Once thought lost, but recently rediscovered on a dusty, old hard-drive it’s:

The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App!

Behold the latest phase of interfacial life: The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App! No longer will the squares dictate your direction, your phase, your state as you move through time; no longer will you be forced to dance on the dimensional dancefloors dictated by Them; laid bare now are the temporal restrictions to your days, your nights: exposed are the leashes placed upon your imagination, your dreams! We are all now prosthetic gods and The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App is the last auxiliary organ we needed to strap on in order to manifest our magnificence. 

What you previously thought was your potential, your aspirations are merely artificial and limiting paradigms of thought—conceits foisted upon you by liars, pigs and squares, man. 

Embrace the new open-ness!

The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App will help you see through the smoke, man, it will help you contact similar minds across time and space (and even betwixt dimensions). It will even help you find your own mind, man. (Hint: it’s in that uncharted “space right behind your face”, man).

The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App is guaranteed to empower your inner disruptor, to circumvent the parasitical, memetic and rhetorical circuits tripping up your true being, your, like, inner you, man.

The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App provides not, the silly augmentation of reality lusted for by the escapist, The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App does not reduce your time to the hollow, blank and vapid pursuit of goods, it does not idolize the things and stuff of the shopping class, it is no slick piece of fad-ware—if you want to think “APPY thoughts” or are aroused by thinking that for every problem “there’s an APP for that” steer clear of The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App because it does not empower your weaknesses and insecurities, does not exploit your every thought, does not reduce you to a commodity even you can barely stomach. No!  The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App is not just another biurgical, techno bit of body modification to turn introverts into narcissists, the mediocre into celebrities or the the inarticulate into loud-mouths.

The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App opens YOU to the possibility beyond the commercially pithed mindscape. Be prepared to explore a region weirder than space, deeper than your imagination, stranger than time, more magic than nature. Hegel once opined that history is “none other than the progress of the consciousness [toward] Freedom and The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App provides that final first step towards our destination.”

Tune in, man. 

Fall 2021

#PepperedChub #App #Tech #startup #Scifi #Paranormal #UFO #UFOLOGY #SpiritWorld #Dystopian #Interface #TheFutureisNow

UPDATE: Fall 2021 has come and gone, so why has the world not been presented with the The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App one might ask? Loooooong story. Let’s just say that according to the Peppered Chub legal team The Peppered Chub Extraphysiopsychic Navigator App has run afoul of the The Invention Secrecy Act of 1951 and the commercial release has been postponed indefinitely. -ED.

So You Like it hot, eh?

So the return of the hot weather has got you all nice and chuffed, huh?

What do you dig most about the return of summer? Is it the return of that moist, oppressive stench as the city simmers in its own filth like a turd sous vide? The return of the bugs? The Mosquitoes? The flies? The increased noise as every fool with a boom box emerges from hibernation? The incessant jangling of ice cream trucks? Is it the steadily shortening tempers of everyone? The insanely high electric bills? Your favorite outdoor spot being overrun with chests and the leathers* that love them? The interigo? The sunburns? The heat stroke? Trying to reconcile our projected concern for the environment, for the future while at the same time thanking sweet, sweet Jesus T. Christ that there’s a meat-locker strength A/C at the place we’re going? Is it the steaming out of several pairs of under things a day? Feeling that ball of sweat roll down the small of your back into the crack of your ass while you stand there doing absolutely nothing on a subway platform? Uneven tan lines? The salt sliming you risk by bumping into a stranger on the bus? Your thighs sticking to everything you sit on? The tit sweat and/or ball stick? The constant risk of dehydration? Having to slather down with sunscreen just to go out for a pack of smokes? 

Well, whatever it is…

Tee Shirts and Tote Bags coming soon.

* “Chests” are dudes, usually with sunglasses on the back of their head, tacky necklaces, horrible cologne or some other Mtv/Jersey Shore inspired affect who walk around all chesty and top heavy because they skip leg day at the gym. “Leathers” are the over-tanned, over-done self absorbed chicks who love them. They exist within a perfect state of symbiosis as each provides the other a steady supply of reasons to “go ballistic” or throw a histrionic tantrum at the drop of a Hard Seltzer. 

Tattoo Radio

I can’t tell you how long I lie there before I realized I wasn’t sleeping anymore. An overexposed snapshot of party memory had me there…now I was here: desiccated, shaking and naked stuck to a red pleather couch. On the coffee table in front of me was an offensive number of take out containers cum ashtrays and White ‘Stache and Jordan’s Skinny mixer bottles. The site of it immediately roused a hateful plague of wiry haired horseflies inside my skull. 

The stone at the mouth of the cave had been pushed aside, yet the morning sun could barely penetrate the brownish grey smog that hung in the air. I peeled a plantain off my chest. It must’ve been hot—it left a welt on my side like a baneful third nipple. 

From somewhere far off I could hear a leaf blower. 

I sat up already fingering the new areola on my side as if it were an old habit of compulsion. I had to get out. Maybe take the thing out for an honest run…a few long curves to clear my head. 

Indeed. Before I even stepped out into the harsh judgement of the day I knew this was going to be one of those rides. No time for the narrow roads where [the] traditional [succor] is offered  [with] clarity and obviousness [for] the squares, the normies and the uninitiated. 

No. It is TODAY.

No helmet, no speed limit, no cooling it down on the curves. 

I Am integral solitude…anonymous communion; 

I Am the face at the window;

I Am the place where the…past and the…future meet in [an] endless, [erotic], vibrating hum;

I Am the congenital hallucination which is life; 

I Am the glow of the disc, the streak across the sky, the thing you see when you seen what you saw;

I Am the medicine, the the gift, the mystery;

I Am the BOOM! [of] Instant take-off.

The motor spirals. The rhythm speaks.

I Am.

<The brain is such a wonderful instrument (until God sinks his teeth into it).>

The pinched: Hunter S. Thompson, Blaise Cendrars, Suzanne Césaire, Willian Burroughs, The Book of Ezekiel, Tomas Antona, Wan Tattooer

Music from the Melvins song “Honey Bucket” from the album HOUDINI.

The Pareidolia Project Entry No. 3

[N]o sign of my pole star, although up here it don’t mean north;

deep space in no G-force, I more tumble out to some death bell

some bleep bleep, robot voice, some red lights—send help…

Jesus, do you read me?

“do you read me”

It [will] evolve as a…mantra:

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

once [more] none pinging my transponder.

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

[I] phone home, it just ring[s] and ring[s] {[and ring[s], and ring[s], and ring[s], and ring[s]}.

Drifting now, among asteroids that leave marks, and blackholes that eat stars, [the] GPS bedecked with detours, fuel gauge around E-street, and my beacons are all blinked out.

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

“do you read me”

“we don’t.”

Manipulated verbiage from the Aesop Rock song “Drums on the Wheel”

There is no app. as entertaining as life: left to right: rain running from an umbrella on a late night B. train; page from the sketchbook; a viewer's guide; pen and ink detail; past the event horizon.

I, Believer…

OR

Si no credideritis, non intelligetus (If you do not believe, you will not understand)

“…[T]he church I mentioned will be established, but it’s foundation, in order to be truly solid, will be dug in flesh, its walls made from the cement of renunciation tears, agony, anguish, every conceivable form of death…

Peter…will be crucified, but upside dow, Andrew too will be crucified, on a cross in the shape of an X, the son of Zebedee known as James will be beheaded…Philip will be tied to a cross and stoned to death, Bartholomew, who will be skinned alive, Simon , who will be sawed in half, Judas who will be beaten to death, James stoned, Matthias beheaded with an ax, also Judas Iscariot hanged from a fig tree by his own hand…

From this belief of yours follows an endless tale of iron and blood, of fire and ashes, an infinite sea of sorrow and tears[:]

Adalbert of Prague put to death with a seven pronged pikestaff, Adrian hammered to death over an anvilAfra of Augsburg burned at the stake, Agapitus of Praeneste burned at the stake hanging by his feet, Agnes of Rome disemboweled, Agricola of Bologna crucified and imaled on nails, Agueda of Sicily stabbed six times, Alphege of Canterbury beaten to death with the shinbone of an ox, Anastasia of sirmium burned at the stake with her breasts cut off, Ansanus of Siena his entrails ripped out, Antonius of Pamiers drawn and quartered, Anthony of Rivoli stoned and burned alive, Apollinaris of Ravenna clubbed to death, Apollonia of Alexandria burned at the stake after her teeth had been knocked out, Augusta of Treviso decapitated and burned at the stake, Aurea of Ostia drowned with a millstone around her neck, Aurea of Syria bled to death by being forced onto a chair covered with nails, Auta shot with arrows, Babylas of Antioch decapitated Barbara of Nicomedia likewise, Barnabas of Cyprus stoned and burned at the stake, Beatrice of Rome strangled, Benignus of Dijon speared to death, Blaise of Sebaste thrown onto Iron spikes, Bladina of Lyons gored by a savage bull, Callistus put to death with a millstone around his neck, Cassian of Imola stabbed with a dagger by his disciples, Castulus buried alive, Catherine of Alexandria decapitated, Cecilia of Rome beheaded, Christina of Bolsena tortured repeatedly with millstones and tongs, arrows and snakes, Clarus of Nastes decapitated, Clarus of Vienne likewise, Clement drowned with an anchor around his neck, Crispin and Crispinian of Soissons both decapitated, Cucuphas of Barcelona disemboweled, Cyprian of Carthage beheaded, young Cyricus of Tarsus killed by a judge who knocked his head against the stairs of the tribunal…Donatus of Arezzo decapitated, Eliphius of Rampillon scalped, Emerita burned alive, Emilian of Trevi decapitated, Emmeramus of Regensburg tied to a ladder and put to death, Engratia of Saragossa decapitated, Erasamus of Gaeta also called Elmo stretched on a windlass, Escubiculus beheaded, Eskil of Sweden stoned to death, Eulalia of Merida decapitated, Euphemia of Chalcedon put to the sword, Eutropius of Saintes beheaded with an ax, Fabian stabbed and spiked, Faith of Agen beheaded, Felicitas and seven sons beheaded with a sword, Felix and his brother Adauctus likewise, Ferreolus of Besançon decapitated, Fidelis of Sigmaringen beaten to death with a spiked club, Firminus of Pamplona beheaded, Flavia Domitilla likewise, Fortunas of Evora probably met the same fate, Fructoasus of Tarragon burned at the stake, Gaudentius of France decapitated, Gelasius likewise with iron spikes, Gengolf of Burgundy assassinated by his wife’s lover, Gerard Sagreda of Budapest speared to death, Gerean of Cologne decapitated, the twins Gervase and Protase likewise, Godleva and Ghistelles strangled, Gratus of Aosta decapitated, Hermengild clubbed to death, Hero stabbed with a sword, Hippolytus dragge do his death by a horse, Ignatius of Azevedo murdered by the Calvinists, who are not Catholics, Januarius of Naples decapitated after beaing thrown to wild beasts and then into a furnace, Joan of Arc burned at the stake, John de Britto h=beheaded, John Fisher decapitated, John of Nepomuk drowned in the river Vltava, John of Prado stabbed in the head, Julia of Corsica whose breasts were cut off before she was crucified, Juliana of Nicomedia decapitated, Justa and Ruffina of Seville the former killed on the wheel and the latter strangled, Justina of Antioch thrown into a cauldron of boiling tar and then beheaded, Justus and Pastor [of] Alcalá de Henares decapitated, Killian of Würzburg decapitated, Lawrence burned on a gridiron, Léger of Autun decapitated after his eyes and tongue were torn out, Leocadia of Toledo thrown to her death from a high cliff, Livinus of Ghent decapitated after his tongue was torn out, Longinus decapitated, Lucy of Syracuse beheaded after having her eyes plucked out, Ludmilla of Prague strangled, Maginus of Tarragon decapitated with a serrated scythe, Mamas of Cappodocia disemboweled, Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael Manuel put to death with an iron nail embedded in each nipple and an iron rod driven through his head from ear to ear and all three beheaded, Margaret of Antioch killed with a firebrand and an iron comb, Maria Goretti strangled, Marius of Persia put to the sword and his hands amputated, Martina of Rome decapitated, the martyrs of Morocco, Berard of Carbio, Peter of Gimignano, Otto, Adjuto, and Accursio, beheaded, those of Japan all twenty-six crucified, speared and burned alive, Maurice of Agaune put to the sword, Meinrad of Einsiedeln clubbed to death, Menas of Alexandria also put to the sword, Mercurius of Cappadocia decapitated, Nicasius of Rheims likewise, Odili of Huy shot with arrows, Paneras beheaded, Pantaleon of Nicodemia likewise, Paphnutius crucified, Patroclus of Troyes and Soest likewise, Paul of Tarsus…likewise, Palagius drawn and quartered, Perpetua and her slave Felicity of Carthage both gored by a ragin bull, Peter of Rates killed with a sword, Peter of Verona his head slashed with a cutlass and a dagger driven into his chest, Philomena shot with arrows and anchored, Piaton of Tournai scalped, Polycarp stabbed and burned alive, Prisca of Rome devoured by lions, Processus and Martinian probably met the same fate, Quintinus nails driven into his head and other parts of his body, Quirinus of Rouen scalped, Quiteria of Coimbra decapitated by her own father, Reine of Alise put to the sword, Renaud of Dortmund bludgeoned to death with a mason’s mallet, Restituta of Naples burned at the stake, Roland put to the sword, Romanus of Antioch strangled to death after his tongue was torn out…Sabinian of Sens beheaded, Sabinus of Assis stoned to death, Saturninus of Toulouse dragged to his death by a bull, Sebasian peirced by arrows, Secundus of Asti decapitated, Servatius of Tongres and Maastricht killed by a blow to the head with a wooden clog, Severus of Barcelona killed by having nails embedded in his head, Sidwell of Exeter decapitated, Sigismund king of Burgundy thrown into a well, Sixtus decapitated, Stephen stoned to death, Symphorian of Autun decapitated, Taresius stoned to death, Thecla of Iconium mutilated and burned alive, Theodore burned at the stake, Thomas Becket of Canterbury a sword driven into his skull, Thomas More beheaded, Thyrsus sawed in half, Tiburtius beheaded, Timothy of Ephesus stoned to death, Torquatus and the twenty-seven killed by general Muça at the gates of Guimarāes, Tropez of Pisa decapitated, Urbanus, Valeria of Limoges, and Valerian and Venantius of Camerino met the same fate, Victor decapitated, Victor of Marseilles beheaded, Victoria of Rome put to death after having her toungue pulled out, Vincent of Saragossa tortured to death with a millstone, grid, and spikes, Virgilius of Trent beaten to death with a wooden clog, Vitalis of Revenna put to the sword, Wilgefortis or Livrade or Eutropia the bearded virgin crucified, ad so on and so forth…”

Excerpt borrowed from ‘The Gospel According to Jesus Christ’ by Jose Saramago. I cannot recommend it enough; the latin phrase/subtitle above is something some guy named Isaiah said in a different book.

I, Satan…

“Of course, good and evil do exist, and the responsibility for drawing a line between the two falls to each of us. I am not Allah, God forbid, and I was not the one who planted such absurdities into the heads of [humanity]; they came up with it all by themselves…I am not the source of all the evil in the world. Many people sin out of their own blind ambition, lust, lack of will power, baseness, and most often, out of their own idiocy without any instigation, deception or temptation on my part…For centuries, countless accusations have been leveled at me, but [most are] far from the truth.

Sure I work very hard so you might create grave sins. But some [fools] claim that all of you who gape, sneeze or even fart are my dupes, which tells me they haven’t understood me in the least….If only my angry and shallow enemies, who never tire of condemning me, would remember that it was the Almighty Himself who granted me life until Judgement Day, while allotting them no more than sixty or seventy years…”

Excerpt borrowed (and selfishly manipulated) from the book ‘My Name Is Red’ by Orhan Pamuk. I highly recommend it. 

B.R.A.I.N.S.T.O.R.M.S.

Summary of a covert communique with A.I.M. contact “Macho Swiss”:

From all received accounts M.O.D.O.K., like the rest of us over the last year, has found himself with quite a bit of free time on his hands. Apparently during a recent spell of quarantine induced “cabin fever” M.O.D.O.K. began reflecting upon his past. Since he can instantly recall every fact he has ever learned, every thing he has ever experienced—this gave him a lot to ponder. At least during the first few days of, what has been described by those around him as, his “reflective-computational-journey”. Soon however, he found himself dwelling upon insights gleaned during the dreams he experienced in his former life. [George Tarleton was always bit of a sad-sack dreamer Ed.] Eventually such reflections lead him to wonder, “are dreams actual experiences?” Since he himself has not had a dream since the late 60’s [by all accounts M.O.D.O.K. does not dream. Ed.] he needed a refresher on what they were like, to experience them anew. Thusly, having procured a few brains from some “volunteers” he plumbed their unconscious depths hoping for a refreshed perspective. Unfortunately this initial thought experiment was not as easy as shifting himself out of Time-Space (a basic task that would normally require no more than 0.000113 milliseconds of computing). No, this conundrum required the assistance of even more volunteers (and then even more) as well as countless days of processing. As of this writing M.O.D.O.K seems to have narrowed his initial inquiry to a few base sub-questions [the following is a direct transcript from a recording made by Macho Swiss on her phone during a high ranking A.I.M. staff meeting]:

M.O.D.O.K. <<<Dreams are unlike anything, but seem to be like something…is this a covert contradiction? Can one sustain the principle that if a dream seems to have been like something, it was something? <<<[garbled]…This would [garbled] lead one to believe the present tense version of this principle is unassailable:….If it seems to be something like something to be X, then it is like something to be X, correct? I hesitate…

<<<We may need more volunteers…

The pinched: Daniel C. Dennett, Character Level Wiki M.O.D.O.K. page, Jack Kirby

This rendition of the Brain Blasting One was recently posted here along with the wildest array of M.O.D.O.K.s you can imagine. Check it.

The Pareidolia Project Entry No. 2

(Excerpts from an exchange that started off on the F.A.Q. page)

What’s with this Pareidolia project?

The Pareidolia Project an ongoing visual exercise—a way of combining the visible and the impossible and should be engaged in as readily as one undertakes a soduko puzzle, a youtube video or compulsively looking at one's phone. The imaginative act, the slightest act of creativity is inimical to the blue light commercialized pithing we are subjected to everyday. It’s a passive way of rebelling.

How so?

Our mental/personal space is assailed from every direction by any number of mediums. Constantly. It should seem almost a matter of survival, of protecting one’s sanity and sense of well-being by creating something beyond what we’re told to see, to idolize, to want.

Isn’t that escapist?

It is not advisable to live in a world totally detached from reality, circling about in one’s own head-realm like a madman. But to that end, look around—how many people are doing that already? Just walking around glassy-eyed, slack-jawed like zombies staring into their screens. Leaving the floodgates of the imagination open is a way to coexist with the plastic ugly of the world; a way to exist without being mentally colonized, to, as the Sufis would say, be in the world, not of it.

Can that be explained with a little less academic mystical mumbo jumbo?

Sure. Dylan Thomas once wrote, in his poem I Have Longed to Move Away, of the half convention and half lie that a life may become when lorded over by a terrible secret, a secret that hums just under the noise and distractions of everyday life. He wondered if only there were some way to be rid of it, to confront it and move on. Let us interpret the “secret” of the poem not as so many might—as the admission of an affair, a sin etc.—but rather a sort of realization that we know our modern life of conveniences is a farce arrived at not willingly or through any real individual effort, but by a sort of subtle and insidious coercion—one that came so slow we didn’t realize it until it was too late—like the beer gut of middle age. And now here we are pretending that everything is alright. It is not. We are, ostensibly, “living our best lives”, but secretly wishing it were better, wishing that there were some meaning, a point to it all besides presenting to a semi anonymous and ancillary group of “friends” and “followers” the illusion that our life is perfect. 

That seems a downer way of looking at the world.

That is not a question. That said, the goal is to have a good time as often as possible. Life, like the song goes, is the best game in town, mang. The only thing is, instead of smiling and gulping it down with a big selfie smile, we should politely decline the turd sandwich when it’s offered up. We really should. Life is much, much too precious and short to see it any other way.

to be continued…

From left to right: Ripped paint spot in a Chiang Mai train station; Not really sure what’s going on with the hairy legs; Why not wings?

The Pareidolia Project Entry No. 1

Don’t underestimate this idea of mine, which calls to mind that it would not be too much of an effort to pause sometimes, to look into…stains on walls, the ashes from the fire, the clouds, the mud, or other similar places…[there] you will find fantastic inventions that awaken genius: new inventions, such  as compositions of battles, animals, men as well as diverse compositions of landscapes and monstrous things as devils and the like. These will do you well because they will awaken genius with[in] this jumble of things. 

Nietzsche once opined that “No artist tolerates reality.” 

No one should!  In both the ordinary and extraordinary moments of life, our thought does not manifest its freedom to its fullest extent. [Our minds are]  unceasingly threatened [assualted by exploitative forces projecting unnecessary—unnatural!—anxieties, fears, wants etc.] on to us. It coincides with a thousand and one things which restrict it [;a thousand and one things that reduce our existence to be nothing more than that of a self-centered, hungry ghost]. This [learned pattern of seeing] is almost permanent.

But yet! But yet, a rand[umb] word, an errant, accidental line, a blur, a smudge are all it takes to open the flood gates, are all it takes for the ‘possibility to present itself, [which allows] the [imagination to] observe NOT external bodies, but itself.

Revelation is immediately bestowed upon those who wish to receive it as it is.

A chance [meeting] of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a dissecting table’ will link ‘two realities that by all appearances have nothing to link them, in a setting that by all appearances does not fit them.” 

This beauty, this wonder of the juxtaposition is lost on those who find no higher meaning than the mundane, who see no marvel in anything that isn’t easily explained or categorized, those who see no value in anything that isn’t merchandise. 

The Christ of the peasants has never been the Christ of the Papacy. 

Simone Weil once said “creative attention, is analogous to genius.”

Let’s not to wax so haughty—though in a way, sort of agree while bearing in mind the following encouraging caveat: This could all lead to incoherence, the risk is considerable…[(enjoy the risk!)] Yet, [to the willing, the receptive] the work remains coherent. [This] cannot [be] explain[ed]…any more than…why a swarm of bees always has a kind of symmetry.”

This could all lead to incoherence…It may well just, and if it does so be it! If it doesn’t and that little spark of imagination, that side trip on a wave of spatial delirium ignites a blaze that consumes your thoughts for weeks even better! If the odd or the random catches our eye we should treat it like it is the greatest moment of our life (or at the very least the best part of our day). Do not dismiss the wandering thought, the fleeting reverie—everywhere there are surprises and sensations. Who cares if your boss is talking to you? Explore that absurdly random tangential thought to the very end. Who cares if you miss your bus? Figure out what that paint splatter on the wall is trying to tell you. What you thought you heard is oftentimes more important than what was actually said. 

Some may hear a malaprop others hear a koan: The complete teaching instantaneous.

There are those who see signs and those who see symbols.

Lay open the occult by closing away the revealed.

to be continued…

the pinched: Leonardo Da Vinci, Mina Loy, René Magritte, Max Ernst, Daniel Higgs, John Berger, Simone Weil

A splotch of tar on the sidewalk near Kev Snacks’ pad in Brooklyn; The first; shortly after; and then, again, more shortly after that.

Growth V. Development

[In the pursuit of higher] self knowledge [there are] certain ethical consequences [and moral considerations] which [cannot just be] impassively recognized but demand to be carried out in practice.

The King is a costume worn by the queen

CHORUS:

The majority of of men are neither superior nor inferior to women; the majority of women are neither superior nor inferior to the majority of men. Humanity is mediocre. Humanity has never been anything but the terrain of culture, source of the geniuses and heroes of both sexes. 

IUONOTIS:

(addressing no one in particular:) When my pregnant mother bore me in her womb, they said she asked the gods what she would bear. A boy, said Phoebus, a girl, said Mars, neither said Juno. And when I was born, I was a Hermaphrodite.

CHORUS:

 It is absurd to divide humanity into men and women. It is composed only of femininity and masculinity. Every superman, every hero, no matter how epic, how much of a genius, or how powerful is the prodigious expression of a race and an epoch [it is] only because [they] are composed at once of feminine and masculine elements…that is, a complete being. 

JESTER:

 Any exclusively virile individual is just a brute animal; any exclusively feminine individual…

CHORUS:

([INTERRUPTING} loudly:)  SILENCE the FOOL!  (after an insufferable silence:) HEED the words of the FOOL! It is the same way with any collectivity and any moment in humanity…just as it is with individuals.  [All “isms”] are a political error…[sins!] errors [in thought that…] true instinct will recognize and abhor!

IUONOTIS: 

(CONTINUING)  Asked How I was to meet my end, Juno replied: by arms; Mars: on the cross; Phoebus: by water. (all turn in silence towards IUONOTI ; after a long silence IUONOTI  addresses them:) All were right.

CHORUS:

 Like [the physician’s] Caduceus, [behold] a rebus that unites the opposites: “the he and the she and the is of it”

IUONOTIS: 

 (forlornly:) A tree over shadowed the the waters, I climbed it; the sword I had with me slipped, and I with it.  My foot caught in the branches, my head hung in the stream; and I—male, female, and neither—suffered by water, weapon, and cross.

CHORUS:

Nature subdues nature; Perfect harmony is a dead end. Out of the hostility of the elements there arises [UNITY], indissoluble and incorruptible. 

CHORUS AND FOOL: 

(after removing IUONOTI ’s Crown and robe they all slowly shuffle off stage holding it aloft eulogizing:) Carried away by neither water, nor by arms, nor cross, but by all. Neither in heaven nor in earth, nor in water… This tomb has no body in it, this body has no tomb around it—this body and the tomb are the same…From the Womb of Kings, the Might of Queens:

All praise amoral phenomena!

IUONOTIS:

(naked in the fading moonlight:) Infixus sum in limo profound et non est substantia. 

(“I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing”.)

exeunt.

the pinched: Valentine De Saint-Point, Daniel Higgs (p.b.u.h.), Camille Paglia, Jacques Derrida, Carl Jung, James Joyce

The Banana Seat Dialogues Episode XIV.

“Y’know that smell? Like, that smell that you smell when you’re smelling, but it’s more like that smell that smells like that smell you’re smelling when you smell?…that’s the smell—that Huffy smell. It smells, like, like it’s down from up in, like, the stunt mines…y’know where the Sandal Masters tunnel for wood all suck jeans and corduroy rashy.”

“Sweet jugs of Chevrolet…if that ain’t some itch paste in pony shade…”

“Right? It’s, like, total burger fur on the sex drapery; like, like, that Timothy Handle the Pulp Uncles popped on the Denim Clowns—like squirrel taste”

“A total funk detour shaved of fragrance; a dead tattoo battery, that.”

“It’s like I’m saying, mang, it’s like I’m literally saying, it’s that smell…”

“We’ve got to prickle up the gauzy horses and—“

“And bro thumb this Mongoose…Exactly!”

“We do. We do…” 

Sounding the Depths

Select passages from the Formless Warrior, a Medusozoa-ian compendium on Cnidaria martial tactics and philosophy: 

IV: “Even when called out by a single foe, remain on guard for you are always surrounded by a host of enemies.” 

XII: “Only the fishes forget each other.”

XVII: “Let no opponent find you drifting—only the snails and crabs.”

XXXIII: “There has been no age that has not had the experience of eclipses of the sun and moon, unreasonable tides, tempests or occasional appearances of strange stars and algae; therefore it is right to marvel, but wrong to fear.”

XXXV: “A tortoise is longer than an eel.”

LXI: “Balance is when ducks swim and crows drown.”

CCLXIV: “Be grateful for hardship, strange tides, and the toxicities from above—dealing with such obstacles is an essential part of existence. Even starfish and dolphins weep." 

CCLXXXI: “Only the foolish whale attempts to sound the depths.”

DCCVIII: “Focused attention can reduce ‘a million fathoms’ to the depth of a tide-pool.” 

DCCXVI: “Strive to posses no thickness, no volume, no color—yet, to cover a thousand miles.” 

MCXI: “The shadow of a circling shark does not move.”

the pinched: Hui Shih, Rumi, Eiji Yoshikawa, Miyamoto Musashi, Mencius, Morihei Ueshiba

 The Wolf

“The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!” 

The craftiness of the fox, of the cat, the raven; stones, drowning, the huntsman’s hanger, the farmer’s cudgel, the woodsmans’ axe, boiling water, hounds and rifles—all have been the undoing of the wolf. And yet, the wolf, like a perennial source of terror and torment returns. 

The wolf:  bane of the Æsir, gluttonous, malicious predator of the northern nightscape, one of the cruel and malevolent daevas of the desert imagination. The wolf:  agent of concupiscence and incontinence to Virgil and Dante, the bullying Zeke Mida Wolf to the three little pigs, the archetypal, scary alpha-male predator to little Red Riding Hood, “that creepy ravenous bastard at the door” to the Seven Kids—like late afternoon shadows the wolf’s reputation looms dark and long.

But for whom does the wolf toil? What malevolent master does the wolf serve? Is the wolf an agent of God sent to punish the wicked? Does the wolf serve the Devil tormenting and terrorizing the lord’s flock to test their faith? Does the wolf execute the herd culling plans of over-zealous park rangers? Does an insecure beta sheep “creep in wolf garb” to eliminate his rivals within the flock? Does the wolf conspire with avaricious, bitter elderly matrons hoping to cash in on the insurance policies of their petulant and ungrateful wards?

What motivates the endless malevolence of the wolf?

It is perhaps a question best kept to oneself, to ponder during the day and to drive away with pleasant happy thoughts behind treble locked doors at night.

What really happened...

Excerpts from a lecture titled “How it Ended, How it Always Ends” delivered by Hugo Söderström to the annual gathering of the Society Of Prehistoric Astronomy in Denmark July 28, 1953: 

“Somewhere in the pre-historic fog the realm of the psychic and the realm of the physical met in a strange kind of never-never land [and] we [as evolving consciousnesses] have yet to create the intellectual tools [necessary] to explore it; [existing outside of the ‘shadow of the mechanism of time’, it is] a realm where the mysteries of synchronicity, of all kinds of paranormal activity—including those of flying saucers are [but merely everyday phenomena].”

“The UFO [in particular] will [hasten the erosion of] faith in science by casting a gauntlet directly into it’s path…It will be almost like the cosmic giggle that shows up at the bachelor party of science to spoil the bash, [much in the the same way] the resurrection of Christ posed a tremendous problem to the intellectuals of late roman antiquity. [Intellectuals] who were, [by the way,] themselves Greek materialists; atomists.”

“Like [inspiration] emerging from the unconscious, a vision delivered from the un, the UFO arrives with a compensatory function to turn us away from the rational and toward the intuitive, to turn us from away from the paternalistic Apollonian solar masculine view of things…”

“Whatever lies behind the UFO mystery, it is a force which can literally do anything so it is fruitless to talk about it as a physical object. It can appear any way it wants to: as the virgin Mary, as  a Galactarian Overlord, as a gnome, elf, sprite, Paul McCartney; whatever. The UFO is not to be caught in the rational net.”

"The UFO comes from the heart, [from within], but it bears the very strange energy of the other, of the shadow. This necessitates the need for a new mythology to exist in the liminal space between psychology and physics—a new [channel] of symbols, actions and archetypes [as we become more individuated and alien, to not only others, but to ourselves].”

“There seems to be a greater intelligence that has throughout time repeatedly manifested itself in the form of a technologically or spiritually advanced civilization with knowledge that is just barely unreachable by humans and our understanding. It has evolved its appearance to keep up with our ever expanding technological, [but spiritually shrinking] capabilities. It is always represented by what is just ahead of us in the future. [The perennial theme it reveals, time and time again is that it remains] consisten[t] in undermining [the contemporarily] dominant belief systems and social structures.”

“We have slang, jargon, cant: we have the idea first and then intent and then language. The UFO is the chariot upon which the new will arrive and rewire the circuits. If science is the proudest (pardon the word) erection of the rational mind, then [it is] of course, challenged by something from an entirely different dimension, an entirely different realm which concretizes our crises of culture [and identity].”

"One way of looking at nature is [to see] it as entirely linguistic intent; that DNA itself is in fact a way of uttering protein fueled noetic syntactical structures into matter; we have to come to understand nature as a communicating system of some sort and decipher and heed its message."

the pinched: Carl Jung, Terrance McKenna, Jacques Vallee, Peter Sloterdjik.

The Cherub

As the relocation efforts of the Heavens proceed—and more and more details of its nature and new location are leaked—ever increasing numbers of pilgrims flock to the edge of the rift hoping to be the first to behold, if not enter into, its renovated splendour. 

“Discover New Moments Beyond Time”; “Experience the New Immaculation”; “Unexplored Directions Await ”; “Lust in Brand New Ways” read the promotional brochures.

Not heeding the advisement of local authorities, more and more begin to crowd the edge of the curve causing the dimensional seams to bulge and swell under their weight. 

Despite the sworn testimony of several high ranking celestial officials regarding Neu Heaven’s “bold and innovative” admission policy, claims “the new policy [regarding entry] will be beyond expression…ineffable”, and that “[the] previous emphasis regarding penances, pious comportments and external exercises will be disregarded [and that] a new algebra of Love, tolerance and acceptance will soon be implemented”  legions of Cherubim are dispatched to form a perimeter stretching beyond direction preventing any and all from achieving anything remotely close to nearness with the center. 

Silent and stoic they prohibit sight, sound and even imagination from proceeding. 

Wishing to remain anonymous, a prophet claiming to represent “the Neu Binary” commented on this apparent contradiction in true prophetic fashion stating:

 “Perhaps we are, like, meant to understand that like, in the act of perceiving “banishment” or “exclusion”, or, like “alienated otherness” through “assumption” or “reason” we are mistaking that there is a veil or mirror as opposed to getting, like, the true experience of admission, man…the latter is, like totally without “activity”, man, which is, like, to say that, like, isn’t “it” just a resting loving wondering apprehension of the manifestation of the divine that we are, like supposed to, like, be?…man, how can you not see that, man?”

Occasionally glimpses of saucers can be seen overhead, passing between the beyonds. Sometimes there are sonic booms. Talk of the Ma’ase merkavah [ed. deeds of the chariots] inspire wild speculation amongst the more conspiratorially minded. They claim the saucers are ferrying in everything from the first inhabitants (cabinet members, civil servants, engineers etc.) to sundries for the shopping plazas.

Conjecture and hypothesizing aside, for now all one can do is wait, patiently under the implacable, watching eyes of the silent Cherubim and their terrible flaming swords.

Highly REDACTED excerpts from transcripts of the final series of field reports and log entries transmitted from the crew of the TSS1-R Croyance. The Croyance, a French Confederation Generation III Surveyor disappeared in E211-68. The Croyance was 2 years into its 6 year tour of the Limits. 

{ed. all excerpts were obtained through the IFU&H Act of D321-09}

…at dawn [illegible]…"the hosts", as we’ve come to call them—unsure as to whether we are now their guests or their captives—instructed REDACTED, REDACTED and myself to gather our equipment and follow them to the area they have, in rather hushed tones, referred to only as “the fog”. REDACTED has up until now assumed [illegible]…a body of water. 

…REDACTED has observed that from the perspective of contemporary botanical standards Myrrhoblytic Imaginato  is something of a paradox in that it manifests  [illegible]...of the relativity [illegible]...of a taxonomy that has been largely superseded by our understanding of how complex the alien variations are are [sic] REDACTED it exhibits both REDACTED characteristics of phyla eukaryotic and amoebozoa and and [sic] also the uniformity of a semiology determined [illegible]…assessment of its [illegible] characteristics…[illegible].

 ….psychiatry is is compelled to use use use [sic] as its points of reference [illegible]….nevertheless….REDACTED still seems to elude any attempt at classification as can [illegible]...be seen, for example [illegible] as “the hosts” become…[illegible]…similar to those afflicted by erythropoietic protoporphyria…REDACTED.

{ed. erythropoietic protoporphyria is a condition in which sufferers are injured or altered by sunlight (blistering, nerve damage, psychosis, seizures, abnormal hair growth) and may seek relief by drinking blood} 

REDACTED has catalogued [illegible] as Myrrhoblytic Imaginato…[illegible]…a saint whose body exudes oil long after burial. REDACTED stated that as [illegible]…so too, did [illegible] some early christian reliquaries have holes in the top or side for pilgrims to insert [illegible] and obtain some of the liquor from the flowing remains…

“the hosts” seem [illegible]…the perversity of trespassers is especially [illegible]…they see miracles multiplying at the [illegible]…REDACTED "bubbling broth of mockery, disrespect, doubt, disbelief, disdain, and derision"…

…seasons of [illegible]….sandstorms, drought, flood [illegible]…originally nine worlds ideally positioned to…[illegible] earth…none of which are now inhabitable.

end of entries. 

original soundtrack for this particular episode provided by BLACK RADISH:

κατάβαση

(Descent)

“[W]e might [therefore] say that perhaps the ONE is like us, that is, determined and determinable and yet undetermined and indeterminable. Always one ends up with paradoxes when knowledge reaches its limits. The ego knows it is part of [this] being, but only a part. The symbolic phenomenology of the unconscious makes it clear that although consciousness is accorded the status of spiritual kingship with all its attendant dangers, we cannot say what kind of king it will be. This depends on two factors: on the decision of the ego and the assent of the unconscious. Any dominant that does not have the approval of the one or the other proves to be unstable in the long run. We know how often in the course of history consciousness has subjected its highest and most central ideas to drastic revision and correction, but we know little or nothing about the archetypal process of change which, we may suppose have taken place in the unconscious over the millennia, even though such speculations have no firm foundation. Nevertheless the possibility remains that the unconscious may reveal itself in an unexpected way at any time…”

[But remember]: “the intimate essence of the universe is not of the same nature as our own consciousness.”

“Art does not reproduce the visible; rather it makes visible.”

“[And] you can, as you know, forcibly apply the ideals you regard as [correct] with an effort of the will, and can do so for a certain length of time and up to a certain point, that is until signs of fatigue appear and the original enthusiasm wanes. Then free-will becomes a cramp of the will, and the life that has been suppressed forces its way into the open through all the cracks. That, unfortunately, is the lot of all merely rational [interpretations].”

“It is [merely]…lack and lacuna that are created”; “a debacle of the intellect.’’

“Consciousness originated in the nostalgia of the universe for an audience”; “therefore you stand only in abject servitude to your perceptive consciousness…[until you realize] “dogma is bluff based on upon ignorance.”

“You cannot restrict the mind’s capacity”; [Tip! remember] “the thing hidden is always more or less irrelevant, for in itself it is no more than an image or sign pointing to a content that cannot be defined closely.”

In other words: “That which is a stone to the ordinary man is a pearl to [those] who know”

or

“[m]eaning, [therefore] is ultimately a matter of adjacent data.”

“Strive diligently”, but be forewarned: “doe not call up any that you can not put downe.”

{‘“The Author has not given his effort here the benefit of knowing whether it is history, autobiography, gazetteer, or fantasy,’ said the New York Globe in 1851 about Moby-Dick.”}

the pinched: Graham Greene, Paul Klee, Ezra Pound, Mina Loy, C.G. Jung, John D'agata, H.P. Lovecraft.

That beer can is just for scale. Don’t drink and conjure demons.

The Cricket

[ “<, >” brackets indicate text translated from the original Enceladian ed.]

<What new horror has mankind’s inadequate control over his ambitions wrought? What new terrors skulk about the fluorescent lit alleyways of his mind? What new lemony scented fresh hell awaits? 

From the blue tinted depths of dreamless American sleep emerges…

The Cricket.

From the creatives who brought you “Occasional Moustache Complications”, “Dawn of the Dik-Diks”, “Return of the Rise of the Dawn of the Dik-Diks (the Sequel pt. II),” “Hospital Break-Up” and "Agnostic Prom Committee" comes the latest tale of masochistic dystopian projection:

The Cricket. 

“In times as scary as these, it’s good to be reminded that, 'hey, it can always be a little worse…'; two thumbs way up for The Cricket.”  

- TQi-88 the Hi”iakan Quarterly

“As exhilarating as any screen, or for that matter, pharmacologically induced rush can get!” 

-Clorn Aku, the Desdemonian Bugle

“If you thought “Return of the Rise of the Dawn of the Dik-Diks (the Sequel pt. II)” was the pinnacle of dystopian horror you have not been syncing your opinions with those who know better.” 

-J’lakiod Ustrœrkig,  the Ionian Spew>

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