The Abyss & The City

[Sepia]

The Abyss & The City



"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee." - Friedrich Nietzsche

"To fight the Empire is to be infected by its derangement ... Whoever defeats the Empire becomes the Empire; it proliferates like a virus ... thereby it becomes its enemies." - Phillip K Dick


"Language is a virus from outer space." - William S Burroughs


The truth be told: Here we are. There is nothing more told in sentences, books, movies or smileys, there is nothing to add to our situation, we have become nothing more than what we used to- beings of light elude us as we try to grab them with our crude matter, the wings soar away as we try to chain them so we can study them and learn what they are, what it means to be them because we've forgotten how to know or our desire to know and know it in our souls as our knowledge of the unbroken circle of zerthimon guides our clandestine hands.

The rhythm is breaking and this is important because the rhythm is important, the rhythm in things is its scaffold, what glues it together and makes us able to recognize what it is. The rhythm breaks when we travel in time, either in memory or in deja vu, the rhythm breaks when we stand in an epiphany, the crossroads illuminated, a cold blue sky but it isn't, late august, crickets making the twilight sound and their rhythm breaks as yours break.

Sartre called it nausea and Dick called it the empire that never ended, marilyn manson said it was a hole in his soul that he filled with dope but this sensation, the black hole of our very soul, the black cliche of artists and other sensitives, like an idea planted three stories below it spreads through the classes, races and we will all be hole. The abyss can be said to be a tool of enlightenment, a battle to be won valiantly like in the modern mythology but who has time in this society to learn enough from qabbalah to be able to traverse qlippoth but the ideas infect us and spread, not malignant, not controlled and time does not exist for a virus.

Like language, the abyss or the empire is a virus, an idea, a concept spreading by random chance like the concept itself is spread through the lovely eyes of Leonardo DiCaprio and the empire is alive and well in us now. We are god, as far as we can prove but we do not know what god is, we try to see and live by the rules and the laws, we go to church every sunday to try to be filled with god so we can become god, something is missing from the equation before we can become god so our scientists run simulations, trying to create an ai so we can become god, perhaps that's the way god became god when he created something. We should have kept the old monster alive and his father, the moral and ethical problems the idea presents should have been catalogued, every emotion, every thought should have been bottled for us

so we could become god. Longinus, did he become god as he pierced the son of god, did Judas become god for thirty silver, did the daggers of Longinus and Brutus make the gods, is god made in death and birth? In that instant, is god made and judged upon us?

Dying is what we are, an understanding seen in Da'at as we became infected with the eldest of virii when we saw beyond the veil, understanding and knowing it just standing gazing at the threshold, the world underneath us, twixt a naked woman and a slithering snake in an ocean of stars and beyond the fabric of space and time sits an englishman and as his beard gives off serene swooshes as he types he writes us all into existing here beyond the veil where we all live all the time, where we are when we are the degree of far out that we are, not knowing anything and we sometimes say that confusion is the highest mental state and buckminster fuller is not captain and the people we used to deem sane run around on lawns yelling at the stars with towels around their heads.

It all fell, fell apart like a beautiful nail from the nineties. It seeped hope. We felt an old man falling down on his knees on his lawn with the smell of burnt hair on his nostrils and empire ending and an abyss emerging out in the hallway where our children can see it and be affected by it and to help them avoid it we barricade the hallways and we build around it just like old Peer Gynt did and we build, slithering past responsibility, past freedom to more glorious futures and corporations will become nations will become kings before they further evolve and Hamsun had it right that in a hundred years all will be forgotten.

No stone will be here erected.

[East Coast Hustle]

Dig it. The narrative flow seems a little more lackadaisical than what I'm used to seeing from you, but that's not a complaint at all. I really like the tone of implied resignation to the inevitable.

[Cramulus]

I love your writing, Sepia.

I think you hit it with Sartre's nausea... this helpless inevitable feeling that everything is going where it should go.

Where we once grew out of a pool of amino acid
we are now the pool in which something else stirs - still primitive.

It has begun to crawl onto land and it's dragging us with it. It is the era of corporate personhood. The legal entity. The egregore. The word virus.

I can't help but feel like we committed to this path ten million years ago, sitting around the embers of a camp fire, wishing it weren't so cold out. First you build the machine, then you destroy it. But the trick is that it's a machine that gets built by its own destruction. We'll string up a tyrant and put another one in his place. It's so naive, and yet inevitable. Like a bum getting drunk to forget his troubles.

Here's to you, Sepia.

[Bebek Sincap Ratatosk]

Another beautiful piece, Sepia.

My usual optimistic side got mushed into a corner for a minute

[hooplala]

The Tar-Baby Principle illustrated beautifully.

[Sepia]

Work has been killing me lately but my dearies, thank you for the kind words.

I'm very glad I can deposit my brainfilth here and I'm overjoyed every time anyone finds something they can use in any of these pieces, you're making my day.

[Jenne]

Your brainfilth is my body scrub.  Just saying.