When you stand above the architecture placed upon our psyche you see that there is no going up: there is only the long descent that has been conceptually constructed for us – hence physics being able to say there's really “nothing at all”.

  Constructed in order to leech off our life force as we travail upward through this unnecessary labyrinth.

• Must we pass through Lucifer first? Is it true that, the way it's built up now, yes? I don't think so. You can always “step out” – and research.

  This is the stepping out of the game – where the Investigator goes. Purgatory. It even felt like a purgatory, without my realizing it. This is the Nowhere – Purgatory.

  And what is genuine life but the Kingdom of God? What is the Inferno but the construction of the Invisible Hand?

  N was right – it's not God's hell, like they say in orthodoxy.

  Maybe one day I'll get to talk about all this with him.

• If we didn't go through apotheosis, self-realization, would we know what to do? Would we be able to see. But, there is such a thing, it's said, as sudden illumination, seeing: the grace of God.

• “From ignorance to divine awareness”. It's all backwards. It's all wrong. I should always trust myself and know I hold the key. I even named him. Backwards Man.

• I don't agree at all with the interpretation of “Lucifer's rebellion was necessary for the acquisition of knowledge.”

• Union of opposites – but this reunion is not possible – yet is the goal of alchemy – for Lucifer to become God, or rather, that he would be greater than God

• “it's ultimately about embracing the light and darkness within us to rise to one's fullest potential” - what bullshit belief. But, in pursuit of this, people can make this pure because they are pure.

  This is the true significance of the atomic bomb, except I guess it was completed?

There were more thoughts in this vein that continued the first night I got onto a boat with Captain --, his son, and his crew member I couldn't stand – he is my antithesis, or the type of person who'd be bothered by me, by sensitive people and vice versa, as he pushes down his sensitivity, needs a weaker person to blame or take his anger out on. But mostly because he played Turbo on Sirius XM the entire trip and, “coming off” these revelations the programming of the 90s “rebellion” was so obvious – repeating motifs in the music of “rebelling against the norm”, “I want to kill myself” - yes, rebel against the system by killing yourself so there's one fewer to rebel. You can easily distinguish by the sounds which bands were in the system (most of them) and which weren't (System of a Down, and to a far lesser degree Evanescence had some emotion purely of their own come through in Aimee, and Limp Bizkit had one good song. Most often a famous band in this sphere would release one good song as if the leader had a moment of clarity about what was really going on).

~

Bridge between the old world and the new.

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Everything must be conceptualized, must be fitted into the framework, the story. Everything in its proper place, for the whole.

But there are people who can do what I can't – who can play with language. Who make the language and forms of tomorrow.

~

The entire world hinges on N's connection to Christ.

~

I have chosen N as the paradigm and heart to trust... no matter what.

~

I keep seeing. So many things. I see him now as a scion of a different kingdom, echoing still, being suppressed with all manner of horrible truths.

He has turned, to me, from a dark shadowy figure shrouded in mystery who likes moving around when nobody else is, who moves through his investigative limbo, to prince of light whom I saw in that light upon snow-covered forest ground for the first time, scion of an ancient kingdom. All is genetic, ancestral, and this is suppressed [3/24/24 now that we're over I'm back in the mainstream liberal perception, fallen].

How is that so? I believe that is the connection between men and the Earth, the true connection – the physical connection between man and land lies in man's genes (ancestral memory is real (as Samantha knows)) – and this direct connection is hidden from us. I believe “they” are jealous of this connection – the inhuman ones. Strange tie to the mythos of Judaism and the fanatical, incomprehensible obsession with a homeland, with the notion of the “wandering Jew” - -- said Jews were “a group of people with similar qualities”, not a real genetic group – could it be that the “Jew” was appropriated by these non-humans and that's what they really are, with their nonhuman magic?

All people – humans – are innocent (as long as they remain human and resist becoming subhuman. I have always wanted to believe a grain of humanity remains no matter what. Perhaps this is why for some, for their actions, the only escape is insanity.

Viruses aren't real: things which appear reflections of the mechanisms of those who created them, or of their nature, rather. A virus' action is not human. Fine crafts, however, items made with labor and care, are human. Thus viruses are not natural to Earth or the human population. We know how they work. And we know, a bit, how “they” work. And the two mimic each other.

We expose it unknowingly by calling things, memes, a “mindvirus”, and are more accurate than we realize. What is the mind, then? The greatest weapon used against us? Mind is a vessel, a receptacle, a filter, a shimmering pure receptacle, quilt, fabric – what is the space-time continuum, the fabric of space-time, but the mind [psyche]? From this we get outer space, the collective unconscious – perversions of this one unity.

What are we processing, being made to process, but memes? Think... think... what is going through us? Information is not an adequate word. Neither is poison, though what we process, these days, serves to degrade us. It's shit. Alchemical shit. Alchemical waste. Things generated to produce shit, cultural shit, to feed us. Gradations of shit all the way down.

And then we talk about the fabric of space-time tearing, all in the same cultural era of talking about dissociation and derealization – totally blind to the conceptual labyrinth we've been placed in.

Judging by my own example, at least, by 2019 I was at my lowest point, in terms of self-loathing, self-blame, and being a prisoner not of false concepts but of the very hard kind of conceptualization common to “savvy urban cultural critics” (the лисы, the keepers, bloggers). I'm grateful I recorded my earlier state in middle school, when I lived purely in Love, with H being my one main cope, a boy through whom concepts could be understood. A more pure state compared to the division come high school, fueled by physical attraction, sex. Covid, the extreme rip in the social fabric, helped liberate me. Without it I might have, without ever realizing it, just been fully defeated and degraded, drowning among dying social systems for my entire life. Who caused covid? It's strange to me also that a personal rip in my fabric occurred to me 5 years beforehand, in 2015. It really was that. A thought: covid wasn't caused but was a spiritual “ripple” of the false system buckling under its own pressure, and all we “saw”, all manifest, was a panicked, frightened, chaotic mitigation of this rip to close up the gap that would not close. Even to say it was a “virus” - not that there was a mitigation plan for a virus, but that the virus itself was the mitigation plan for the impending fracture, the coming wave. That is how these “globalization” plans must be read.

Always know – we cannot see our full conceptual labyrinth – thus the true cause is out of sight for us, deprived of concepts and words to hold it in mind as we are

(How was mind limited in the first place? A part of it quarantined off?)

This is the “original sin”.

(Short story – made holes to brutalize them). Feed pigs shit.

~

January 27, 2024

I'm grateful to be able to experience such a love again, a spiritual love. To be able to return, or begin to return, to the place from whence I started these diaries, and my life. It's funny that the first diary begins just 2 days before meeting H, and the instantiation of this template of love, this spiritual love that was my crutch in life for so long, a walking stick.

~

There is a structure I'm thinking of, one we aren't allowed to see.

Is it not also a trap to fit everything into a conceptual labyrinth? For then we must undo the labyrinth.

And therein lies the structure – an attempt on my part to give shape to and bring to light those invisible others who disappear like a dream when you wake up in the morning, when you run out of things to read, when a stepping stone of information comes to a dead end, when you become distracted.

Why people like Michael Hoffman are crucial – they keep the thread to them, to that door, for the world, in the world.

Perhaps this is what Quenta meant by the намерение of decoders upholding the whole world – without it our material would have already completely degraded (alchemically).

–

The structure is an “alien” structure, like a zipper that goes down (rather, zips) normally (that would be doing our conceptual construct, the easy route), but doesn't unzip the same way: going backwards, it shows something different, unveils an image of horror. A secret structure. Built into the undoing of our labyrinth is visualizing this image of horror.

~

O said something interesting/helpful to me. What happened was that an account I'd followed, RSB, messaged me saying he didn't mean to fuck with me. He'd thought, hallucinatingly, that I'd deleted a tweet because of him. This later prompted O to message me asking why I'd thought the account was him. It was very strange. Either a messed up kid or agent losing his mind, or somebody trying to connect various accounts to each other. It seemed like he was building out O's network for himself. O (a little easily flattered and possibly duped by actors) considers him a friend. (“have a good night, surrealist girl,” he'd said to me; “gn asshole” I replied, for RSB had been aggressive in speech). It got us talking and I mentioned something about “depending on your model of reality”. He said his model of reality contains a lot of bad things but a few good things that make you want to keep living, and the bad things are funny if taken out of context.

I like this out of context piece very much.

This new information had to fit in somehow, this new piece with O: N and I are denizens of the past world, denizens and destroyers, last scions. N interlopes and undoes it, what he's in. In me all theories that passed through collapsed and all was turned on its head.

In a secret place secret to even the secret place, the outside-of-the-game place, a deal was struck, something secret to even me, pulled me aside, and that's why I encountered O, why I have a particle in his sphere, a link to it. And his sphere is the now, or the coming now. O is in the midst of a small nucleus of indie writers whose job is to break language and build new phrases. They are fresh. They are changing indie lit. They destroy the stale and expel hilarious new forms freely. They are lovers of life. They are very important to the world, the coming world, the restructured world. I roll a die in their hand.

I should cut it off with O, internally. I will. Maybe all I needed to do with N was accept the forms he could give me, place no expectations or standards for courtship upon his behavior, far beyond the typical though it is. He tries so hard to be normal. He's sending me more media, and I find hot that he has my new address. His control of parameters is like black flame. Blacklight. He can't help but seem evil, even though he's very very good.