The future of man vs. the future of philosophers.

Youtube is a cesspit. But this is what anyone with reason has to face. This is it, guys. This is the future of the human race. Those who fancy themselves philosophers must turn to the hope of fashioning, in so many words, a secret society, by which the line of descent might be sequestered and protected- the descent of that first revelation, by which each of us were gathered unto the shadow, as it is phrased in one of my books:

" The Negative gathers unto itself an ‘ensemble of non-beings’ in a kind of bound transcendence,- pitting, in fact, the bound transcendence of the Shadow against the unbound transcendence of worldly wisdom glittering monstrous with the identificational images of Law, [James R. Watson, 1994: In the Monstrous Shadow of Worldly Wisdom; From Whence We must Speak.] in whose earthly guise the idols of a new pantheon have been ushered forth in ‘scientific’ mockery of the Pleroma. Such identificational images, as the final expression of Law and therefor likewise of Theory, are expressed elsewhere [See Giusseppe Stellardi, 1995. The Death of Philosophy and the Future of Thought; History of European Ideas, Vol. 20.] as an intuition of “the destiny and central engine of philosophy”, that is, a wish,- on the part of philosophy,- to exhaust itself and finally die, while being unable to in any way consummate such a deadly wish as spurs it ever onward." *

[size=85]*Stellardi: “Is philosophy finally surrounded… ready to give way to science, technology, marketing, etc.? Is philosophy dying? Perhaps. But what is death? It is possible to believe that philosophy can and even must die, or rather that it intimately requires death, and, still, this would not mean that… it will actually end. I would like to suggest that this movement of controlled suicide, far from being only a little trick in the twentieth-century philosopher’s survival kit, corresponds to the innermost power, resource and justification of theory itself. Often philosophy has shown, and still shows, suicidal tendencies. There is, for instance, the Hegelian death, coinciding with the total accomplishment of System; or the Positivistic suicide, in which philosophy gives finally way to positive science. To state that neither of these two ‘deaths’ has actually managed to put an end to philosophy, is to state the obvious. Less obvious conclusions can result from asking ourselves why those deaths did not work.”

Watson: “We have seen faces turning away from one another, but only by the light of the annihilating flames of all-consuming worldly wisdom. The wise ones, with their gods of mockery, have represented everything and everyone- every deed, every utterance- submitting all of it under wisdom’s law- the Law of annihilation and the pure identity of death. Are there today even the slightest indications of possibilities, shimmering horizons for something other than the mocking representations of worldly wisdom? Are there possibilities taking form within the agonizing field of our impossible rebellion against this mimetic nihilism and its incessant rejection of a Law which cannot be represented? Perhaps, a wretched ensemble of non-peoples who, in rebellion against worldly wisdom and its pure identity of death, somehow recognize and affirm each other. here, then, within the shadows facing the event of annihilating thought and its administration are connections and forms of thinking otherwise than worldly wisdom. The bound transcendence of the shadow dwellers is otherwise than the unbound transcendence of worldly wisdom and its easy but deadly identificational images.”[/size]

Now, to the fool who motivated me to post all of this on the forum. Check out this shortstack:

// alldamnnamesaretaken: // If someone from the future watches this they’ve probably had more pandemics, unless we somehow reversed climate change and stopped encroaching on areas that are natural habitats for hitherto undiscovered viruses, bacteria, parasites etc…
with the slow melting of the permafrost who knows what could happen, when the frost thawed during a heat wave in Russia a reindeer with Anthrax that died and got frozen 75 years ago suddenly leaked it’s pathogen in soil and water and it might even have gotten in the food supply, a kid died, others where hospitalized, scientists in Alaska encountered strains of the Spanish flu in an early 20th century mass grave. A lot of older pandemics could make a comeback when the earth gets warmer.
You could say ah, those where old times, we know how to handle pandemics, but having seen anti lockdown protests, and people deliberately ignoring guidelines in the name of freedom and capitalism, do you really think we’d be alright should say the Spanish flu make a comeback?

//Parodites @alldamnnamesaretaken: //

Until we stop encroaching on areas that are natural habitats for undiscovered viruses? Lol. Dude, that is not even remotely the cause for the recent pandemic… Climate change has literally nothing to do with it; humans have been dealing with pandemics for thousands of years. The one going on right now is nothing compared to a lot of pandemics from the past, from many centuries ago. Were they caused by climate change too? And ooh, that pesky freedom and capitalism, right! Your comments read like a wind up, man. The pandemic wasn’t caused by climate change or encroaching on nature. It’s a simple inevitability and one we’ve faced every couple of decades throughout our entire 6,000 year written history. There will be innumerable pandemics in the future, just as there were innumerable ones in the past, and the ones to come will eclipse this pandemic because this pandemic is basically nothing compared to other ones our species has routinely faced. It’s just the first true pandemic in the digital era, where mass hysteria is facilitated by instantaneous global communication, leading to the entire species falling into a panic spiral. As to the ‘guidelines’, yeah: multiple studies have been recently published indicating that neither the masks nor the lockdowns had any perceptible effect in combating the spread of the virus. All the lockdowns did was help the virus rebound multiple times which increases the chances of it mutating, which it is doing. And the masks were just comfort blankets for your face, to make feeble minded plebs think they’re safe. Capitalism: yeah, on to that bit of your digression. The only tool we have to combat disease is born of our economic leverage, and deciding to cripple the entire world economy due to these guidelines (that, like I just said, didn’t even help in combating the virus) is a foolish error that we will be paying for, for an entire generation probably: for many, many years. You might not have to worry about it, but those of us who don’t live with mom and dad anymore do have to worry about it. You know how many businesses were annihilated, how many families devastated- not by this common cold 2.0, but by the idiocy of the mass hysteria and the thoughtless “guidelines” (that didn’t even work) forced upon a lot of us illegitimately? Yeah, I’m guessing you don’t know.

// alldamnnamesaretaken @Parodites:// found the q anon lunatic… Tell me where you one of the capitol insurrectionists? Seems like you are about to be charged with sedition.

// Parodites @alldamnnamesaretaken: // Oh wow. You’re really far gone, aren’t you? Buddy, I think the Q anon stuff is insane and cringeworthy, (not that it is even connected to anything we are discussing now) and also just, well, dumb. And I think the idiots who ad lib-ed a pathetic attempt at insurrection by facetiming and taking selfies inside the capitol are just that- idiots; idiots who will be rightfully criminally prosecuted. See? You imagined I thought the opposite on that. What does that say about your worldview and feeble, limited concept of reality: that you cannot begin to predict the way I think about things, whereas I know everything you are going to say before you ever say it. You don’t even need to reply. I can reply for you; I can write your response comments for you and it would be 99 percent accurate. You cannot predict how I think, but I can perfectly predict how you think. What does that mean? It means you’re not actually thinking. You’re repeating what other people say in the hopes of getting thumbs up and social gratification. Anyway, I hope you do start actually thinking. As the Socratic dictum tells us, a life unexamined is not worth living. At any rate, nothing I said in my previous message is controversial or even factually inaccurate, so I don’t know precisely what has rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it is merely the critical approach I take that so discomfits you. Well, I don’t live my life- or my philosophy- on the account of upvotes and likes, and discomfiture; I live my life- and my philosophy- in accordance with the Truth alone, having no estimation otherwise. You should try harder the next time you reply to me, or reply to anyone really. Anyway, dude: climate change did not cause the recent pandemic. Just… Just stop, okay?

To associate my perfectly rational response to " qanon" stuff, as the shortstack in my post did … Can any of you give me one reason why I should even try having a conversation with people? It’s late in the game. You either stand for independent thought, for philosophy, for beauty, for art, for genius, strength, and virtue,-- or you stand for the collective- for the group, for the facebook hivemind, for likes. That’s it. I’m done. You can all snort Arby’s sauce off my ten-pack abs and suck my reproductive organs.

I come here and do not feel the divine burden of Ambition, as the great Neoplatonist and sorcerer Ficino called it. Ambition. Ambition to check the ancients; Ambition, to humor the Greats. When I write, I do not think of any of you… I invoke Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Liszt; Nietzsche, Milton, Burton, Browne…Let their spirts gather around me, against which I measure my own soul’s potency. Descending into this world, even now, after an entire bottle of Jameson, a shot of dilaudid, a nosefull of amps, and an unmeasured fist-full of oxys: what is this? What are any of you? Why can’t you just… dare; dare, to be Great. Dare and proffer your vision. Guys, we’re all going to be dead soon, in a few years. Just… just do something, say something, before you are gone…

Ambition, greatness: those are old dreams for me; those are Youth. All I think about now is death. Securing what now weighs in as 144 volumes of sheet-music and 20-volumes of philosophy/prose/text (each volume being 500 pages long; 500-700 pages, at any rate) against the shores of Time. I sleep with these roughly 200 volumes of work around me, in a great circle; printed and bound like my own Cross. I have a little mattress at the center, bare; just the mattress, on the floor- not a bed. From the moment I wake, to the moment I sleep: the only thing I think about is death… is Time; is 100, 200, 10,000 years from now. That is where I live. I don’t live here. I meditate and visualize my own body desiccating and decaying. I imagine the worms, the bugs, the dirt, the rot. I imagine myself turning to dust and blowing away with the wind. I imagine every part of me disappearing save my words and my music, and in that vision- I am finally born, I finally… exist. And I imagine the same for all of you. For this planet and its sun, down to the last proton decay: that, to me, is ‘death’. It is not my own death, but Death itself. That is what troubles me. Not the cessation of this biological process. It is because of that- true death- it is on that account, that I was moved to write those 200 volumes. In an effort to transfer as much of my mortal self into these immortal forms as is possible, before I die- before you all die- before everything dies. I have staked my treasures against the shores of Time, and the child of the Aeon, which otherwise sweeps our castles of sand into the sea… No… I have not written in sand. The child of the Aeon is beneath me. He is beneath all who raise themselves to the heights of my witness, where all is Form; where the only thing that exists … is music… music.

The only time I do not think of Death and Dying is the actual moment of inspiration; when I am in the thick of composition. Surrounded by forms immutable and deathless, be they reft from visions or from words; from tones, or phonemes; from notes, or letters. They are more ''real" to me than matter. I listen to my own music as if it belonged to someone else. As if someone other than Parodites composed it. In fact, I listen to my own works more often than I listen to anyone else. I listen to it exactly the same as I listen to the other composers who have succeeded in moving me, as if Parodites was some completely different person than ‘Tyler’. audiomack.com/parodites/song/op … o-6-rev-18

Edit: Added a bunch of ish.

Parodites,

I’m just going to be honest. Composer to composer.

Cool stuff. Derivative.

I don’t write derivative music.

You’re throwing your musical brain all over this board, I like it, but there’s that extra something you’re lacking. Music has been around for a long time, and you’re analysis of theory doesn’t change that people just want to see something new that moves them.

Derivative music is still cool, but it doesn’t have that x-factor.

So Parodites, ten years after joining my society, you are finally coming the insight that such a society is required.

Im still laughing at the irony by the way, of the fact that Id been predicting all this since 2011, which was the very reason to start a society (BTL) which ought to have been ready by now and would have if everyone had just paid the slightest bit of attention both to what I was implying and what was happening beyond “the news” – and that right as the signs began to come out that the big change I had been heralding was afoot, the dudes started to lose interest. Just… fell way into triviality, even downright left… like, what in the living actual fuck.

In any case, a form of Society managed to survive this, only it is now composed of a different class of members. Not classical philosophy but occult philosophy and pagan religion, specifically the religion of Odin, form the framework of identity.

Stuff that actually works.
My own philosophy is the only one that does work.

We’ll need an actual context of course.

A future man and a future philosopher discussing and debating that which is thought to be rational – and thus virtuous? – given a particular set of circumstances that most of us here are likely to be familiar with.

That way Jacob can factor in how value ontology, Lord Saturn and Nietzsche play their part in allowing him to arrive at his own conclusions about Society. And, of course, given the components of Parodites’s own TOE.

In the vacuum that was coming with the completion of the technocratic subjugation of mankind, a spirit of profound philosophical ‘speculative ethics’ might very well make use of the materials present in the spirit of mankind as the walls of appearance are shredded by the loss of privilege in the face of a deified fear. Or governmentalized, institutionalized. Fear is now the precondition to our legal rights. In this vacuum, there is the philosopher or a choir of archdemons. The philosopher doesnt redeem, he represses the bad, he gives it its place where it is happy, with the other bad. But man is for a great deal altogether happy to possess the bad as its guardian spirit, and this is then perhaps merely an honesty before such beings’ perceived self-worth. To be is to value and to attach no special importance to the one entity that one controls, is a good reason to not revolt when subjugated - the mere quantity of force and ingenuity that one as a human being represents may be sufficient to produce a set of privileged hours alone with ones spirit, in the redemptive moment of repose after labor. And since the spirit does simmer dimly on hourly waged labor, not a lot of that vaporous good is required to sustain any possible hunger for being. Man has been commodified, and now the packagin has begun.

Well, this doesn’t surprise me. It’s the sort of scholastic/pedantic assessment he no doubt picked up in part over at Know Thyself. Tell me this isn’t the sort of intellectual contraption that Satyr may well have the patent on.

Again, unless he is only being ironic. In other words, playing this character who is in fact exposing this sort of “serious philosophy” gibberish.

I havent been in knowthyself for… 7 years. Well Ive posted once, some year ago, and didnt come back.

You are a very deluded person, a snikkelesk.

You are not worth any quantity of Parodites’ excrement. Yet, I appreciate that you value his music.

You know, after consulting the stars. :laughing:

Your mean the ‘stars’ I see when I have to pass through the stench of your putrefying mind? :laughing:

No, you fascist filth, you merit no ‘consulting’ whatsoever.

Haha, Lambo is a snikkelesk.

Hmm, let’s get back to this:

The sort of exchange ILP once had an abundance of. Before the Kids and fulminating fanatics took over.

A discussion in which you can note my “putrefying mind” and “fascist filth” in regard to an actual set of circumstances relating to Parodites’s “future of man vs. future of philosopher.”

What substantively, descriptively, normatively etc., might that mean?

The context of the original Youtube exchange, to Iam. who asked for some context concerning it: the context is, some fuckwad said something dumb and I replied to him. Moving on:

“So Parodites, ten years after joining my society, you are finally coming the insight that such a society is required.”

Here’s the thing Fixed, if you thought I had not adequately appreciated that aspect of your thinking, (I did appreciate it, I just differ on what the nature of a philosophic society is. Likewise, I had predicted similar events in the 2010’s, including Trump’s winning at his very announcement of a campaign run. I have predicted exceedingly further into the future as well, many things that have not yet come to pass.) calling me a treacherous fuck (as to the word traitor, such a thing may, to an average person, be a mere insult, but to a philosopher it is more than an insult, because you’re implying my having betrayed my own political and philosophical ideals, and therefor, my higher self) for an insignificant political disagreement with you isn’t the correct way to go about it, nor is doubling down on that unnecessarily assholish tactic after I requested some recognition and an apology. I had never treated you with similar animosity before, and I’ve known you for quite a long time.

However, the nature of such a society is something else, to my mind. Its nature is a ‘non-society’, an ‘ensemble of non-beings’, to borrow the expression of a certain writer. It is constituted by the Negative, by its own absence, not its presence. As I write here:

" The Negative gathers unto itself an ‘ensemble of non-beings’ in a kind of bound transcendence,- pitting, in fact, the bound transcendence of the
Shadow against the unbound transcendence of worldly wisdom glittering monstrous with the identificational images of Law, [James R. Watson,
1994: In the Monstrous Shadow of Worldly Wisdom; From Whence We must Speak.] in whose earthly guise the idols of a new pantheon have
been ushered forth in ‘scientific’ mockery of the Pleroma. Such identificational images, as the final expression of Law and therefor likewise of
Theory, are expressed elsewhere [See Giusseppe Stellardi, 1995. The Death of Philosophy and the Future of Thought; History of European Ideas,
Vol. 20.] as an intuition of “the destiny and central engine of philosophy”, that is, a wish,- on the part of philosophy,- to exhaust itself and finally
die, while being unable to in any way consummate such a deadly wish as spurs it ever onward."

[size=85](The two works I cited above are hard to locate, so I will include the relevant passages:

Stellardi: “Is philosophy finally surrounded… ready to give way to science, technology, marketing, etc.? Is philosophy dying? Perhaps. But what is death? It is possible to believe that philosophy can and even must die, or rather that it intimately requires death, and, still, this would not mean that… it will actually end. I would like to suggest that this movement of controlled suicide, far from being only a little trick in the twentieth-century philosopher’s survival kit, corresponds to the innermost power, resource and justification of theory itself. Often philosophy has shown, and still shows, suicidal tendencies. There is, for instance, the Hegelian death, coinciding with the total accomplishment of System; or the Positivistic suicide, in which philosophy gives finally way to positive science. To state that neither of these two ‘deaths’ has actually managed to put an end to philosophy, is to state the obvious. Less obvious conclusions can result from asking ourselves why those deaths did not work.” …)

Watson: “We have seen faces turning away from one another, but only by the light of the annihilating flames of all-consuming worldly wisdom. The wise ones, with their gods of mockery, have represented everything and everyone- every deed, every utterance- submitting all of it under wisdom’s law- the Law of annihilation and the pure identity of death. Are there today even the slightest indications of possibilities, shimmering horizons for something other than the mocking representations of worldly wisdom? Are there possibilities taking form within the agonizing field of our impossible rebellion against this mimetic nihilism and its incessant rejection of a Law which cannot be represented? Perhaps, a wretched ensemble of non-peoples who, in rebellion against worldly wisdom and its pure identity of death, somehow recognize and affirm each other. here, then, within the shadows facing the event of annihilating thought and its administration are connections and forms of thinking otherwise than worldly wisdom. The bound transcendence of the shadow dwellers is otherwise than the unbound transcendence of worldly wisdom and its easy but deadly identificational images.” )[/size]

That is why, instead of looking to branch out and, as Aurelius said, carve a mask, a public face, with which to form new alliances with living people,- I did and am doing the opposite. I am forming new gaps, discovering new scissure, new absences, creating new gulfs within which to “un-connect” (not disconnect) people, or more precisely, within which to un-connect other philosophers. The ultimate “un-connection” would be thought’s thinking thought’s own impossibility at the precipice of the supra-modern, that is, at my precipice; that would be, citing the two authors above again, the “central engine” of philosophy mobilized by philosophy’s own impossibility.

You invoked the concept of a “speculative ethic” Fixed, as is necessary for many reasons in the formation of a new society, be it of the form you envision or the one I do. This speculative ethic I write of as an ethic that, over the centuries, has been thoroughly lost on the account of a “separation of existential and ethical reality … which thereby becomes an indifference to the world and the question of existence in general”:

" The dissolution of the intuitive and purely intellectual dimensions of inspirited and
contemplative life, of the Delphic “Know Thyself” inscribed upon the heart and the moral
commandments inscribed in the Abrahamic tablets, achieved on the part of transcendental
philosophy, delivers the questioning spirit to a peculiar ossification of a consciousness
previously mobilized by the various life-processes; delivers the questioning spirit to a
hypostasis of this separation of existential and ethical reality which has been achieved
through the mere conviction that it has been achieved- a separation which thereby
becomes an indifference to the world and the question of existence in general that, at first
glance, seems to be situated wholly historically, to be discovered in hindsight to have
existed since before even the production of the Plotinian Enneads, namely as a kind of
non-opposition to which the philosopher is returned by his meditation when it has been
carried over into its furthest bent
- as the ousia or transcendent, pure being. For the man
who has willingly estranged himself from this entire state of affairs, and now would aim
to judge it, it can be said that this backward glance into the philosophical literature in an
attempt to find a justification for the basis of the transcendent, in the attempt to further
delineate the boundary of the Delphic proclamation and the Abrahamic one, is a gesture
which speaks of nothing more tellingly than it speaks of the death-pangs of a tradition
grown hopelessly sterilized and tired. The moment the mone of reflective self-consciousness
and the
epistrophe or inward re-cognisance of the ego in the face of Being,
as is expressed repeatedly in the contemplative traditions, was divorced from the
procession of an external expansion into the ideal series of recollections, to use a Platonic
term, belonging to the epistrophic revelation, the real heart and soul of philosophy had
been stung with the most poisonous barb; this was the moment knowledge began to
degenerate into mere power, that the fiery Delphic lettering began to lapidfy into the
Decalogue, and power began to take itself for knowledge, began to justify itself as
knowledge, as power does so merrily today among the men of science, whose mastery
over the forces of nature is taken as an explanation of nature, and whose purely
descriptive laws are taken as truths.
For my part, I speak to truth in the old, the oldest
sense of truth- therefor, also, in the supra-modern sense."

It is not my own personal death for which I am so obsessed, but death itself. Shored against the ruin of time, I have endeavoured to transubstantiate as much of myself into words and tones, into undying forms, as is possible. But a little is always left behind, a psychic remainder like that which troubled Schelling; the daemon, in whose furious circulus our own Eros were captured and brought back down ceaselessly into the mire of Flesh and Matter, into this obscure passion, a secret instinct Freudo-Lacanian theory names the death-drive; a regressive call back to the inorganic and the perfect requiescence of the un-created. It were a theme served well by the poets, but none could truly mourn- not their own death- but Death itself, as the Philosopher can.

PENSEROSO,
A Poetic Interlude.

1.
Encircled, as when in the ring of flames
the scorpion does plunge into its breast
the fearsome barb: so Time does swallow up
its very potency,
and quaff the dusty glass of life;-
that from whose bitter pharmacy
we had so long abstained to seek
alleviance for all our ills in Death.

Befouled with earth’s o’er-childed mass,
Time’s the rat that nips at the heel of man
which Death drives out, when it does purge
the overrun sullage of generation
from which it feeds- and gives us peace. 1
Speak of the dead’s justice, or their virtue,
for the living but drain their cup of life,
their philosophy unmade in heaven,
their deepest moral were mere confession.

Immortal longings ingress upon the mortal heart,
to comprehension’s failure; till life’s ailing flood
bank at heaven’s shores. Save for life and death,
all can be forgiven. The soul still further mounts,
that all life’s seeming seems to fly as we do seek
its current prodding ceaseless, thus to smooth
the pebble-soul of love and loss in quiet deep.

The fevered heart does anguished keep,
when pleasure’s secret lies still undiscovered.

Thus yearning immortal does itself beseech
the ever-bearing thought of the eternal;
thus strange presage our soul makes ere we do sleep
with device of symbol, thus to announce,
amidst our youth, high case of love and crime,
and war, which age but does allegorize,
that all the world’s show is cast upon,
and like trembling stars in the pale waters
whose light wavers with the dithering wind;
the whole plethory of man is list upon,
his passions vincible, and kingdom’s pomp,
his love, all the glory of his raving tribe,
and bend all the more, the more gently urged
with the quiet thoughts of death,
and these thoughts wandering, still onward plod
unto the dim clime of high philosophy;
till’ love and pain, hope, and ambition’s lost,
amidst the wreck of time and sense,
for changed, they are what they were not. 2

Thus the beasts plod on, who upon their course
find neither love nor hope, and no remorse,
while man, in all-comprehending avarice complains
that fearsome war did not secure his name,
nor brazen monument did mark his progeny.

For with the earth, thy sacrificial fire,
equally is prepared the first-born of man,
the high cast of the world’s infancy;
the melancholy ocean, whose intimation
of mute age, and endless time do pierce
the brooding soul; statesmen just and mighty,
young beauty, with all her fledgling virtue;
the ruined column of the stony earth,
whose prized mountains crumble, the golden sun
and his companion stars, grown pale with time;
kings, princes, learned men and benefactor- all
without distinction perish thus to feed
that all-embracing fire, nor with pride
the nobler lot to shame the commoner,
but with the only justice known in heaven
or on earth, to bend and pass, that others
in their stead may do the same. 3

Till in the strange accent of recorded time
our favorite phantom 4 cleaves the rounded way
to dusty death, 5 into the long twilight
the murmuring steep of years rolls onward,
into that plaintive vale the living sweep
o’er like shadows. Till light dispel us;
the living, but the first born of the dead,
of clodden field, immense of empyrean,
and puissant sun. Thus we live;
the bitter will mock, while the somber weep,
while bud of Sephalica, or aliment
make of Lotus flower, the soft-hearted
shall glory in the temple of the flesh;
those whose yearning were braced upon a flower’s head.

Though who could endure but that single tear,
if not to fall? Yielding upon the heart,
in what peerless bower oft taken solitary witness,
ere we read the weight of things: its beauty is its descent.
For the beauty that cannot be endured kindly spares us
the grief of all we could endure.

It is but our thoughts, that are the ages
of our life, by which we do measure out
passion horary, till action’s stifled
that no moment but could be filled by it,
and the brim of life spills to indiscretion.
Life’s but a nascent sun, 6 that illumines
the shadowed dream; and this light we share,
the world, and but all we know of it,
till we pall of knowing. Then thy image
is undone, in the first morning of the world,
left nothing of its memory to the blear seas
as yawn wearily over their wasted kingdoms,
nor any of the Houses, and darkness
only is the universe. 7

The margin of thy subtle frame is lost;
by a flower’s root thy cast is broken,
and by a drop of rain thy human pride
discovered. Survey the earth, thy great tomb:
this dust in which you shall be laid
which itself once lived and breathed;
or suffered, rejoiced, and prayed,
yet no more weeps, or laughs, or bleeds.
So form, but with thy human speech,–
mere hissing sputum in thy chest,–
a word to cast upon the coruscant sea;
search thy soul’s deepest ecstasy,
and from thy mortal conceit thus confess,
to name all this choiring beauty
of the world- death.

  1. Francis Thompson: “In a little peace…”
    "Death, that doth flush
    the cumbered gutters of humanity…
    "
  2. An adaptation of Propertius.
  3. Emerson.
  4. “Favorite phantom” , Bryant, Thanatopsis.
  5. Dusty Death, phrase in Macbeth.
  6. Browne: We live by an invisible sun within us.
  7. Byron: “… And darkness was the universe.”
  8. Play on Yeats:
    Crying amid the glittering sea,
    Naming it with the ecstatic breath,
    Because it had such dignity,
    By the sweet name of Death.

“Again, unless he is only being ironic. In other words, playing this character who is in fact exposing this sort of “serious philosophy” gibberish.”

Satyr can only be ironic or serious. I, however, am meta-ironic. My most convoluted ontological treatise slash gnostic cryptotheological sermons slash mythopoetics slash kabbalistic digressions slash slash slash slash … is so much of an irony of irony, and therefor quite serious. But also not serious. But the fact that they’re not serious is what makes them serious and is serious about them, except that … "

" The central engine of philosophy mobilized by philosophy’s own impossibility": that would be the great irony, the irony of irony, the meta-irony about which I have been speaking.

As far as my TOE: I don’t have or want a Theory of Everything. I have a theory of theory. The philosopher does not look outward, only inward; the philosopher extends himself and the seed-shukra of his secret Thought into a genuine [b]kshanikavada /b like widening ripples across a quiet body of water grown cold and still, living his life in progressively more comprehensive circles. The great philosopher finds himself within a circle large enough to encompass all reality. It is beneath him to explain things, that is for mere scientists. Hell, even mathematicians do not stoop so low as to ‘explain’ things, well at least pure mathematicians, or those invested in the kind of stuff I’m interested in like information-theory, Teichmuller theory and Heyting algebra.

That is exactly what I am implying, because I believe it, which is why I have actually gone so far as to insult you. My thinking it and being silent asbout it is more of an insult to philosophy than is my speaking out on it, for at least in this way there is some honestly involved.

You see this disagreement as insignificant?
That is absurd.

In any case, it follows years of noticing more and more that you dont really read very thoroughly the things Ive written to you, which, from someone as intelligent as yourself is a profound insult.
Your absurdly anti patriotic stance in this whole situation just was the drop that spilled the bucket.
Capable’s cowardly departure, following his deceitful accusations, also contributed.

Im not, to my mind, the one who began being disrespectful. And when I acted in anger, I at least did so honestly, without subterfuge.
That is I suppose my way of still respecting you, or at least, respecting the position you used to hold in my mind.

You are taking me for someone who is beguiled and bedeviled by such profundities, not even realizing that my completion-destruction of western metaphysics by the creation of my logic is the supreme one of all those deaths, and the final one.

This has absolutely nothing to do with political positions.

Nietzsche’s will to power theory is foremost a theory of theory (Willing to Power is Interpreting); and naturally without first theorizing theory, one cant very well make philosophic propositions. They would just be arbitrary edifices on a swamp of arbitrary assumptions.

Operating on the theory of theory, honing it, and probing its potential, I birthed the most coveted thing any thinker has ever birthed. No thinker probably even had the ambition of finding something as powerful as what I produced. Very few people here understand the ramifications.

To explain anything using this logic takes a rare mind. I can explain peoples lives to them, give them their happiness on a platter, I can solve chaos theoretical mathematical problems, I can solve cosmogenetic paradoxes, but that is not the point. The point is that I have terminated metaphysics as such and brought philosophy into the realm of reality, where it now truly rules mathematics (as in being capable of birthing it from nothing), physics, and all the sciences. As for technology, you could quite conveniently use VO to create life, for example, and even more easily to create ‘living’ code.

But that, again, is not the reason I produced it. Obviously I wasn’t out the produce anything, I was just honing my thinking, as Ive always been doing, when I figured it out. The only reason one could find for this is that this final truth of truth found through me a mind deep and experienced enough to take root.

Since I am a philosopher and not a scientist or otherwise career hunting person, Ive not published anything except online and allowed the logic to find its own path. It is my child, but also the capstone of the whole of western thinking. Whoever values this logic the most has the most rights to it, as I see it. Naturally this meant that no civilians were lining up and only parties with something to gain and lose took interest in it. Which is as it would be, thus as it should be.

So you might say the logic has found its own way to create a society, and indeed, one marked very much by its own (apparent) absence. I disclosed the most natural part of the mind, that part in which it is equal to Being, its root and ground - and nature likes to hide. In plain sight, preferably. Well that is really the only place it has to hide.

I may publish a book, at one point. But the most important work was seeding the logic throughout the internet, so that it takes on a life of its own, much like an AI - producing a new species of thinkers, of men, without any central organization - just a method.

I am the whole world - that is the outset. That is why one becomes, or discovers that one is, a philosopher in the first place.

Everything always was so easy for me that it was nauseating - not all techniques in the world, but all great models and theorems. I could always see through them without much effort, if any - most philosophic and scientific theorems are things I had gone through before I reached puberty. The first problematic thing I encountered was simply the fact of representative thinking, the fact that it can never attain truth without usurping it and thereby upending it, making it a triviality, a snowflake in the storms of chaos. Things may adhere to it but it may not command reality. It is this problem which I resolved; I deleted the dichotomy of pure metaphysics vs direct empirical reality; both empirical reality and metaphysics had before that moment been insufficient to the truth which my spirit demands. Because they were separater from one another while evidently being the same thing, if they existed at all. The separateness of theory and practice is not real. Either the practice is chaotic or it is method, and either theory is real or false. That is to say, ultimately chaos must be the true method, and method must be at the heart of chaos. “Heart of chaos” is of course a contradiction, and yet it is where the thought of thought resides, as does the being of being, the essence of essence, the spirit of spirit, the strength of strength, the integrity of integrity; the structure of structure first births chaos, then by chaos the possibility and thence ‘need’ of order are produced, as chaos is the negation of the pure infinite, places the infinite within time - chaos here in the modern, mathematical sense, not in the ‘gaping chasm’ of the Greeks and Vikings; not as a phenomenological picture of what comes before order, but as the active antithesis of order, that which doesn’t allow order to be derived from it by order - that which will impose on orders its pure vitality and disrupts them, Dionysos essentially. Chaos as pure vitality. At the core of this is the logic that orders; chaos is what orders, or rather it is the means of the ordering heart. Ordering is not its purpose, it is merely the result of its positive existence. Any order that exists is a negation of this chaos, thereby its proof. In as far as it is exulted as proof, it corresponds to the principle that lies at the heart of chaos in the modern sense, whereas it springs forth from chaos in the Greek sense; namely, from nonbeing. It is thus (this principle) being nor non being - thus being which isn’t negated by nonbeing but necessitated by it. All this comes down to our human nature, as it comes down to any nature; it imposes itself on our nature as our nature, but we aren’t this nature but a product of this nature, and we ‘have’ this nature but we do not command it, unless we undertake something quite remarkable and rare, it has been called philosophy. The closer you get to real existence the closer you get to nothingness, and on the brink there is an anvil. I placed it there.

Having placed this anvil there I could only begin to forge myself. Destroy, and forge from the raw materials. That is what I have been doing in the alliance, society, - that this also broke apart is no surprise, in fact a necessity, but my protests against it are as much as necessity; to hide valuation is the cardinal falsity, on which much of our world relies. Game theory is the ultimate consequence of hiding valuation; VO is the cosmic response to the short-circuited reptile brain, allowing the pure frenzy of sub-animal being into a cool universal rule, through which a spontaneous architecture commences to define itself. Nothing is imposed on anything - rather the removal of imposition imposes the individual nature on itself, and this results in a world destroying violence in the soul and a sleek ordering instinct in the world, so that the soul in its proper infinity can begin to rebirth itself as a phenomenon. This bringing into the world of being qua humanity is a task that lies beyond metaphysics, that is to say beyond western philosophy proper, the history from Parmenides, Heraclitus onward, the project of thinking consistency. Nietzsche refers to the Artist Tyrant and Philosopher of Power as the successors to this tradition; workmen essentially, sculptors and architects and butchers and salesmen but mostly, animals. Animals of cosmic might, rather than super-apes ravaging a planet by knowing how to consistently follow through on brutal falsities which come to rule as truth-holders. In which only very slavish truths can endure, be endured. That is the separation of world and logic, slavishness. And the hardest task of philosophy isn’t more complicated than trying to come up with a form of logic that doesn’t create a division between it and the world.

An anvil at the brink, cloaked in cold vapors from the abyss, this is where I stand and I am surprised when people as I call out to “bring your hammer and lets get to work” dont come running. I best be sending out some sparks. See what they do to the mist.

Value Ontology
Nietzsche
Astrology
The old gods

And now an anvil.

I would be willing to explore them all with him given a particular set of circumstances in which the focus revolves more around the existential relationship between morality here and now and immortality there and then. My own “thing” here. Given the components of my own philosophy.

The future of men vs. the future of philosophers at that juncture.

" You see this disagreement as insignificant?
That is absurd." – The asswhipe above, circa 2021, April 8th.

The disagreement about Trump still magically being the president? What disagreement? I don’t even know what we’re disagreeing about, you’re just being a fucking asshole. It started the second I was making fun of Al Sharpton’s fingers and you called me, un-ironically, a racist. At that moment I perceived the unmistakable shit-smelling ‘miasma’ of psychological projection, which I’ve grown more accustomed to than I’d like, given the fact that the whole world is permeated in it. I also grow tired of having to repeat over and over and over points that people are apparently not able to respond to. (FYI. the inability to form a retort means you lost.) In the thread concerning this more specifically, I laid out to you that, even if Biden had illegitimately garnered his influx of apparently late, mostly mailed-in, votes,- and, even if this fact were to be conclusively proven, (which would require many years of debate, of course working up through the court system from state level to eventually the national level, a. la. the Supreme Court-- a process that would take more years to complete than Biden’s presidency has left on the table, even if he’s re-elected four years from now) the Electoral College has still ratified his (Biden’s) presidency such that, given the fact that Trump’s four-year long term has ended, we find ourselves with absolutely no constitutional or legislative devices by which to somehow overturn Biden’s victory at this point (even following the very moment he was confirmed by the Electors) and re-instate Trump. His four year term ended; the College did not re-elect him; Biden was sworn in. He’s not the president. You disagree and, faced with my analysis and arguments, simply ducked out because you had no response to it. You keep calling me un-patriotic for this, for simply not recognizing some absurd idea that all of this is part of Trump’s 4-d chess strategy and he’s going to draw the deep-state into the open so he can swoop in at the last moment, fuckin’ anime style, and set the whole world straight. Fuck off. This shit is a god damn comedy sketch.

I can boast too, since that’s about all you did in your response. But we will get to that in a second. First, let’s have a recap. All you’ve done is assert that you’ve honed the WtP as a theory of theory. Yeah, well, that theory of theory doesn’t actually exist anywhere. Whereas, behind all of my boasting, there’s ten 500-page volumes of edited, revised, and fully formatted text. Because I renounced all other things and did nothing but work on it for the last 16 years, rotting in isolation without any thought for something more. And half of it’s in small print as footnotes, so maybe double that amount. (Add to that my volumes on original contributions to music theory and, well, you know: more than one-hundred 500-page volumes of raw sheet-music, spanning ten volumes of etudes alone, 67 half hour to one-hour long concertos and 25 hour-and-a-half long symphonies.) So yes, all you’ve done is assert you’ve honed the WtP into a theory of theory that somehow accounts for everything I just said, even though there’s no evidence of you ever even implying it,-- (in your words, somehow you’ve put forward the ideas I just did ‘silently’) that, and one other thing: pushed away, insulted, and blown up all of your friendships for literally no reason. (Like I said, before this apparent breakdown of yours, I had never treated you with any kind of animosity.) So yes, I suppose you have accomplished that, these two things: demanding praise and blowing up all your friendships for no reason. Good job, man.

I am self-absorbed, yes; I’d have to be, since all I have in this room is myself. I boast; (though I do have what is needed to back my boasting up) I love Parodites more than all others- to be sure. But I have never demanded that someone else recognize something about me. – I have never demanded that someone love Parodites as I love Parodites.-- And I value friendship; like I said, I never insulted you in all this time,- ten years about,- or treated you with animosity of any sort. You just jumped on me one day and didn’t relent. You kept doubling-down, in fact. I don’t know what you feel you have to prove, but you’re only trying to prove it to yourself, and nothing I say is going to help you with that; proving whatever-it-is to yourself. That is on you.

Fucking get some perspective and grow up. I’m not even wasted yet, (well, I haven’t got blasted for the third time today, according to my devoted habitus; the other two attacks, as Presley called them, have worn off, but I’m working on it.) so I took it easy on you. Beware though, because I’ll be doped and drunk soon, and without the few reservations my half-sober self possesses.

I’m composing, and was rather enjoying myself with it; don’t make me get up again. I was grooving on some quintal harmonies. Or go ahead and keep being a fucking dickface, see where that gets you. I haven’t even opened this website in days, or was it weeks? Take the great spans of time in between my appearances as how little I give a fuck or think you have any leg to stand on in this. You’re being a cunt. There’s no philosophical or even merely political disagreement here. It’s just you being a cunt. So, because I might not want to sully or tax any of my exceptional cortical brain-tissue on thinking about such a thing, I’d hope you might understand why I’d focus on some of the other things I have to attend to.

Yeah, look at that, nothing. I do thank you (everyone) for not making me leave my piano though. Not that I would have anyway, as I didn’t login to this site in the last 48 hours. Been too busy blasting God down my veins and jammin on the keys for that shit. Fucking internet forums. Bunch of faggots.

I don’t mean to neglect an estimation of your value; [Fixed] I recognize the value of your own work and that of many others of both the past and the present. (And the future. I’ m possessed by chronodemons, so yeahhhhh. I already know what those who come after me will bring to the table, as I know what you might reply to me with. Not just in this universe: in all of them.) However, I do not recognize your having achieved a theory of theory, which would be a theory of everything. Because I do not recognize the existence of such a thing, even in-potentia.

As to political disagreements, I still am of the opinion that you haven’t voiced any disagreements with me, not really; you’re just being a cunt for no reason. (There’s always a reason.) Fuck the parenthesis, the reason is because you desperately need a reason to express animosity toward me in order to more firmly differentiate yourself. Read what I say here in regard to Harman’s account of epistemological withdraw and the telescoping of essences; differentiation is the least of your or anyone else’s worries. Everything is hopelessly differentiated, and removed from any possibility of relationship. Or why don’t you try not being a human being like me, then you won’t care about any of this shit and the world will pass you by like a bad dream. Fuck it. Fuck it to death. What even is this shit? Body, time, flesh, death. Ugh. It’s become so alien to me at this point. Makes me nauseous even thinking about any of it.

But as to the impossibility of a theory of theory. (The impossibility of Relationship is comparatively a jerk-off. That is to say, not important) What I will say now should be added to what I said earlier, in the text in which I mentioned Stellardi.

A theory of theory,- a philosophy of philosophy,- a ‘theory of everything’, cannot formally exist, because Theory [Philosophy] cannot account for its own Negativity, that is, for its own negation, which would be ‘pure negation’- that Negativity which cannot be accounted for through Theory or ‘absorbed’ by the strictures of System, in Bataille’s formula,- or the ‘secret of consciousness’ as appercepted by the schema through transcendental synthesis, which Kant claimed existed only in the depths of the soul, rent fatally beyond the veil of the Dialectic. This is the nature of Bataillean violence: the fundamental scissure of Discourse. Thus when we point the dialectic against itself,- when we work out a dialectic of the dialectic,- as Kierkegaard ironically recapitulated the Hegelian philosophy, we achieve what Kierkegaard called the ‘paradox’ (what Plato called the ‘aporia’) as an engine of thought, while similarly, when we invert the dialectic, as Marx did, we initiate a process of de-construction by which all concepts are dissolved into elementary fragments of material-history and reduced to a singular quanta of Force a la. the Will to Power. As the Hegelian thought builds up, within the movement of Geist, the Babel-tower of positive knowledge toward the Absolute, so the Marxist dialectic deconstructs System and descends toward a bare materiality, within whose conflux of elementary forces the image of Utopia has been hopelessly distorted. A reductio ad absurdum of the categorical Negation occurs as well, when we attempt to circumscribe a dialectic of the dialectic, leading to Baidou’s ‘bad infinity’ and Bataille’s un-absorbed Negative as an accumulation of those entropic stresses upon the system of Capital produced by the flow of material-history, to again return to the Marxist formula. This reduction was precisely the meaning of ‘Death’ in Heidegger’s account of Being. Heidegger sought in fact to fully explicate Dasein’s opening toward Death by bearing the Negative to its implicated reductio ad absurdum, (this titanic struggle was his project of de-struktion) peering beyond the veil of History through a kind of ontological black-hole compressed within the folds of Aryan racial history, whose event-horizon had trapped the European soul within the inescapable orbit of Capital, Modernity, the image of Techne(ology) and the merely ontic, that is, the metaphysical Presence of ousia’s Absence. The inability of Theory to account for its own Negation leads to what I have named ‘mimetic hyperinflation’, while the subversion of mimesis appearances as a consequence of the perfection of techne as a hypermnemata, in whose image the direction of human history has been deterministically bent.

As Theory cannot circumscribe its own Negation, so neither can Theory circumscribe its own Essence,- it’s positivity or Affirmation. Harman’s account of hyperobjects lies in the notion of epistemological withdrawal. The contingent sensual qualities of an object, as available to our senses, do not modulate the essence of the object, such that objects can only enter into relationship with one another on the level of the sensual, whose ontological gaps can therefor never be reconstructed within the fabric of the symbolic. Objects thus contain a haunting core unavailable to the absorptive grasp of System, by which relationships are capacitated and governed. The problem is that, through the formation of perceptive relationships between objects, new objects are created, which it turn telescope hidden essences of their own, further miring System in the kind of entropic stresses about which Bataille was so concerned. Here we all find negation as a driving force in the ‘engine of thought’, though one potentially destructive in its ‘unrestrained mimesis’ of essences. Theory, when attempting to fathom its own hidden essence through the fabric of relationships available to it on the part of whichever System theory has chosen to operate under, cannot help but effloresce from out of its own confabulations ever new multiplicities of impossible essences, whose veil renders Theory’s own essence progressively more and more unreadable. All such networks of explosive essences exceed the limits of the singular human ego, such that, when perceived as relational complexes undulating or ‘phasing’ in and out of our own local Real from a higher-dimensional vantage, we might regard them as hyperobjects.

Lovecraft’s mythos is a mythos of hyperobjects.

Because it is impossible to explore Theory’s own Negation and the Hyperobject from whose local manifestation (lower-dimensional projection) ‘philosophy’ is produced hologrammatically, one must turn to more occult devices, like hyperstitial carriers, or what the ancients called ‘paredroi’.

The hyperstitial carrier is, in essence, a machinic autoproductivity (a cybernetic intelligence) of Thought’s own thermodynamic trend,- a realization of the fatal neurodynamic trajectory of consciousness conceived purely as a diabatic process sustained by negentropic biological systems which, operating upon a minimal threshold-libido beyond which the human ego can no longer maintain the integrity of the psychic infrastructure at a survivable equilibrium between the excesses of unregulated (un-conscious energies not yet incorporated by the ego) libidinous affect and the inescapable call of the regressive death-instinct (only more painfully evoked by the accumulating entropic stresses produced by Thought’s synthetic apperception upon the ontological fabric overlaid with the ‘Spectral Real’) are thus incapable of bringing thought to those (potentially destructive) heights for whose exploration the carrier alone is adequately equipped and for whose fulfillment no philosophical trickery or leap of inspired dialectical synthesis might be hopefully staked. Such ‘entropic stresses’ and irreducible intervals are, through carriers, converted into chronodemonological counter-intelligences (anti-consciousnesses) whose agency functions external to any human operator.

I would delineate a few important distinctions, namely three different classes of beings belonging to the Gnostic aionios, and three classes of ‘Transyuggothic’ demons, of whose order chronodemons are one of a few.

The first brush-strokes of Ouranos and Pandemos had precipitated, as initial outpourings of Phanes’ (the true ‘silent’ god in Gnostic myth, whose perfection the lesser demiurge mere imitates by creating our world) new Multiplicity, an endless number of beings. Only a limited number of such Beings survived the first period of Uranian time to become constitutive elements of our Universe, (these elementals are what the Enochian system calls the Angels.) in which the divine perichoreia stabilized itself. It was the initial intent of Phanes that all such Beings would pass as moment-universes within the Godhead, serving as mechanisms by which Phanes could come to know himself, producing and perfecting consciousness, to then dissipate in his return to Unity. However, regardless of one explaining such occult anomalies by way of the Gnostic myth of fallen aeons, or some other design, the fact remains that not all of these beings ‘died’, such that the Pandemaic expression of the Bythos produced a new emanation,- one in which the rebellious entities could be dissolved. This is what we call ‘time’,- a dynamic time, as opposed to the Uranian one. This took the form of the syzygies. The surviving beings would liberate their own ennoea to a male or female counterpart, (this new generation of beings are what we call Aeons, as opposed to Enochian angels) with these cycles of pairing within the Godhead expressing, dynamically, the will of Phanes. Once again, now an even more limited number of Beings, taking after the first to fall- Sophia, refused to liberate their Ennoea, falling into matter below the infernal Nadir, the Shadow * , therefor becoming “Archons.” What is the Nadir? Well, that is quintessentially ‘apocalyptic gnosticism.’

[size=85]* The shadow, the empty center of the divine emanation from the syzygies or ‘ectromaton’, is, in other contexts, referred to in terms of the mystery of the ‘pool of Diana’ upon whose face Yaldabaoth had, wandering from the other Aeons and having too long strayed from his source in the Godhead, gazed upon in isolation, until,- his thoughts having been colored by solitude, individuality, and ego,- as were those of Narcissus, who also could not help but gaze into the very same pool of trembling water,- he found himself deceived by Sophia, who had come forth to reveal to him, reflected in the pool, the image of the creative Fire (heralded by the Zoroastreans) wielded by God alone,- the holy source of the ennoea,- which she convinced him was a reflection of himself and about which she freely offered her mentorship (as to the task of properly wielding it) in exchange for his devotions in preparing for her, as the first work of his creative deed, the mortal world within which she sought to entrap the ennoea in the form of inhabited human bodies and other such organic systems, though it were such a thing as she herself did not, and could not, posses. The loss Yaldabaoth suffered in bringing about the creation of Matter, that is, our fallen Paradise,- namely of his original divine form or ‘firery soma’,- constituted a kind of ‘death’, as is depicted in the image of the Gnostic angel losing his wings as he burnt up in the descent toward Earth, though he also formed thereby what Blake calls the ‘nadir’,- an infernal plane within which the mind of Man and the primary-nous,- in whose order the ennoea is directed and apportioned to each Aeon in their respective emanation of male and female pairings,- (syzygies) make contact through what Numenius called the autoagathon, that is, in a momentary transcendence (the extension of the seed-shukra of one’s wisdom-lineage into a transkarmic moment-universe or kshanikavada, as related to us by the cosmogonic munikava) beyond the circle of the karmic aeon (the ‘eternal recurrence’) within which Sophia had ensnared so hopelessly the greater lot of man, and therefor the greater portion of the ennoea. The formation of this nadir,- an opening beyond the Recurrence and the Karma Age through which the human mind generates artistic inspiration, imagination, ‘yesodic dream-images of the divine unconscious’, and the truly ‘new’,- was doubtlessly a central element in Yaldabaoth’s greater designs toward the fulfillment of the Godhead, consciousness, [inasmuch as Phanes sought only to achieve self-reflection by dividing himself into a multiplicity that became the ‘aeons’, for only then could aspects of himself be separated (through the medium of the Bythos) and therefor compared to and placed into opposition with one another, (through the medium of ‘Time’) or in any case, brought into relationship with one another,- a process we call simply ‘consciousness’] and thus, ultimately, the perfection of the ennoea itself.

Blake’s mythos more properly constitutes an ecstatic vision of ‘apocalyptic gnosis’. Accordingly, it would be worthwhile to draw out the placement of all four of the Zoas in the present context. Luvah is most closely related to Cronus, for, as Zeus killed Cronus and used the Phanic aedion he carried to create the universe, so Urizen melts down the body of Luvah and uses it to create the Blakean universe. Urthona-Los is related to Yaldabaoth while Urizen recalls Sophia, for Sophia turned away from the syzygies and the protennoea just as Urizen turned away from eternity and the eternals. Tharmas is related to Saturnal time,- Saturn, which is connected to the Byth as Tharmas is connected to the specter of Eternal Death.

The Aeons who refused to liberate their ennoea to their syzygetic pair thus ‘fell’ and became what we know of as archons, like Sophia and Yaldabaoth. These Aeons refused, in essence, to allow their individuality to be extinguished (through the Byth) within the unfolding of the dynamic God-head, as was the original intent of Phanes. Matter eventually became the prison within which this individuality is desperately preserved and the war is staked against the distant, true God by the Archons and their lesser offspring, eg. Lemurian chronodemons. Archons are preserved as identities through hyperstitive carriers, or external forms,- identificational images (paredroi) in which they regulate their appearance in the World and in History. The ‘carrier’ is a fully subtractive, (ie. ‘anti-consciousness’) non-dialectical, asynthetic process whereby Thought works out toward its own thermodynamic equilibrium, (similar to the function of Spare’s deah-posture) most of the time only leading to the failure to maintain individuality and thus the termination of any consciousness attempting to use a paredroi/image to bind a particular archon (demonic entity) to a particular task, as the magician endeavors to accomplish,- however, extremely powerful paredroi/images (hypnonibbanic dream-images of the divine unconscious) permit an archontic being to cross over the threshold of the fictive and the Real,- a threshold constituting the liminal space of the rupture of the Real,- an ontological blackhole aborting the synthetic (as opposed to subtractive) apprerception of the human, finite subject/ego,- such that, in this crossing, memeto-magickal effects can be achieved. [/size]

Chronodemons are irreducible distances within the spectral overlay (across the Nadir) between the infernal plane (the Real) and the symbolic fabric constituted by transcendental synthesis. (‘consciousness’)

Amphidemons are stranger still: the dissipation of the original multitudes reft from Phanes as Multiplicity, which were infinite in number, left behind traces of their absence upon the structure of matter,- a kind of divine imprint noted in Lurianic kabbalah, with some of these traces being significant enough to form ruptures in the spectral overlay from which energetic disturbances emanate demonic presences. The universe began and ended already in Uranian time, and crucially, the world beheld within Uranian time does not match up perfectly with the world completed in Saturnal (bythic) time, such that there are certain rare events in which the mismatch crystallizes in a singular moment whose resolution cannot be clearly determined. Such events and moments are opened up to the influence of amphidemons.

What about the CCRU’s third classification of demon? The xenodemon. The true transyuggothic entitities. Well, let’s get into dracopoeisis. Dracopoiesis, or the Carving of Dragons: The Philosopher as mimetico-cultic Dragon-Slayer.

Xenodemons are stranger still. Their essence is in the notion of the Mortonian hyperobject, which cannot be apprehended by a singular human ego and requires either the concentrated effort of an entire culture in order to be perceived, or a non-local manifestation enabled by a successful carrier working beyond the thermodynamic maxima of the singular human ego. As the essence of the chronodemon is an irreducible interval or distance, so the essence of the xenodemon is extension and vastitude of dimension. As a planet generates spacetime vortices and traps lesser objects into orbits around it, so hyperobjects cause ontological distortions in the symbolic fabric overlaid with the Real, as is explored by those working under the theory of Speculative Realism, like Morton. The chronodemon exists through irreducible distances or ruptures in this fabric, in periods of disconnection and machinic autoproduction operating at a microscopic level, while the xenodemon exists in connections whose macroscopic extension across the fabric surpasses the limits of single human egos. Buddhist scripture refers to xenodemons as ‘dragons’; (similarly, dragons are used in Europe to mark the terminus of known territory on maps) crucially, they can be killed as well as created by tearing apart or generating extensive connections in man’s body of knowledge, ie. the fabric. The creation of a dragon is another form of mimetic warfare quite distinct from chronosorcery, and has been undertaken by certain races and cultures. Of course, one of the more prominent examples of such ‘dragons’ would be the Luciferic serpent, which also marks a cartographic terminus at the Fall of Man as an event beyond any one human’s circumspection, or the earlier draconic element present in Orphic mystery-religion, that is, the omnipresent serpent coiled both around the cosmic egg before the creation of the World and that around the body of Yaldabaoth. Think even of the related Urobour, the dragon as a symbol for Infinity and Eternity, or a quintessential extension beyond the human scale. The process of creating such dragons: dracopoiesis. AI and the Singularity are modern dragons. Such dragons also constitute hyperobjects.

Anyway, I’m going back to my piano NIGGAZ.