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this kind of started as a response to I am no longer here.

but I've decided to post it in its own thread in respect to its length, and giving other people room to respond to Sepia.


I'll begin with how I discovered Discordia, or rather... who I was when I discovered it. I was a youth in the wilderness, I was angry and I was confused, I guess if were to label myself then I might have called myself a punk as its analogous to the crowd I ran with, the tribe I affiliated myself with... except that even back then I was aware of the danger of labels, and their use as tribal affiliation. I was however, frightened of the world and its traps, I was failing in school because of simple frustration, and the psychological torments of my childhood were finally beginning to rise from their dwellings within my subconscious and manifest themselves in awful ways. They tortured me, and at the very beginning, I feel that I was without identity except for those issues... they defined me, and they steered the ways in which I defined myself. Outside of school, I read prolifically, and I wrote not-quite-so prolifically... but it was raw and savage, steered by my desire to turn my frustration into a kind of beauty... I desired creativity more than anything, or rather, I was a bundle of raw energy that steered its fury into various mediums, I made arts, I put words together, and I projected it through the speakers as a garbled mess. I went on loooooong night walks through the city, to witness sometimes its horror and its beauty, but also the simple beauty of being alone. I imagined things, terrible things, the spiders would talk to me (dead fucking serious, about this, actually) and I usually didn't like what they had to say. The wind in the trees menaced me, I was haunted by unseen voices, my subconscious was truly a terrible miasma which plagued me. I rarely took drugs, suffice to say a certain amount of mental illness runs in my family, and I had suppressed a great deal of pain. I was never abused, I just had some interesting life experiences, which effected me more profoundly than I realized.

Over the years, I've dealt with the traumas of my youth, I've become a more stable person... but I'm not ready to skip ahead to this point yet. We're still pre-discordia in my narrative, although back then I believe I was a true discordian in spirit, but I had not yet discovered this particular tribe. Initially, Discordia approached me, or rather a manifestation of Eris... A girl, a good friend, who provided the initial strife which shook me awake. I ditched the one sided, soul sucking, co-dependent relationship I was in and fell deeply in love with this friend. My overtures to her took place over many years, and we were occasionally more than friends, but what I wanted from her... simply to be with her and no one else, to dedicate myself to her completely and serve her loyally, to use her basically in order to identify myself; this was not congruent with her wishes, and simply was not possible. So for a second time, she became the embodiment of Eris, she violently jarred me awake from my waking dream, and told me firmly "Think for yourself, Schmuck"

... and after that, she became my muse. She moved away, driven by a fury similar to but also dissimilar from my own, although we kept in touch and (remain friends to this day). When I say she became my muse, I mean this quite literally. At times, when I was driven creatively... my internal dialogue spoke with her voice, I'd sense her presence in the unseen patterns of this universe, I tasted her scent on the wind at times and it drove me mad. Of course I knew even back then, that these phantasmagoria are subconscious projections, but this was the shape and form of them, and my love for this girl continued to drive me, albeit in a different form. Maybe its simply that I didn't want to let go, the sound of her voice, her smell, her passion & drive, the idealized version of her that existed in my mind was a way of holding onto the bliss I felt when I was with her... but it was intermingled with her message, the one that said that I needed to realize for myself, it was driving me towards expression but also towards self awareness and definition. I was aware of the divergence here, that this muse was not the thing it represented itself, but a kind of abstract creation which was sparked into life initially by my worship of her.

So that's how I found Eris. Shortly after this, I found Discordia.

At this time, I was post high-school. I was out in the world, I lived in many different houses with many different people, but never alone. I could never afford solitude. I don't know if I ever wanted it. I still externalized my internal strife by putting myself, intentionally, into chaotic situations and surroundings. I had quite a few interesting experiences in this time, and I may have been more sure of myself than I was a few years ago, but that was still the omnipresent factor in my life. I could never avoid it, because it was at the core of my being, but the way it manifested itself in my life was overpowering.

When I found these boards initially, they were much different, and so was I. I was more Erisian, which is to say that I deified Eris, because she was analogous to my muse. The posters were different people, even those that still post here, although if any of you (besides Roger, whom I'm certain has always been here) are the same people from those days... I might not even know, since the changes in user names and tenor of this board has been difficult for me to keep track of. Back then, I might have been more willing to speak, and I probably spoke brashly without consideration of the consequences of speaking. Self expression was something more unrestrained for me back then, although to be honest I made few attempts at it here, because the chaos in my life was the venue of my expression... and when I came here, I mostly listened. It was good to see a structure of belief that fit me well on multiple layers. As a child, I had been deeply influenced by eastern religion, the closest thing to a religion that I had to a religious affiliation was Taoism, although my parents were both rabid born-again christians... probably the thing that initially led to my love of A:Horror films and B: Death/Black Metal. I considered myself to be a Taoist Pantheist, and still did even after "converting". Anyway, the point is I found these forums, I read our literature and liked some of it... I thought the Principia itself was something I had been looking for for a long time, kind of a modern absurdist taoism, and I embraced it fully. I was never really taken in too much by the fnords and all that junk, so when the rift between the pinealists and the rest of it happened, it wasn't hard for me to avoid that trap. Besides, by then I had begun to grow up a bit more.

As for what Discordia meant to me then, its difficult for me to put into words precisely, I know who I was back then and communicating that is probably the best I can do. As far as what Discordia means to me NOW, well, I think I agree with Sepia quite a bit here... I can see why I was intimidated a bit by you, and why our styles seemed so similar to me. We come from a similar place, from Burroughs fringe, the primary work of discordian literature, for me, was NAKED LUNCH. It, I felt more than anything, was raw human experience... and it illustrated precisely, I feel, the role of the machine in our day to day lives. It was, of course, Burroughs personal filter... I'm sure (Sepia) you and I see the world through a different filter, I feel that we share a great deal of the same reference material. It is a shared subconscious belief, in that you and I most definitely agree, and its one that we've all been actively participating in shaping. We can try very hard to define it, but its impossible to define absolutely, because by our own faults of humanity we will always project ourselves into it... how can we do anything else?

So now I've shared story, a long story, not the whole story, but a story with you none-the-less. In doing so I'm breaking one of my cardinal rules, KYFMS, you see... I don't like to share. I've learned that this level of sharing, this kind of openness, makes one vulnerable. It leaves you open to attack. This place has taught me that just as much as the rest of the world. Sometimes, we have to break our own rules, sometimes we have to break out of our own molds. My own manifestation of Eris taught me that many years ago, and I'm still learning that lesson every day. In order to advance, in order to learn, we have to leave our comfort zone... the time when my comfort zone was chaos was a long time ago, it seems, and I'm a better person for having moved past that.

Since then, there have been times that the tenor of this place has been too violent, too confrontational, too abrasive... for me to really actively seek participation. So Lurked Moar, and Moar, and Moar, and Moar... until finally I was silent, or when I did speak it wasn't so much to contribute as much as to just assert that I'm still lurking. I still find it worth my time to come here, because amidst all the braying noise, there is meaningful content... lights that shine so very brightly through the din, and Sepia, you are one of those lights.

LA Dee Dee Da Dee Dee Da....

Oh, and as for my friend, we still keep in touch and we're still very close friends. She lives in D.C. now, pursuing a career. There is a reason I chose her as my muse so long ago, because she's brilliant, flawed (human like all of us), but brilliant. As for my muse, well, I don't hear it quite as loudly anymore... and it very rarely wears the same shape and form that it used to. Sometimes it makes me sad, and I wished I could have held onto that thing forever, but I can't remember that smell, and that voice isn't appropriate anymore for the purpose it once served. I have my own voice now.

Besides, there is another woman in my life now, and I think she dislikes sharing just as much as I do.

This is just some shit I did a while back with Audiowave, or some other .wav editor.
If I ever dig up any of the actual sequencing I did back then, I can post some of that too, but for now... enjoy:

18 Buddha Strike - Werewolves Without A Cause (the remix project)

Emperor---I-Am-The-Black-Wizards-Coked-Out-Werewolf-mix
sunn-0---My-Wall-werewolf-on-heroin-mix
ulver----graablick-blev-hun-vaer-werewolves-wearing-sunday-dresses-huffing-ether-mix
Current-93---Seven-Seals-Intoxicated-Werewolf-Mix

Some day, I'm going to blow up, and you guys will be all like 'Holy shit, that guy just self-immolated!'

A couple nights ago I drank a hell of a lot more than usual.I had intended, when I was still good and smashed, to write about the event after getting home from the party, which was noteworthy for the sole purpose that it actually provided me with the opprotunity to utter the words "shut the fuck up about myspace!". Also, that it also led to my room-mate being called a fag in an argument about how he didnt like morrissey.

Anyway, the point of this is that for the last few days I've been experiencing some of the negative side effects of alchohol detoxification, and this prompts me to do some research about them (because, if you dont know, the DT's are rather unpleasant. ) The problem I'm running into, however, is that most of what I'm finding are websites for detox centers... and well, they piss me off a great deal.

"Some people think rehab is a form of brain washing. While it is not, professionals nationwide tend to agree that most of the brains addicts and alcoholics bring into rehab with them, could use a good washing. Many of the belief systems addicts or alcoholics depend upon have created exactly what they have today. Through educational classes, lectures and reviewing recovery literature, you will begin to replace old ideas with new ones, designed towards achieving and maintaining a long term recovery. Don't worry; you will still be able to have fun!!"

http://www.recoveryconnection.org/faq/

I dont really think I need to express the myriad of reasons I find the above paragraph insulting, but a big part of it has to do with the fact that it reads much more congruently if you remove the words 'while it is not'.

After a lot more reading, and several hours of occupying the living room, I've pretty much concluded that I've been really paranoid about this... which makes sense, thinking about it more lucidly, because insomnia tends to lead me to paranoia (I havent been awake long enough to experience any of those pesky peripheral hallucinations, nor do I intend to, I need to sleep at least a little bit before I go to work.) Smoking the peace pipe (yes, I have a peace pipe) has helped me a little bit with gathering my thoughts, so I think that sleep seems more likely for me.

Anyway, I've long felt this way about the attitude of western medecine towards alcoholism. Detox clinics and the like are no doubt an excellent resource for recovery from severe dependency (understanding the way large quantities of alchohol effect the brain help in understanding the ways  to treat the dependency itself) however I cant help but feel that these groups often eschew constructive methods of treatment in favor of programming. I can understand why this would come about, because it would largely be the most reliable method for producing an alchohol dependent to non-alchohol dependent change in a persons psyche, by instilling in them a drive to prostelyze and convert a cause is instilled in them that takes the place of a prior dependency. However, this is not to completely eschew the role of psychological support in any kind of recovery, its just to say that its best to be aware of the motives behind that kind of conditioning.

As a discordian, I should not willingly subject myself to psychological conditioning.
As a bartender, I should never admit to being an alchoholic.
As an adult human, I should probably quit drinking for a while in the better interest of my health. (at least until I move out of this house, the stress levels are too high.)

Actually, to be completely honest, a large part of the reason I now feel motived to quit drinking are as follows: My tolerance is high enough that I now find it very difficult to enjoy moderate drinking, so until my tolerance goes down (probably after a year or so, it takes a while to deliberately alter your body chemistry) I'm going to want to quit.

Also, I'm starting to think that regular drinking has had a major effect on the way my body handles marijuana, which I dont smoke often at all... but when I do I'd at least like to enjoy it.

It also deserves to be mentioned that alchoholism has been linked to a vitamin B defiency... and that vitamin supplements (Niacin or B3) have been shown to reduce cravings for alcohol.

I'll ask the audience to forgive grammar errors, run on sentances and the like, considering the nature of the article. Mostly I just wanted to express my distaste for western medecine in yet another area, not that it isnt good for getting the job done when necessary, just that in a lot of aspects it is a fear-mongering monster of suffocating dependency.

I think starting a Discordian AA group would be a good idea. I mean, if other religious groups can use this as a vehicle to push their party line, so can we... right?

(This was posted on a my-space forum dedicated to void-worship. If angels could see into my heart, I'd ask them not to cum in my hair.)

I was talking to a human.

Sometimes, before I go to sleep, I get a little bit delusional. I spent some time last night under the impression that my lungs were going to collapse, and while this is probably due to the fact that I was trying to sleep on my side and it was putting pressure on the left side of my rib cage, it was none-the less a convincing paranoia. I would begin to drift off, and then wake up immediately with a violent shudder at my loss of breath, at which point I would try to heavily breath for several moments but the effort seemed hollow and far away, as if I was not present in my own body... then I would begin to become more aware, and I would frantically try to dispel this illusion in my own mind, until I became calm and began to drift off again.

I must have done this several times, before I eventually slept.

I think it is rare, for me to sleep more than three or four hours in one sitting, at least not if I have to work the following morning.

Otherwise I will commit myself to that unfeeling oblivion for as long as I can possibly manage.

Sometimes, when I am downstairs, my room-mates are watching television.
Sometimes, this disgusts me to the point where I purposefully try to go to sleep, even though I am not particularly tired or do not expressly desire sleep at that moment. I am usually successful, and find myself sleeping from sometime in the late afternoon until sometime in the very early morning, usually around two or three. I usually, at that point, have no recourse but to commit myself to being awake... at least until I am ready to sleep again.

Oftentimes, somebody is home, and oftentimes they are even watching television at this hour.

When I lived in another place, I lived in the unfinished part of the basement... I could see the furnace from my bed. I suffered delusions of telepathy with spiders. They were not pleasant, necessarily, but generally respect the concept of territory. However, in this case, I was the unwelcome invader. Being a white, this is not necessarily unusual. I remember feeling the same shortness of breath back then, however more often and more violently, and I would often wake up shuddering feeling hollow and seperated from my body. I attributed this, at the time, to the mold/mildew in the air down in that basement. After all, I slept within breathing of the washing machine, and it did not drain very well... to the point that the section of floor around its would become a large puddle for at least fourty minutes when it was used. I took to sleeping on the floor in an empty room of the house, for a while, but my discomfort did little to acquiesce my overall sense of displacement.

There was another place I lived, where sometimes I would find myself staring at derelict window-unit air conditioner for at least fourty five minutes every night before I went to sleep. I was sure that something was nesting in it, probably bats. I knew that they nested in the chimney, also, which ran down the wall just outside my room in the corner closest to their bed. Many high-pitched shrieks and scratching noises ran down its length, and I heard them often. In the winter, the room was so poorly insulated that I would sleep fully clothed underneath a pile of coats.

Sometimes, when I know I have to work the next day... I get less than an hour and a half of sleep. When I know that I am in danger of sleeping through my alarm, I will purposefully make my room uncomfortable. I accomplish this by turning on all of the lights, and sleeping fully clothed. The next morning, I feel filthy, and completely exhausted... but I have succeeded in leaving one of my favorite places in favor of spending another day awake in this oppressive charade of an existence.

Silly Vs. Not-Silly needs to be clarified.

Obviously most people who read are probably familiar with the curse of greyface, the aneristic illusion, and the eristic illusion... and a lot of other things which discordians are forbidden from reading. Etc.

To be silly is a useful tool, and to appreciate silly things is also useful. I think I personally get kind of annoyed when silliness is abused to the point of losing its meaning. Wait, what did I just say? Uh. Hold on one second.

*papers shuffling*

My point is simple, and it is this: THERE IS CONTENT! LO, I DID READ and I DID BLASPHEME.

The book, as it is written, teaches (amongst fnords and such) to read between the line. Apparently, if not blatantly, contradictory commandments challenge the proposed grid of discordian thought itself. We are to stick apart, but the exact meaning of one thing or another is so up in the air... that who knows which one of its going to land on?

Amongst discordians themselves, I have observed several different camps of thought. Some fundamentalists argue that it is inherantly silly, happy go lucky, and that the manifestations of Aneris are inherantly bad... while others go the opposite route, eschewing the entire principia in an almost Dadaist approach claiming that this is the most 'Discordian' thing. There are those who view the entire principia as a Zen Koan (and it certainly has that influence), those who view it from a literally pagan perspective (Eris as the goddess, to be worshipped and appeased), those who do not take it serious at all (while there are varying degrees to this, I am referring specifically to the 'fluffy' or 'silly' camp), those who view it as a work of lies by an evil bitch, those who view it as the intoxicated ramblings of silly hippies, those who dont care, and a few others.

It seems that most everybody has their own unique take on it, at least if they stop to think about it, and why not?

I dont think that I necessarily fall into any of those categories that I have listed, either that or I fall into just about all of them at one point in time or another. I will say, however, that the principia itself has been a useful tool.

As for the Apocrypha, and other discordian writings, well... we are POPES after all, or SAINTS, or WHATEVER. We have that ability. This is not, nor has it ever been, a static thing CONFINED and BOUND to the front and back covers of a simple book. To me, Discordianism is my little monster, and I will use it like a weapon at times. Do I take it too seriously? I scoff. I am perfectly capable of finding humor, its just that my particular brand of humor is my own... like the goddess herself, I have my own peculiar ways of enjoying myself, and finding mirth in chaos.

I do not say that anybody is wrong, because how can I? Even if I was correct, I would not be correct. Besides that, its not my place to tell people when, how, or why to do whatever it is that they do. Is silly wrong? Of course not! Is silly right? Maybe sometimes, but not necessarily always. I guess it just depends on what you want to do with it.

Me, personally, I think it has its uses. I havent succumbed to the FNORDS yet. I hope that I never do, because in the words of Admiral Akbar... ITS A TRAP!

St. Z¬? K.S.C.
OUT with the GOUT!

No apologies for stolen content, or lack thereof.
No apologies for anything.
Time for some motherfuckin DELTA.

Ok, brass tacks.

1. 'enlightenment', whatever that might be, ultimately begins at self awareness.

2. ranting is an excersize of ego-masturbation, shouting into the void
(as roger would put it).

3. The government might be wicked, but it has been worse, will get
worse, might never get any better, and even though the illusion is
that apathy is a problem... mass apathy is the problem and my apathy
is not actually apathy, its just the passive realization that the
public is educated stupid and that they are never going to wake up as
a whole. Becoming a BETTER AND STRONGER PERSON is the best way to put yourself in a position of actually doing something to change the world, instead of blowing hot air out of your ass or saying "at least I fucking care, and now I have an excuse to be condescending".

4. I doing this because I want to.

5. Discordianism is a crock of shit. HAIL ERIS.

I'd like to take this opprotunity to say hello again to one and all, this being the triumphant fanfare to accompany my return to the internet. Its not that I havent missed you guys and the constant entertainment that your ranting and carryings on (not to mention the wailing and gnashing of teeth) provides me with, its just that I've been kind of busy.

You see, not only have I moved across town, and am preparing to do so again... but I also now work in a very strange place, a nightclub. Not exactly my cup of tea, but it pays my rent and the drinks are often free.

A long while, I had promised a thread dedicated to all of the crazy stories of my old house, and while I could not possibly go through the entire history of the place without incriminating at least a couple people... I'll have to save that for another day, when I can figure out exactly how I want to do that without naming names and pointing fingers. I will, at least, give the Powerpad (AKA: Davey Jones Locker, the Gunboat, the Jerkstore, CGNU, and the Future.) a fair requiem.

I will miss a lot of things about that place... the Jolly Roger, the portrait of Robin Hood, the bats, the parties, the shows, the drunk people leaving the Brothers Tavern every night at one o'clock, and the Filth... I'll miss the filth.

Notable events and things that I will miss:

The moshing bat, which flew downstairs in the middle of a bands set and just flew in circles over the dancing crowd while the band was playing, scaring the shit out of a few people.

The time James, Dale, and Kandiss wore SS Uniforms to promcore III. How they avoided getting into a fight that evening is beyond me, but it probably has something to do with them actually putting way to much effort into it.

The time we ripped one of the bathroom doors off its hinges and had fun throwing it back and forth, eventually breaking my finger (which is still bent, even to this day.)

The time we ripped one of the bedroom doors off of its hinges, drew a portrait of jeromes rabbit on it, and threw knives at that rabbit until Jerome got home.

The time Jerimiah broke a lawn gnome over Jeromes knee, who responded by throwing him down a flight of stairs (jerome is a pacifist, but even he has a breaking point.)

The time we stood out on the front porch with the bullhorn and sang the blues at two o'clock in the morning, until somebody in the neighborhood got on his bullhorn and kindly asked us to stop.

The time we saw two SUV's engage in a running gunfight while they drove down farnam street.

The way james used to watch the taco bell drive-through from his room through the scope of his rifle.

That one time I was smoking weed in the attic wondering what all the noise was downstairs, only to find out later that Joseph and Pat had started a riot in our living room during the Bright Calm Blue show.

The time Anal Blast played, and Dom Deckard turned out to be surprisingly well spoken.

Pissing off the roof.

The time we burned the nintendo powerpad in the tank of the toilet that was sitting in our backyard, how it crackled and popped for an hour and chunks of porcelain would fly off in random directions until eventually all was left was the bowl of the toilet and a bunch of blackened and burned up plastic.

The time Joseph burned a honey-baked ham in the remains of the toilet.

The time, a week after the ham burning, that Patrick took pieces of that ham and threw them up on the roof only to have it roll back down and land with a sickening thud... for about two hours.

The time James thought he saw a ghost, an incident leading to the legendary Keith Binder quote of "YO SEE THROUGH BITCH< WHERE YOU IS!"

The way we spraypainted the entire basement in gang graffity and SLAYER tags.

The time we set up the kiddie pool in the living room, and sat inside of it so we could watch gunsmith cats... and the way the water was filthy and brown when we got out.

The time we made rock stew. Actually, it was a grog made from boiling lots of cinnamon and apples, but we put some rocks in it just because we thought it "needed more earth."

The time I did a pull up on one of the ledges that overhung each door, and then it broke causing me to fall about four feet straight onto my ass. Luckily for me, I dont think I broke my tailbone, but it still hurt like a bitch.

The way that the bats used to make scratching noises in the wall right next to my head every night when I'd try to go to sleep. They lived in the chimney and hung from the ivy that grew on our house, and I loved them dearly.

Talking to the crackheads/homeless people that walked through the neighborhood randomly trying to sell you watches at three o'clock in the morning. Sometimes they'd try to sell or purchase drugs. Sometimes they'd ask for money, and sometimes they'd try to solicate sex. We lived down the block from a dive hotel.

Walking into the living room to find two guys trying to unhook the TV, watching them silently leave the instant they noticed me, then standing there bewildered for a minute or two until james came downstairs with his AK looking for gun oil unaware that any of this had even happened.

The time we stole all of Analogs shirts and burned most of them, just because they deserved it.

The way nobody would wash dishes, which led to a serious problem with flies one summertime and caused me to NEVER cook food or even think about using the kitchen for anything.

The way Crystal Jo Guerrero got a dog, even though she had to work full time and couldnt take care of it, even though we didnt have a yard for it to run around in, even though having one was forbidden by our lease, even though nobody in the house had time during the day to watch it, even though I specifically told her that it was a bad idea and I didnt want to live with a dog for all of the above reasons... and it turned out to be far worse than I could've possibly imagined. It makes me happy, sometimes, thinking about how her name was on the lease for this place. May her debt be turned over to a collection agency.

Thats all I got right now... sleepytime.

Fuck him AND Ralph Waldo Emerson.

[The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat]

He's a weird Nuerology guy.

Two books of merit:
The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat;
Anthropologist on Mars

Mostly these are just collections of different case studies of people with bizarre mental disorders &/or brain damage. IE the man who mistook his wife for a hat.

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