My cabal is recently called Dysnomianism. It's only a cabal as recently as this paragraph, having once been a workshop series entitled Reality Break, before being a subsect of Discordianism and later a splinter religion. Dysnomianism has not yet had any converts, as converts are generally obtained by holding onto some metaphysical or practical consistency & then cramming it into the brains of passersby. Dysnomianism is always changing. Dysnomianism is not changing right now. Now it is again. (One can only keep up with Dysnomianism at a healthy jogging pace, and it is always changing direction.)
Dysnomianism might be found one day under your kitchen table, pretending to be a mote of dust. You might sweep it up and start to throw it into the trash, but before it struck the can it would have transformed into a late-night jam session in a deep south jazz club. Dysnomianism doesn't peform encores. It doesn't perform at all. It isn't a religion, or a subsect, or a jam session. Dysnomianism is presently a half-formed concept creeping into your mind's eye's peripheral vision. Now it's gone.
There is nothing called Dysnomianism. There is a goddess, let's call her Dysnomia Daughter Of Eris, and she inspires a mystery cult, let us call it Those Who Follow Dysnomia. Whereas the act of being a Discordian-- let us forget for a moment those who are so foolish as to believe there is something so tangible as a discordian belief system-- the act of being Discordian is to invent something so fun that it couldn't possibly be true and then to believe it for the fuck of it, the act of being one of Those Who Follow Dysnomia is the act of taking everything you actually believe in your heart of hearts, with which you will not part for any reason, and fitting it for a pair of concrete shoes. Dysnomia takes no prisoners, because by the time you are captured, your ideas of freedom and control themselves are shredded wisps streaming from the smashed remains of what you once thought was your paradigm. You will wish that she had only questioned your reality once at once, as Eris so tamely does, instead of questioning it all the way down, all the way downtown, the final turtle made into turtle-soup.
There's something called Dysnomianism, again. It's a Discordian Cabal. It's something you can understand; now it's not. It's a black hole of thought, unyielding, not in this for any purpose, not even lulz. Dysnomia is the doubt which rests, solid as a rock, behind all shifting veils of certainty. Everyone is a Dysnomian, for just this sentence. Now it's back to being just me. Existence is what happens when you do the same thing more than once in a row; Dysnomianism does not exist. You are not welcome. You are of course welcome, and you may join, but you will not succeed in pinning it down.
Dysnomianism might be found one day under your kitchen table, pretending to be a mote of dust. You might sweep it up and start to throw it into the trash, but before it struck the can it would have transformed into a late-night jam session in a deep south jazz club. Dysnomianism doesn't peform encores. It doesn't perform at all. It isn't a religion, or a subsect, or a jam session. Dysnomianism is presently a half-formed concept creeping into your mind's eye's peripheral vision. Now it's gone.
There is nothing called Dysnomianism. There is a goddess, let's call her Dysnomia Daughter Of Eris, and she inspires a mystery cult, let us call it Those Who Follow Dysnomia. Whereas the act of being a Discordian-- let us forget for a moment those who are so foolish as to believe there is something so tangible as a discordian belief system-- the act of being Discordian is to invent something so fun that it couldn't possibly be true and then to believe it for the fuck of it, the act of being one of Those Who Follow Dysnomia is the act of taking everything you actually believe in your heart of hearts, with which you will not part for any reason, and fitting it for a pair of concrete shoes. Dysnomia takes no prisoners, because by the time you are captured, your ideas of freedom and control themselves are shredded wisps streaming from the smashed remains of what you once thought was your paradigm. You will wish that she had only questioned your reality once at once, as Eris so tamely does, instead of questioning it all the way down, all the way downtown, the final turtle made into turtle-soup.
There's something called Dysnomianism, again. It's a Discordian Cabal. It's something you can understand; now it's not. It's a black hole of thought, unyielding, not in this for any purpose, not even lulz. Dysnomia is the doubt which rests, solid as a rock, behind all shifting veils of certainty. Everyone is a Dysnomian, for just this sentence. Now it's back to being just me. Existence is what happens when you do the same thing more than once in a row; Dysnomianism does not exist. You are not welcome. You are of course welcome, and you may join, but you will not succeed in pinning it down.