Igor rose and fell, rose and fell, he was the wav and he slept on the hay wagon as it ploughed through the day, donkeys sweating in their pouches, trails knackering the ingrings, the heathwuckles and sabernacs. Suddenly Igor awakened to find a purple Sun had radiated on him like a well bred dog pisses on a dry bone. Igor found it hard to be insulted.
Now he slept again and dreamed of awakeness. He was a frog in a cave of cascading water.
“Oh, how I do so love this newly-found form of mine” thought Igor. "I think that I shall keep it for a little while. But why am I slipping around so much? Ah, the good life - to be hanging on this nice cool rock all stretched out and it is such a nice kind of green. Never ever have I seen such a luminous green.
This is MY rock.
Oh, but how do I keep from awakening!
Igor leaped into his soul and went to the supermarket where he got the ingredients. A whole cart full of good stuff, the best! Igor was practically salivating over his purchases after he had paid for them and was stacking them all into his van. He drove off with a big grin. “Im ready now!” he sneered to the sky.
When he had stocked his kitchen, garage, deep double walled bedroom closet, cellar, pigeon roof den and underground hideout, he went to stock the outhouse and the peripheral wells. Most of the wells had hidden cavelike compartments which could be reached with a rope. If one were to find oneself in such a compartment cave and someone else would untie the rope from above, one would be fucked. So Igor rarely set foot anymore in these compartments, even though some of the best treasure was stashed there. Now though, with the new goods, he gave himself some time to sit and enjoy one of these places, smoke a cigarette, think. He thought long and hard and it was pleasant. Then he climbed back up the pit wall and into the Sun.
Now, all was ready. Igor got his 4x4 Subaru out and drove East, to pick up Magteld, the great witch.
Aha, that’s Magteld he thought , but soon. Enuff found that it was Hide. flying in refreshed , his 4X5 readily refurbished, as the clock 12 midnight steadily harangued.
Hello Igor he said as the latter caught by surprise , taken back into the shadows by whisps of tornadoes like furies. They challenged him with a chorus of magnificat.
Upon hearing this, dragula, fell to greet Igor as igor praised the vampire, and wished him good journey , resolutely, churning now desire , but neither inviting the consequentially expected rebuff.
Igor then said in humoresqie tedium:
" Master, welcome back to my humbled.abode, and chrisalda will soon appear posing within apoplexia.
Magteld screeched upon hearing this, and flew into the next world, where again, he approached Sofia with tender care and comfort.
Hunyadi was long gone , missing centuries, and missed by multitudes perched on a barren mountain top.
The I’m recalled the last sight of the greatest Sultan, and swords clicking to the erorythmical beat of the dripping sword.
Igor: at last says, “Master…” As the double heads of St.John&Medusa fell by the wayside , foreshadowing the revolution…
Immediately upon arrival Igor had planted his seed in the surface of the red planet as supposedly it’ll grow a clone after 12 summers. Magteld was teaching him rapidly. She was taking a bath with blood, a bloodbath as she aptly called it, and the froth on the foam of it was purple as Caesars robe and glistened in the faint sunlight that came through the windows overlooking the Valley of Hundreds, where the first battle had been waged Mano a Mano in low gravity.
Igor approached her skeptically as the musky smell made him a bit faint to be fair, and Magteld ridiculed him with her pale blue eyes. Slowly Igor disrobed and his muscular torso ended Magtelds ridicule and what came next made her moan and forget about ironies.
Igor had however not forgotten the bloody, blood. He was now supposed to make love to Magteld in this bloodbath? It seemed … bad.
Dont you wanna just go out for a steak or a burger and fuck in the car? He asked. Angrily, Magteld splashed the blood and it smeared his face.
You will get into this tub with me! She ordered.
Igor took a deep breath and complied.
Its kept exactly at 37 degrees celsius, Magteld confided.
At what point does blood actually boil? Igor inquired, but Magteld did not think it as serious a question as Igor had intended it, as he was a fiend for hot baths.
He sat down into the fluid and winced. Magteld touched his nose with a bloody finger and cooed.
Igor found this all very strange, and he feared it was all about to get a lot stranger.
After, Igor swum in the river for four hours. He went down under water for two minutes straight a few times, and in the end he sort of felt he had gotten the blood off of him. The fact that it had been elephant blood made it both better and worse, mostly a bit better though because it was at least noble blood. Connubinating in pigs blood would have destroyed his soul, probably.
The river whispered, when he got out but Igor decided he didn’t hear anything. He went home where his wife was waiting with a pork roast.
Igor had a laughing spell with the laudanum-sulfur-cocaine capsule in him, and he retrieved his glad spirits and returned, it was night now, to the river. He asked: river, you said something to me the other day, was it this day?
Te river rustled, as to confirmed it had been indeed, and Igor stepped in and let himself sink into the stream and floated along with it a while like a log of wood, tumbling with the current, slowly understanding.
When he got out he was seven miles downstream and realized he has brought his wallet with a lot of paper money in it. He decided not to look and look at the stars instead.
Looking up after the sky had cleared, the trees in the dark dripping, their thirst only partially quenched, Igor was faintly aware of someone staring back at him. His eye shifted and fell on a bright red star in the North. Hello, Igor uttered before he knew it, and a gust of wind shook loose a cool mist from the trees which enveloped him in a damp shroud, and Igor saw silver and light dancing and, characters appeared out of them. Igor arranged them instinctively into the name he knew was now his own.
Igor went inside and drank his tea. Much was changed. but you would not know it.
Igor, unbeknownst to himself, was in possession of a tiger. Somewhere in a train wagon, it was located en-route, on its way to Igor through very dank material; Earth. Or Erf as the dank says, the one eyed, the the tree full of ravens, the origin, the plateau of a thousand mirrors.
On the equinox of time in the bushes lay a wasted can with a crack hole it for smoking with a straw. Igor picked it up and held it in front of his face to communicate with it.
Alien species, Igor uttered. Tell me your whisper.
Then he coughed and smote the can of crack away from him in disgust at his own amiability for what he had found from a dank tree in the windless park.
But he re approached the can with a wide circular motion and might have as well been chanting Comanche and ululating at the spot. But he burned his candle in other ways and closed in, encroaching, on the can of forbidden lore.
Yo, Dungeon! He yelled.
The park was empty and vast. Not quite 10 dimensional vast but not small either.
Now the precarious reader, cornucopious in anticipation, would here consider the crack, and the tiger, together as a Category and salivate (mentally) in a great state of lush. How now, brown tiger? As the saying goes. Igor looked at his digital ultrafiber super nonsense turbo watch and forgot from all the parameters what he was looking for. The Sun was high on above though so Igor knew his rival was about to set himself foot on a the pitch and take aim. Nowhere near was the crow who had called for the battle; she hid behind the Sun and snickered and took some snacks. As crows are prone to my lord!
Igor took a vacation from reality and found himself back on the bank of a river. And the river said, "Dip your hook in my flow and see what you are able to catch. " Igor caught a limb, which pulled him into the river. He barely escaped drowning having caught a cold. He caught pneumonia from the cold, but recovered in a bed with dreams about a river that was a looking glass.
On that vacation , You thaw, from arc’s past cold survival - little hop along, smiles eyes to see, unbrazen by Solomon’s judgement will strengthen him ,
for what cant kill him will make him strong. gospel.
according to igor quite in rigor.
The beauty and the beast between gain serpentine knowledge.
Igor, playing the Devil’s advocate, prayed, “Will I ever be One Thing?”
Dracula enters and hearing this , unfurls his wings into angelic figures
Out,
The
and tigers of bedlam on earth ,snap into action by its own volition.
and they up in heaven’s trajectory
Of course he as his function demands layed up in the eternal baroque casket smoke of whisp, alabaster and granite
Marble cold within heart of darkness
Resonate withal the ethereal beneath
as above in unison,
No, never and always now, how brown cow straying eternal indias, sCored patches,
Obliged to forget
only to remember what’s unforgettable
Compelled to repeat what’s unique ,
Divide into the minuscule
undetermined tiniest parts
Each within a cell of thought
Of his own
thinking. that, but fearing as if. he be another
Going up then falling , again down for joy and at pain
in this glorious son,
Shine illuminating all corners included labs. of of terms and odious trembling of just turned children, boys into men,
Black into white and the froth in between
legs of ivory , praying:
Upon discovering the dew, “oh god don’t destroy this world quite yet until I am spent”
Sysiphus with the Son melting his wings, time shrinking
into an abyss coincidentally unified ,
As if through a glass,
Darkly yet emancipated from his sevitude"
Cyborgs raised into 7 th heaven
Singing and beyond choirs of angels:
“all in One, and one for All”
Whisps of sea spray on hold the scene, unfurled the clouds the green valley below ,
to expose a ray intense light upon the birth of Venus.
rising out of a shell.
See? Shall
With baby igor, in trembling embrace to her bosom suckling
Then the baby , unwittingly bit her yits too hard. Causing scarlet drivulets to steam , …
Well that was too much for her, she threw the baby out in a arc of maligned path toward the azure orange horizon of twilight.
The sound of splashing and then silence.
He surfaced with a keen ability to swim toward unforeseen islands in the sun.
His prayer-placebo failing to work, Igor curses his brain as too many. All that he has undergone is still threatening repeat ad nauseum. Is there no way out of the incessant in? Tune in tomorrow for another dip in the gene pool.
There is. The absolute program to reconstruct, where such reconstruction only appears as if It was his originally constructed design.
The larger the AI memory becomes, the more of the original program is deleted, so as to. be unfazed by the enormity of the task for individual education.
That would work against and not for life.
The conformation subsists in Khrishamurti’s disallowing replication through reincarnation, qua religious ’ truths’ presented only for the purpose of blaming life’s wounds.
Only in the ‘Other’ desulting absolutely devoid of fear, can we find salvation
The odd thing is, at that point, the Other becomes the one through the other:
" In It’s Self through It-s Self …
And the mistaken course develops a fragmented political, self that sees no resemblances through the inter reflection of the parts, which does process eternally.
Irr, in case You may be wondering, ‘desulting ’ is an intended error, for it is salt which is a cure for both insulting and the sin of ambiguous creation , as ’ You are the salt of the earth’
In addition salt is curitive on wounds.
‘Ohhh my love, my darling, I hunger for…’ Igor was shaping an urn for the ashes of mankind. He and Demi Moore.
Damn Igor, Demi said. Damn Damn. With her hoarse voice. But Igor concentrated for he was a born shaper, a shifter of shifty shapes into solid forms. I shift you! He would proclaim, and Demi was always amazed at how concentrated he was.
The Urne was nearly finished and this meant, so suspected the happy couple, well read the papers. Read your organs. Read your breath. Suck it in, breathe it into your monstrous little mask to announce great things! and suck it back in. Dont rinse, repeat - ad nauseam! Read it, know it, know nothing else!
Igor’s businesscard read ‘Chandala Inc.’ and he was proud of it. Not ever had he suspected this world to be such a nonsensical place that such a piece of work as himself would ever have a play to part in it. Demi Moore wasn’t even the biggest attraction for him, it was the damned Urne. It was nearly finished.
Igor was already preparing to pondere the next thing he would forge. But not yet - he must not lose concentration. Not at this very last bend of the shape of the neck. Not yet… not yet!
Demi likes boy toys, hence Dracula appears on stage to set her straight.
Or so Draculu thought. A few hours later he found himself in a car next to Hunter Biden with a 14 year old on his lap smoking crack. Demi had no use for pedophiles and the like and returned to admiring Igors steadfast approach to things, an approach so solid that by its very solidity shaped the rest of the world which, after all, was perpetual flux.
Somehow Igor in his craft escaped the flux and sat at the heart of the world, both as it was dying and born anew.