mardi 17 janvier 2017

It's raining frogs!

The "Pepe the frog/Kek" phenomenon has now taken the form of the "Dark Kermit" internet meme, Kermit the frog standing in shadow, dressed like the Emperor in Star Wars.

Which makes sense, since Kermit sounds like Kemet, the Ancient Egyptian name of Ancient Egypt itself, and Kek is straight out of Kemet, meaning "dark/black".

But most people seem unaware that the "fleur-de-lys" is openly Donald Trump's symbol, as seen on the "Man of the Year" magazine cover, for he was sitting in a chair/throne with a giant fleur-de-lys on it. For centuries now, the fleur-de-lys has represented royalty or divinity, but long before French king Clovis 1st christianized it, calling it precisely the "lily flower" and a symbol of the Saint Trinity, it was a frog.

I'm not kidding. The previous design of the fleur-de-lys was much more bulbous, and somewhat ressembled a frog or toad. The original reason why the French people were called "frogs" was because of the three stylized frogs/toads on their shields.

It was an ancient Celtic symbol, said to represent something emerging from the primordial waters/darkness and crawling towards the light of the heavens (EXACTLY like Kek). Druids believed it to be the most subtle and harmless form of Cernunnos.

Mother f***ing Cernunnos, the Celtic version of the Great God Pan, a.k.a. the Lord of the Underworld, Shiva the Destroyer (who was absolutely identical to Cernunnos in his original form of Lord Pashupati of the Vedic civilisation), "The One who resides among the stars and beyond the stars in that unimaginable cosmic realm known as the Sabbaoth" (according to the most ancient Sabean faith which predates Judaism by millenia and was secretly at the basis of Aleister Crowley's theosophy), whatever you want to call it.

TSATHOGGUA, for f***'s sake. He's on our side now, or at least he's coming THROUGH to our side.

Interesting times.

samedi 7 juin 2014

The Blur.

I met a very familiar stranger in a dream. He was Merlin, he was Prometheus, he was the archetypal wise old man who initiates us all in one form or another when we are finally willing to accept enlightenment.

To me, he looked like Alan Moore, wearing a pale grey suit that obviously belonged to someone else.

We were sitting at an ordinary kitchen table, besides a rather large television set, surrounded by "co-workers". I also knew them even though we had never met (not in my waking reality, anyway). We were all looking at books filled with pictures of breathtakingly elaborate crop circles and infinitely moving fractal patterns.

The wise old man, he told me: "What if all there is between you and other people is a blur?"

I looked at my hands, and they were so blurry that I could see through them. I heard a bone-chilling sound, like a washer and a dryer being thrown down the stairs, and suddenly woke up paralysed, terrified, and covered in cold sweat.

This was my very first DMT-induced experience, and it traumatized me something beautiful. Instant, visceral enlightenment that leaves me today with euphoria.

I now KNOW that the individual is as much a set of probabilities as an electron, neither here nor there, existing at many places at once. What if I had woken up in that parallel universe I briefly visited? This life would have been merely a "dream".

lundi 23 janvier 2012

Timeline of the Gods (V. L. O. P. E. is a FLOP)

3.5 billion years ago: An extremely advanced extraterrestrial intelligence feels bored and lonely, no one to communicate with in this big, strange, empty Universe, decides to create life in its own image to eventually have someone to talk to. Seeds life on Venus, Earth, Mars, and perhaps one or two other planets in this solar system. Waits for life to develop.

500 million years ago: Earth seems to yield the best results in the V. L. O. P. E. (Very Long Observation Panspermia Experiment), so eliminates all life on the surface of the other planets, they are no longer needed. Venus is now boiling over, Mars is freezing over, and the remaining one or two planets are reduced to an asteroid belt. Life on Earth must explode and take a new direction however, so mass extinction event is generated.

65 million years ago: Fifth mass extinction event is generated, archaic reptilian forms now replaced by more promising mammalian forms. A prototype intelligent, humanoid, reptilian form is kept underground as a side-project.

300,000 years ago (more or less): Mammals have attained maximal development, the extraterrestrial "gods" decide to take a more active role in the creation. Hominids are genetically modified with both reptilian traits and "divine" traits to complete experiment. Psychological conditioning is imposed through language and culture to ensure that future human beings not only look like the "gods", but also think like them.

6,000 years ago - present day (2012): Our creators realize that although we finally look and think just like they did at the beginning of the V. L. O. P. E., they no longer have anything in common with us after 3.5 billion years of biological, technological and spiritual evolution. The experiment is considered to be a tremendous waste of time and an abject failure. The alien creator "gods" wash their hands clean of us and leave our fate to be decided by their also abandoned reptilian side-project and their human-reptilian hybrids. The end, maybe.

mercredi 2 mars 2011

You wanna know how I got these scars?

On the night of February 6th, I placed a mirror against the wall of my room, sat down on my bed in front of it, looked at myself straight in the eyes, and very calmly slit my own throat.

Earlier, on the internet, I reviewed the essentials; where the jugular is, how long it would take. A mere 1 to 3 minutes, it was written. I bought a very precise tool for the job, an insanely sharp Japanese Santoku knife, it seemed fitting since I was about to perform the honorable ritual of Jigai. I was so indescribably sick and tired of this world, of feeling nothing more than pain every day, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

It took 4 hours. Very calmly slicing one vein after another on both sides. Watching the warm, sticky blood spray across the mirror and running down my chest. I found it both surreal and darkly hilarious when, around 2:30 in the morning, I realized that not a single drop was left. I stood up, looked at all of the red mess everywhere, at the dried-up blackness of my own hands. I had peed four times in a bottle during the ordeal.

I couldn't believe I was still alive. I couldn't stay like this, it was an impossible horror show. I went to the bathroom to get a brand-new bottle of 30 very powerful sleeping pills, which were lethal unto themselves. I finally fell asleep, holding a picture of the redheaded goddess I once loved, thinking it was over. I would wake up somewhere else.

In my last moments of consciousness, there was a vision of Pan. His most abysmal of eyes were hypnotic. As I admired the finer details of his big beautiful horns, like endless spiral stairways, I wondered if this was the afterlife.

I woke up two days later at the hospital. The doctors told my parents that they didn't understand how it was possible for me to still be alive, I had lost nearly all of my blood and then irreversibly poisoned myself. As they transferred me to the psych ward, the female police officer accompanying me gently whispered: "You must have an angel watching over you." No shit.

It took them three days to determine that I wasn't crazy. All they gave me was Tylenol and anti-biotics. I first looked like Frankenstein's monster with the staples keeping my neck together, but the lines are becoming less and less obvious with every passing day. The shrinks were concerned with how "cold and rational" my suicide attempt was, they said it took a "terrible willpower". First time I heard of someone officially being held in a mental hospital for being sane.

One of the more interesting patients here believes himself to be locked into an epic David versus Goliath struggle with every single public labor union on Earth. He also believes that Walt Disney's frozen brain speaks to him telepathically through his quantum computer, a quantum computer he built at home using a solar-powered crystal cube of Atlantean origin, given to him by a Native American member of the Anti-Illuminati Movement. They let him out early without his medication, a whole week before I even got to breath some fresh air. He is now suing the hospital for violating his privacy when they wouldn't let him masturbate naked in his room in front of the window. I'm quite serious.

But I'm free now after merely three weeks of waiting, my trust in the Universe is renewed, and the pain (both physical and emotional) is almost gone. I followed in the footsteps of Alexander, taking a sword to the inner Gordian Knot, which is quite exacting since both Alexander and I believed ourselves to be the Divine Achilles reincarnate. But seriously, now that I'm out of my own personal Arkham, you wanna know how I got these scars?

samedi 22 janvier 2011

Red Roman War God

The supergiant Betelgeuse, one of the night sky's brightest stars, is rapidly losing mass, 15% in 15 years, and now the process is accelerating to the point that astronomers believe it is collapsing and running out of fuel, and may go SUPERNOVA at any time, perhaps as early as next year.

When this happens, there will be a SECOND SUN in the sky for at least a few weeks, and night might turn into day. This has already happened, as is the nature of all unimaginably distant astronomical phenomena, we are merely seeing it now with our own eyes. Betelgeuse is approximately 640 light-years away from Earth, meaning that it already went supernova in 1372 A.D.

What happened in 1372 A.D.? Well, it is the year people officially started using the Roman numeral "A.D.", when Germany began minting it unto its coins.

A second sun appearing in the heavens above in 2012, exactly 640 years after the beginning of the Anno Domini numbering (before they used Anno Urbis Conditae, "from the founding of the City of Rome"), as the Jesuits attempt to bring about a New Holy Roman Empire...

Need I mention that Betelgeuse has been associated since antiquity with a Roman War God due to the intensity of its redness? Or that in Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos, it was the home of the Elder Gods? Or lastly that the "Planet of the Apes" orbited around it in the original 1963 novel?

Something sure is up here.

mardi 18 janvier 2011

So now I'm a Ram.

I've all-ways been fascinated by Pan, but I was born a Taurus. Horns are horns, I thought. But now I'm an Aries, thanks to the "new" Zodiac. The original Sumerian-Babylonian name for the Ram was "Dumuzi", the Shepherd of all people who ruled for 36,000 years before the Great Flood. Sounds like Pan to me.

It is also interesting to me that MY own personal sign has finally returned to its rightful place in the heavens, Ophiuchus, the constellation of Achilles. We know it is Achilles for the arrow of Sagittarius is pointed directly towards its heel (Sagittarius is "Centaur the Archer", and it was the blood of the last Centaur which brought down the Divine Achilles), and the figure is wrestling with a giant serpent, a universal symbol of immortality, and in my past life I was certainly known for wrestling with the idea of immortality.

The CURSE of immortality, to see all those you love inevitably pass away, to see the world change into something strange and new, while you forever remain the same and are left behind. Patroclus, Penthesilia, Deidamia, how I miss you.

I ask, why now? As the global social order is breaking down, as the world economy is rapidly falling apart, why is Pan officially becoming my birthright and my former Divine Self returning to the stars above? And need I mention that this "new" Zodiac is intended for the year 2012? Methinks someone is desperate to get their house in order after a big week-end party, before their parents come home and punish them for the horrible mess they've made.

mercredi 6 janvier 2010

Eroshima my love

Its almost impossible to express an idea that exists beyond space and time and thought, an idea based more on a feeling than anything else, but I'll try anyway, in this two-dimensional format. A Vulcan mind-meld would be more effective.

On 4/4/2009, I got my fourth and final tattoo, the word "Eroshima" on my upper right arm, my arms are quite symmetric now. If our bodies are our temples, then there's nothing wrong with hanging a few paintings on the walls.

"Eroshima" is the title of my favorite book of the modern era, the best read since the Gilgamesh Epic in my opinion, which is sad when you think about it since it implies that nothing worthwhile or truly original was written in the 4,800 years between the two, which might be true (most other mythologies and religions are merely copy/paste of what was written before, and everything written supposedly outside the context of these primordial stories were heavily influenced by them nonetheless). Eroshima is the fusion of the words "Eros" (love/sex) and Hiroshima, and its meaning (along with the subject of the book) comes from the imagining of a young Japanese couple, waking up together in bed in the small city of Hiroshima on that fateful morning.

They open their eyes, they smile at each other, they make love. Very gently, very silently, Japanese style. And as they climax, their eyes are closed and their mouths are open, and it feels as if there is a bright white light inside of their bodies, inside of their heads. In that moment of eternal bliss, they don't notice there's suddenly a bright white light outside as well. They are disintegrated, they will never know what happened, an orgasm that lasts forever.

On the morning of 4/4/2009, as I was having the word in question permanently inked into my skin, North Korea was launching a nuclear missile towards Japan. Just a test, it crashed into the sea. I wrote on my calendar "4/4/2010 - Eroshima will be complete". You see, it takes 11 months for every cellular structure within the human body to regenerate itself. Every 11 months, we essentially have a brand new body, made up of the new materials we have been assimilating all year long. The ink of a tattoo creates a slight interference in our naturally-occurring bio-electrical field. It is believed that after having remained intact for 11 months, the interference pattern becomes permanent, a theory verified by Russian "experts" of the human aura and their "Kirlian Effect" (Google it, even if you end up thinking its bulls**t, the pictures are still pretty).

So I always wait a full year (11 months + 1 more month for good measure) before accepting a new tattoo as truly being a "part of me", seriously considering the possibility that those words will still be there on my skin (or rather on the astral projection/mental self-image of my skin) after the moment of my physical death.

But what will happen on 4/4/2010, less than three months from now? Will North Korea press on the button again, but not merely as a test this time? Will "Eroshima" come true? Simultaneous nuclear explosions and infinite orgasms for everyone? Nothing at all except another "whisper of Enki" sent to Etemenanki?

But then again, the entire world economy could come crashing down tomorrow (its already over the cliff, playing "Wile E. Coyote"), human civilization as we know it could collapse to the point of making the "Mad Max" movies seem optimistic, and at that point, when people are shooting their neighbors in the head simply to steal the last can of dog food they might have left, I don't think any of us will care what happens in the land of the rising sun. Think happy thoughts. ;)

samedi 27 décembre 2008

The number of death

The elevator I use practically every day to go to the third floor of my local library, where the rows of computers and free internet are, has a strange feature: a button for a hypothetical fourth floor, which does not work.

There is a small sign on the wall saying: This elevator does not go up to the fourth floor.

There is a number four above the door, where the numbers light up. But it is written in a stylized manner, very similar to the astronomical and astrological symbol for Jupiter (which is supposed to represent a lightning bolt. Really?).

This is frustrating to me, since I believe myself to be the reincarnation of Achilles, the one destined to dethrone Jupiter. Is he synchro-mystically mocking me, telling me that I couldn't go up to his level even if I wanted to?

Just a thought.

dimanche 8 juin 2008

Oz-fest 2008

As my regular readers (all 8 of them!) would most probably know, I have recently become bisexual, and I am more interested at the present moment in exploring the gay side of my Self. For too long I have lived with one hand tied behind my back, and its about time I let loose.

This change manifested itself when the woman I loved, a redhead goddess I had been worshipping for nearly 12 years, decided to brutally tear my heart out without proper justification. There are no words to describe the trauma and sorrow I experienced. My pain eventually began to heal, but as a blonde, very feminine young man entered my life via the internet, I discovered that a new heart had replaced the old one, a purple heart perhaps?

I never expected such a transformation. I now see women as being somewhat alien, their previously unnoticed strangeness and design flaws becoming apparent. Not that men are perfect, far from it, but it is now obvious to me that women are definitely NOT the goddesses I once believed them to be.

And this relates directly to the ever-synchronistic wonderful land of OZ. You see, gay men are known worldwide as "friends of Dorothy", and I imagine this would make me a "Tin Man" of sorts, having lost my heart only to find a new, better, more complete one.

And I should mention that the name of my former beloved redhead goddess was Manon Lizotte, an anagram for "Lament into Oz". Very appropriate, since I literally did lament into Oz.

Looking into the reasons why homosexuality is considered to be an abomination by most people (something that you never question when you are a part of "most people"), I discovered that nowhere in the original Hebrew scriptures is the word "abomination" used to describe us, it was (intentionally) mistranslated. The term originally used was "ritually improper".

You see, it ends up the main reason behind the Judeo-Christian fear and hate of male-on-male contact is due to the ancient notion that women are nothing more than property. It was perfectly acceptable for a man to f*** a woman, because women weren't considered human beings, they were mere slaves, but it was forbidden for a man to f*** another man, because they were supposed to be equals. I find this retarded caveman mentality to be almost hilarious.

Let me now recite the oath of love between biblical lesbian lovers Ruth and Naomi:

"Where you will go, I will go, and where you will stay, I will stay. Your god will be my god, and your people will be my people. Where you will die, I will die, and be buried there."

Beautiful, isn't it?