Got a little summarization of things meant for Phoneutria, a note on Dee and the Enochian system, etc. Guess I will start with Phone: Let me get this straight, there’s a lot of variables in your math I will have to be certain of keeping track of,- you’re telling me that 11th-17th century Latin poetry isn’t… practical? In the same way a garden hose or an antibiotic might be? That is your contributing insight.
Mankind’s cultural memory is very small, and so esoteric and lost knowledge isn’t just lost because it didn’t matter- to the contrary. Did you know that, for example, Milton almost entirely plagiarized Paradise Lost from Massenius’ Sarcotis epic? But nobody knows who Massenius is or what Sarcotis is. Well, I mean- I do. But then I also know all the places that the more well known authors bit their (best) material from.
Anyway, like I said: I never claimed what I knew was ‘useful’. I claimed I knew more than you. All you did was say that what I knew was useless. Doesn’t invalidate the claim. Besides, how could any literature or poetry in the strict sense be “useful” anyway, English, Latin, or Elvish? (Emerson: if eyes were made for seeing, then beauty is its own excuse for Being) That’s just belligerently anti-intellectual. You draw, do you not? So is a book on art history or one filled with painting techniques useless because you can’t use it to mow your lawn or to prep for med school or take out the trash or catch a fish? It would be useless in any circumstances save for the one circumstance for which it was created: to instruct painters or those interested in art history.
Besides, I talk about everything in this thread, including semiotics, information theory, metairony, technomnemological strategies, digital physics, and Heyting algebra, or is that useless too? I guess you wouldn’t be the first person to argue that abstract-math was “useless”, but then, everyone else who argued that was well, you know- stupid. Knock yourself out though, you haven’t had trouble with that so far.
And why do you have such a pathological need to assert your importance over things like that as a web-developer or whatever the fuck,- instead of engaging me on literally any subject? (Because, unfortunately, you are unable to so engage me. I’m aware, I’m just being rhetorical) What little use to me you had as a punching bag for the end of the day has even begun to dry up, given the fact that you just keep repeating yourself over and over: that stuff is useless, you’re useless, nobody cares. I heard you the first 10 times. It’s been noted, filed, got it on record now. I’d hate to utilize the typical internet trope of, ‘well you obviously care’- but it’s coming down to that point now. Then again, you are mentally incapable of actually talking about anything, especially anything I had to say, so what the fuck else are you going to say besides that? Do you even do anything at all on this site other than troll people and de-rail threads?
I didn’t start this thread to have a protracted argument with you about nothing, and also, I don’t feel particularly good about being so compelled to hammer you: but I get progressively more and more sick of reading your stupid bullshit when I am around posting in the same thread. If you want to, regardless of the irony, go make your own thread and just repeat the sentence “nobody cares about Parodites” to yourself over and over again in there, you would be very unpleasantly surprised to see me not give a shit or ever make a reply to it. It’s not so much anything you said that so annoys me; (because you didn’t actually say anything) it’s the fact that I can’t get away from you and you won’t shut the fuck up and pull someone else’s thread down with it, even after I repeatedly asked. And, as you are pathologically compelled to be anti-intellectual, I am pathologically compelled to despise that kind of thing.
Seems like a little bit of a cope, a defense-mechanism, to tell yourself that all the knowledge I cite is ‘useless’,- as if literature needs to be useful, like it’s the manual for your television. TV manuals need to be useful. Philosophy in general, and all of my knowledge, is intended for the sole task of aiding man’s self-understanding, and by logical implication, the world outside the self. I’m not particularly concerned on the ‘usefulness’ of that endeavor.
As to Enochian magick: one cannot truly approach Dee’s Enochian system, without first analyzing his Monad; going in-depth as far as the Monas Heiroglyphica is concerned. In that work, Dee outlines a combined philosophic system and meditative technique, whereby the structure of consciousness is unfolded through psychic correspondences of geometrical abstractions, beginning with a single point, the monad, drawn inside of a circle, setting up the macro-micro-cosmos. Dee goes through the whole thing, from the slight tingle of awareness within the monad, to the most refined, the most heighted mode of philosophical cognition. That is important, because what the Enochian system is, is: a total abstraction of this process, to the point that consciousness radiates and fills the entire structure of the universe, or in fact becomes that structure. Enochian beings are responsive sub-structures that get discovered in that process of unfolding consciousness’ latent dimensionality. That is what travelling through the Airs is, in the Enochian system, it’s unfolding one’s consciousness to the necessary level of philosophical abstraction to make contact with such beings. Keep in mind that chronodemons, as I said before, are sort of the ‘opposite’ of Enochian beings. Chronodemons exist as irreducible empty spaces within the preontological fabric of that fully unfolded consciousness, inhabiting the fragments and tears within it, within the Real, in the same way that Enochian beings organize and bind the gaps at the level of the Symbolic, ruling various aspects of the outer cosmos and the inner cosmos. (I would add that, beyond Dee’s simple geometry, I utilized a lot of Heyting algebra and various abstract-math in order to, as he formalized the Enochian system through geometrical abstractions, formalize a system of chronodemonology through abstract math.) In the same way that an Enochian angel is the living component of an abstract meta-consciousness, chronodemons are ‘anti-consciousnesses’. Not un-conscious. A rock is unconscious. Anti-consciousness. They are destructive forces upon which one can hone the blade of their intelligence; inasmuch as they desire to kill you, you learn a lot by taking the challenge of struggling with them, to use them, as they do not like being used. They offer many occult powers, namely the manipulation of time. One must, in preparation for using either chronodemonology or Enochian systems, learn the same thing first- what Dee calls the pyromanteia. And again, that is essentially what his Monas Heiroglyphica is about, it’s the process of unfolding one’s consciousness in the kind of recursive abstraction I mentioned; “metaphorically”, the art of the flame, that is, of transforming one’s self into the unfolding process.
Do not taste of Love’s nectar too soon, for love does not so much deceive us as we deceive ourselves,- poeta excuset facinus vindices,1 (inasmuch as the poet must excuse the excesses of passion) [Didacus Pyrrhus Lusitanus Eboriensis, in: Elegiarum Libri Tres; Pseudo-Galli Elegia et Epigrammata Tria; Non Fuit Arsacidum.] and,- having never learned to make of ourselves a brilliant flame in which to stoke the bitter almond, that it be sweetened thereon; having not yet learned the price that were the wage of sin, and spurned, bred of solitude a ‘coelo familiares’ with the pitiless stars,- 2 [Nulli hominum innocentius vixere, nulli magis coelo familiares. Sabellicus Coccius, Exempla; Lib. II, P. 68; De Solitaria Vita.] so do we at last grow mute upon the faith that no bitterness shall follow the first of her fruit,- having developed such a faith as children,- or otherwise spoil an heavenly ambrosia. Or, in that phrase from out of the poetickal suspirations: (Suspinele Primaverei, Prelude: Nicolae Pruncu de Focsiani; 1868.) “la amor la amicie in vercic d’acum sufletu’ mi e mutu caci de linar, si amarul si nectarul amorului, am gustatu si credind in amicie din pruncie am fost vecinicu inselato”. It were a deception the poet would spend his entire life contemplating; an obscure longing,-- after Emerson’s essay on the shortcomings of the Byronic conscience, (and the fetishization of pain, or knowledge’s dismal Prometheia and the ‘secret truths’ of sorrow,- of all such beings wrought in that fiery element of the Titan which so eluded the reach of Empedocles his philosophy, as commonly found among the Romantics) as is shared, he believed, by all artists,-- namely a desire to somehow touch reality, to make contact with things and, even if only through pain, or the pall of Death communicated to our final extremity, to see through the ‘inima tesauru d iludii’ [a heart full of illusions; ibid. “O inima tesauru d iludii si d amora adesu in rugaciune eu cerului voiu cere sa poti sa vedi amorulu ce ai pus in al meu sinu sa vedi in departare cumplita mea durere sa vedi cu cite lacrime eu numele u ingiu.”] of his charge, and to,- for that obturancy however briefly surceased,- see beyond the tears 'quam exigua scintillulae’ [Quam exigua scintillulae in solis splendore lux; picking the stars out of the light of the sun. Theophile Spizelius, in: Nuncupatoria Epistola Arcana Retecta Theologicorum. Spem in homine neutiquam locandam; (There is hope for man, to be sure, but it is not to be found in man.) talem esse, qualis exigua scintillulae lux, si cum solis copiosissimo splendore componatur; (much as the luminous soul of the Sun is not to be found in the stars) ex Martinus Fogeliae: in utroque nostrum nonnisi una videbatur esse Anima, duo animans corpora, unus & idem amborum scopus erat Virtutem exercere, & vitae nostrae studia ac proposita futuris bonis applicare.) ] with which he names his love ‘in solis splendore lux’, that,- should his many names for it be discovered to out-number his illusions,- some vague truth might be recovered from his art, like that strange truth expressed by Proust; that passage in which he states that we, voluntary captives of this World, the ‘earthly vale of soul-making’, (a la. Keats) are so compelled in willing servitude unto the trial of the Flesh, ‘aversa Dei mens, mentesque Olympo avertit’, [An antimetabolic chiasmus drawn from Casparis Cropacius Pilsnensis, Carminum: Ex illo fluere, ac turbata recedere in auras spes hominum, amissae dotes, aversa Dei mens. Secondarily, Ioa. Mellius Turrenovaniis (de Sousa): Omne nefas specie virtutis & umbra velat, & infandum crimen simulator honesta relligione regit, mentesque avertit olympo.] only that we might make of the heavenly Ideas we glimpse through art, or the strange figures drawn upon the dream-curtains of our memory, or those still remoter forms discovered ab anima arcere cogita, [Iacobus Mullerius Ienens, in: Moralitis Decimationis. (Sortes reiice damnosas, quae & impiorum multitudinem excitantes damnis omnia involvunt variis formarum periculosarum imposturas habentes. Verum utut hi usum fortium impugnent, nos tamen in seqq. ostensuri sumus, non omne sortium judicium juri naturae repugnare.) Ex Stobaeum: Has quidem ab animo arcere studiose cogita. Haec enim te purgatio omnino vere sanctificabit, si vere oderis perniciosum genus ipsarum.] so many ‘involuntary captives’ of another world,- a divine multitude made to bear in our charge and, precisely for their divinity, perhaps rescue us, at the last moment,- somehow,- from the reach of Death.
Illusions or not, each of our private universes were portioned to the same end; one man is never subjected to more torment than another, or more beauty, or more happiness, though each will take their cup according to their taste. Some are showered with all their life has of pain at once, and washed away by a single fatal storm; some are meted out despair day by day, year by year, and pull themselves along with the grasshopper, in ‘works and days’, knowing Vanity; some find their early triumph in youth’s exuberances, and take their cup with dregs, that only bitterness were left for age, while others enjoy their lesser victories as they come, and stake their advance by careful footsteps, inch by inch. We all were given the same pain, the same happiness, the same beauty; it were unalterable a proportion, and differs only by mensuration. Thus, no artist would conclude that the world is lacking in Beauty and in beautiful things. It is only a matter of convincing others to look where we have looked, to which end we recite the names of our house gods, our sole pantheon and commanding genii,- given the fact that man will not cherish a thing until he has learned its name, nor think to look for Gods not marked by stones. The task of the artist is to convince the rest of the species of a single fact: that his world, too, was beautiful, and that the beauty of his world, moreover- the beauty of his world, his love, his happiness, of which he was utterly certain, and that he felt, that he knew- was not merely eikon,- was ‘real’; that it was not an illusion, or a madness, or desperation, from which he drew his fire and poison, his angels and his blood. This is the last consolation wished for,- a final reprieve from the horrible doubt for which the artist had struggled. The artist defends his world, his love, his beauty; he affirms its reality against the suspicion of mortality- that is all. Any artist who assumed for his task something less than this, or greater,- a political aim, moral education, etc.- has rebuked himself.
I come bearing names. New ones and old ones; names for new gods still more remote. My words are a cryptopoetics, a diplocyclonic (sy)zygospore plotting the ineffable trajectory of the clinamental divergence over the linear-series onto a new, complex Riemannian time-manifold; my words, a projected hypnonibbanic dream-image of the Divine Unconscious, a zairja or seductive anti-creation; the seed-mantra of a new rhythm, in which to accrete a new aeon,- a circle upon which to bind a new generation of souls, to a new karma, to a new Universe- in ophiuciis asynthemata-or still more properly, a kshanikavada and transaeonic karma, out of which to re-precipitate ‘the excavatory anamnesis of a higher Ontos from the image of the Soul’:
[size=85]The inner samadhi, in the context of a metaphysical remainder (the un-intuitable remainder in
Schelling, the Augustinian remotio, or the mone in Plotinus.) and transaeonic karma, is given by
the formula of kshanikavada or the ‘moment-universe’ in Buddhist texts, for which no true
Being exists and consciousness is reduced to a bare ‘intentionality-image’, that is, a kenotically
emptied vestibule carrying a seed-shukra or inner-luminosity out of which the greater universal
shuka or the divine luminosity, the ‘radiant flame’, will emerge at the conclusion of the aeonic
cycle, ie. at the end of the kshanikavada- unfolded from the heart-lotus,- thereby
transindividuating creator-created and apotheosizing them as the pseudomythic munikava or
‘philosopher-poet’, the transcendent creator-artist who, in the Hindu scriptures, is portrayed
through the sacrificial death of Krishna in a kind of cosmogonic balancing-act with Arujna, or
his ‘other half’, to carry on the language already here established, such that the karmic cycle itself
is prevented from accumulating a systemic excess and becoming impermeable, that is,
inescapable. While the bodhisattva (or the zaddik in Hebraic theology) refuses re-absorption into
the godmind and plunges himself back into the trial of mortality (by way of an act of deliberated
and conscious sin mirroring the divine infidelity) so that, by remaining in the world, he might
enjoy the opportunity to teach other men and save more souls from the aeon or cycle of rebirth,
the munikava, as divine creator-poet, (recalling the katabasis or descent of the mens heroica)
plunges himself into his own creation and, in this act of annihilation, rebalances the cycles of the
kharmic aeon and the dharma. In short, the munikava accomplishes this by affirming an
impossible dharma,- the bythic echo of the self-nonself, that is, the aleph-null. The munikava
understands the fundamental dialetheic truth and culmination of the multiple vocities worked out
of the philosophical antinomies whose object-ification, as a distinctly philosophical knowledge,
(eg. I recall here the Meinongian ‘meta-metaphysics’ or what he calls a philosophy of objects.
One should refer also, to my comments on his notion of Aussersein or external-Being and an
elaboration of the Aussersein to the inner and outer dialectics of the vocities of Being and their
antinomies. To speak briefly to the notion here, let us begin with a harmless premise, namely that
metaphysics deals in actualities,- at least in its classical formulation and Hegelian-Marxist
trappings. While something that is both round and square cannot exist, that is, such a thing is
logically impossible to realize in actuality, that does not imply such an ‘object’ is illegible in
terms of potentiality. Such a ‘legibility’ or potential unity of opposing attributes I have referred
to as the perichoresis. The “object”, in other words, as a meta-abstraction, does not exist in
actuality, but it does in potentiality, though no metaphysical discourse undergirds any systematic
theorization of this potentiality in Meinong’s view. I would stress here that the alternative
dialectical forms or dialogical-triads I drew from Plotinus, Augustine, Proclus, etc. as were
utilized in constructing the concept of the episteme, do in fact allow, as counter-Hegelian
competing theories of truth, for a theorization privileging the potential over the actual, and a
dialectical form that resists equivocation of the Negative, as I have pursued in the philosophy of
the episteme.) lies beyond the metaphysical equivalence of the Negative and the aporetic scissure
of the basic Hegelian dialectic, [That is to say, beyond the realm of sensuous impressions from
which the Hegelian Geist is forced to begin its process of abstraction,- (or to which the Marxist
materialist dialectic reduces the flow of history) a kind of conceptual bloodletting and purgative
excision of Negativity from the perfection of Being,- echoing the more ancient doctrine of the
Stoical animus proliferating the immanent pneuma of a steady-state universe until finding its
tensile maxima or plenary height within the Aristotelian scaffold of existences, the excavatory
anamnesis of a higher Ontos from the image of the Soul- entirely at odds with the most basic
proposition of the episteme, namely the assertion of the non-sensuous ‘horror vacui’ reified by the
self-reflective recursion of the transcendental auton (a la. Hegel’s bad infinity) productive of the
generative semiosis of philosophic vocity between polar exchanges (spiromancy) conducted
within the antinomies.] ie. the truth that, like Moore’s paradox, (A paradox having to do with
simultaneously believing something is both true and false.) the only way to affirm the Self is to
deny the Self, and through such a denial, ‘reify its basic negativity as an active vocity of Being’.
This truth is mythologized by the munikava’s descent into his own creation and consequent
self-annihilation, as we see also, in Yaldabaoth’s deliberate failure in the creation of the physical
world and his imperfect self-identification with it that led to its archontic and fallen state.[/size]
