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We, the Damned
Crackpot Mailbox: c8 and James Chew the Metaphysical Phat
© 2019 James LaFond
c8 commented on 'Super Position' Dec-16-2019 7:53 PM UTC
(Part 1)
Well. As Neo said when Morpheus showed him the Matrix, 'woah.' Or, as TS Eliot wrote, dedicating 'The Wasteland' Ezra Pound, 'il miglior fabbro,' "to the better craftsman," itself a crib from Dante's Purgatorio, where the exiled Florentine was honoring Arnault Daniel:
“O brother, the one I point to with my finger,”
He spoke, and pointed to a soul in front,
“Was a better craftsman of the mother tongue.”
James, you should really market those genius pills that you're taking. Or maybe it's just the Baltimore water. Pearls before swine! As exampled by your previous essay re: Jorjani's 'Prometheus & Atlas.' which aligns nicely with Julian Jayne's (and Jung's) ideas about the ebb of the supernatural from Western consciousness. This is also explored in Richard Friedman's 'The Hidden Face of God,' which notes that early on in the OT narrative God simply stops talking to humans directly, in later chapters only doing so sparingly through the Prophets, who themselves are instructed to denounce the persistent sacrilege and abominations of the stiff-necked Israelites. Jorjani's trajectory of devolution would follow from decay of the actual physical ability to hear God's voice.

I have long been acquainted with my relative retardation. As such I explain my seeming ability to present insights that more keen minds have missed by way of my extreme, lifelong alienation, which has reduced the chimpish chatter and white noise of Civilization and permitted an outsider's perspective. Thank you so much for these references, none of which I have read other than brief passages of Jung.
I suspect that we once, as people, communicated directly with the Creator, and that heresies of certain stripes, often focused on a prophet or the idea of individual concourse with God, are whispers from God testing us to overthrow the interlopers, His usurpers, the corrupt scriptures of those hierarchies which would consign all of us to the operant damnation of viewing God only through their manipulative interpretation. In this regard, Catholicism in its older forms, with the priest chanting facing the altar, in line with the people, was a way of holding the line against worship of the preacher, who now takes the place of God spewing his will into the lesser minds beneath the pulpit. Jorjani tenders clinical evidence for lingering connections to divinity and also makes it clear that these are not all benign aspects of the divine, that there is real lovecraftian evil alive beyond our sensory shutters, just as all ancients I have studied believed, that divinity was not the servitor of man, that the notion of God was anciently far more than the universal social good our prosperity masters preach.
I suspect that the source of our connection with the deity is primarily through our Neanderthal strain, which explains its weakness in us, their exterminators. I have no proof for this other than the fact that Neanderthals practiced funerary rites first and that their much larger brains seemed to have had no use in technological or oral language skill. See Stan Gooch in his Cities of Dreams. I will explore this in Dream Eater, an upcoming novel. This is actually the subject of much of my science-fiction, including The Consultant, Beyond the Pale, The Spiral Case, The Sunset Saga and other efforts—our separation from God through religion, society, ideology and technology—the four horsemen of our damnation.

This idea may be less esoteric than generally believed. For example: the ability of birds, sharks, etc to circumnavigate the earth was long conjectured to be due to some weird undiscovered organ that contained iron, but a newly discovered class of flavoproteins called cryptochromes allow animals to 'see' electromagnetic fields. If all matter is energy, and DNA, neurons, the universe is simply information, why is it impossible that we once were equipped with the ability to interpret the language of the universe and of its Creator? If, as Bentov postulated, it is consciousness that creates the brain, and not vice versa, and if our brains are simply antennae which once could tune in the "god" frequency, then the Fall is explicable as the loss of that gift, certainly the greatest disaster to ever befall the species.

I agree with this metaphysical view of the Fall and propose that in our religious records, it has been conflated with the Fall of the monster Civilization that once enslaved our ancestors. In Gilgamesh, an earlier source than the Old Testament, we see a much more nuanced and malevolent form of the Fall, which is conflated with the Flood. In Plato's tale of Atlantis, in Howard's view of heroism being drowned in a river of sissy blood lines to be rescued and reemerge via human wells of alienated intersection, and in Lovecraft's view of extra-human truth as monstrous, I suspect that we have been treated to prophecy of a sort. I also suspect that these suicides may have been compelled by demonic forces as a way of denying us sustained divine intersection, as expressed cryptically by Evola in Men Among the Ruins, Metaphysics or War and by Junger in The Forest Passage, The Glass Bees and Storm of Steel.
Howard, and also Bowden, were prophetic figures who operated in a trance. Look at Bowden's lectures—he is every bit as entranced as the guitarist for ACDC. Howard used to shadowbox on country roads, sing poems while he beat a pile with a sledge, and otherwise induced trances in himself.
I would amend "simply antennae" to something more expansive, which I momentarily lack the ability to express in direct prose.

c8 commented on 'Super Position' Dec-16-2019 7:51 PM UTC
(part 2)
The apocryphal Book of Enoch names the 'fallen angels' who taught man the dark arts, metallurgy, weapons-making, money, all the rest. Not a serpent but Azaziel and 70 others. They bred with women and a race of monstrous giants was spawned, who desired human blood sacrifice, and were likely the actual Builders of all the pyramids around the globe, holding mankind in thrall until God intervened to stop the nightmare the Fallen angels and their Nephilim spawn had wrought, erasing them with a well-flung asteroid (around 12,000 BC). But some remnant of these abominations survived, in the highlands away from the coasts, the "priests" of Molech and Aztec lands, still thirsting for human blood. The Abraham-Isaac narrative may have been symbolic of the final revulsion against human sacrifice, a mopping-up operation, so to speak. In Mediterranean cultures, Crete, Etruscans, Spain, these Molech cults persisted, although increasingly in the shadows, even amongst the Hebrews, as we know from the Prophets.

Men such as Randall Carlson and Graham Hancock have successfully and definitively proven that the academic view of geology intersecting with ancient civilizations and the monoliths so falsely dated and fiercely guarded as recent creations, that one can easily see, that in a former age, before the Holocene, that a global civilization which constructed monoliths beyond our current ability to construct, did in fact exist. However, these pie-in-the-sky, fools, abide by the secular reinterpretation of God in Modernity, which is the Aristotleaen ideal of "the good" which he applied to society and they insist on applying to divinity. Thus they pine for their Big Rock Candy Mountain beyond Time in their suppositional worship of "sacred geometry" and other such notions of global-group-hug-cuntbya. I suspect that this corruption of the practical mind among prophetic dissidents such as these men is a marionette mechanism used by the evil gods who reign over us, glut upon our quivering souls, delect in our pulsating misery and satiate only in our deepest sorrow.
The conflation of these elements of ancient angst, are, I now suspect on my third reading, to be found profoundly imbedded in Beowulf, which I am working on dissecting in A Warrior Be. I have come to view the document as a record of man's separation from God confusedly wrought by one who did not see other than duality.
I suspect that the 150,000-year-long war against Neanderthals, the 2,000-year-old religious war against Aryаns, in which the enemy has even turned Christianity and Judaism into atheism to forge a better weapon for metaphysical war against our primal mind, in its final phase now, are both aspects reflected in the earlier myths of Gilgamesh, Prometheus, Achilles, Odysseus, Herakles, Aeneas, Roland and Beowulf, in which the hero must be murdered by the gods as punishment for the three sins against artificial godhood everlasting:
-and agency.
These are the preeminent crimes against religions, states and ideological institutions such as the NGOs and corporations now ascending to control over the more worn and elder social organisms. For this reason Howard and Wolfe, in their interpretation of heroism as being necessarily against the gods, against horrific forces, and Lovecraft's obsession with malefic extra-humanism, to this mind's ear, sing as songs of eternal dissent against extra-human wills striving like encircling fiends of gaslight to keep us from God. In Wolfe's masterful Litany of the Long Sun, a priest, on a generation ship, charged with ministering to a congregation the will of AI deities imbedded as the egos of the creators of the generation shop—Imagine here our InfoTech moguls uploaded as gods—is contacted by "The Outsider" a god force beyond the imprisoning pantheon of the cruel masters of his world, a God whose symbol was "the sign of addition."

But now our enlightened society has re-instituted infant sacrifice, and the elites drink their young blood, via companies like San Francisco's Ambrosia, and perhaps by more recondite means. Perhaps this horror, now made manifest, was what Lovecraft and Robert Howard perceived and fled. Gene Wolfe's dying sun is a meta-symbol, as you note, of humankind's loss of dignity and nobility, of our wanton refusal to discern any comprehension of the Creator's voice. We have devolved and become cockroaches with smartphones, staring endlessly into the Shining Darkness of evil, bereft of hope or even any consciousness of what shape hope might take.
We are the damned.

Sir, this was a beautiful passage of Truth tossed into a sea of shimmering lies.
The cannibalistic will or our masters to devour our innocent is the central aspect of Organa and The Sunset Saga, something I sensed inarticulately was underway when I began that fiction project in 2009.
I see it as no accident, that as Howard wrote of heroes battling horrors on the nighted margins of Civilization and Lovecraft told of seeking minds shattered by extra-human agency in the very fishbowl of Civilization, that a new, never-before-seen and noxious form of phony hero literature, which partook deeply of symbolism and naturally appealed to the latent hero-mind of the Aryаn adolescent—for until a few years ago this medium was targeted almost exclusively to appeal to Northern European diaspora youths—emerged, superhero comics. The purpose of the superhero is to negate the hero which, uniquely in Aryаn tradition stands against the gods while in other traditions he is merely a champion of a people against other peoples and those aspects of the natural and supernatural world which threaten the social hierarchy.
In my mind the imbibing of the superhero comic and by extension the movie and by extension the police TV drama is nothing other than a war machine targeted at the Aryаn soul.
If you have any Neanderthal or Aryаn heritage, I implore you never to read or view a superhero comic, movie or police drama, for any reason other than to conduct an autopsy of the evil which has been aimed at your heart since the 1930s, almost precisely when our two most dissident modern prophets against the evil gods who have usurped our concourse with Truth Everlasting took their own lives, each according to his nature, two opposites that saw the same web of lies from their lonely corners in the hive.
Thank you so much, c8, from the looted tomb of this world where your name is not safe.
God's Picture Maker: Dark Eyed Girl Edition
'Super Position'
a well of heroes
‘From a Frozen Sleep’
masculine axis
the sunset saga complete
solo boxing
thriving in bad places
under the god of things
shrouds of aryаs
on the overton railroad
thawtcriminowitz     Dec 23, 2019

I wanted to say something remotely clever but Im out of my league here. Extremely fascinating conversation though gentleman, I'm now going down a Stan Gooch rabbit hole

- Gur thl sebz zna jrrxraq jvgu gur terng nff
James     Dec 24, 2019

This was very specifically clever!
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