EATING ISUSAN.
Susan and the religious character of this pastoral distinction can be understood only in light of nature, life and spiritual temper. What went on in the back yard may be regarded with disapproval but not surprise. Driven to pasture, doomed by nature and circumstance to strange excess and useless struggle, the books of the affairs of Susan are a memorial, for Susan had the impatience of a duck, the sensitivity of a cat and the nerves of Europe, Asia and America. Or properly speaking, Lady Ottoline, Lady Cynthia and Horrible Dorothy. For Susan was a natural if not inevitable result of the nerves and discontent of these extraordinary refugees. Her origin in nature would find a suitable place to develop among the coal pits where mostly night miners, those primitive Methodists, know the Unknowable on Tuesday nights, who have forgotten all their bones. There was only the one thing to do and they did it. They invented a private religion which always stands or feels like it stands naked for the fire to go through, rather an awful feeling, rushing from the Beyond with the Unknown and with the Infinite which in more suitable times might make us novelists. In this vast shimmering impulse of Susan which waves onwards towards the end, we, like rain drops falling back again into the sea, fall back into the shimmering, a theory of relation, mindlessness and blood, the primitive that believes in the unseen hosts. She doesn’t even know me, gloated knowledge. She doesn’t know I am a gentleman on two feet.Why should a man even try to know a symbolical cow? Why should he have approached her in levity with religious awe, feelings more appropriate to High Mass? And why should this adoring company of readers assist so solemnly at her services.
Susan is not just a problem requiring solution. Our questions deal less with her than the road to her, the plight and aspirations of our day. We propose following this cow to her sister cows to engage the problem of our times. Many distinguished betters had their Susans.
My search for Susan led to the memorial volumes kept by all abattoirs of her acquaintance, memoirs of a growing body of material where the great religion of Susan believes that flesh is wiser than mind. Susan who flowed like milk would be pleased to be without impediment of mind. She comes out of a trance relieved to be trotting home with gladness. Where she is when she’s in the trance who knows. That’s Susa. She has a perfect relation with devotion and symbol of good mindlessness.
The modern world, dead and corrupt before it died in vain for earthquake and revolution.
“The creatures outside looked from cow to man, and from man to cow, and from cow to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.”
This deep pleasure and profounder fusion were discovered in the polarity of mindlessness that ailed the world symbol of the good. Belief in the blood and FLesh, the milk wiser than both. a creature of emotion answers to the fribbling intervention of the smell of science mind free like the teats of a cow. Futurist, symbolist, nihilist the first great step in undoing. Ursula and countess Ladybird with their sermons on cogwheels, the horse and its reluctant beast rider, the mare to face the railway crossing, cows, cats, fishes in mystical contemplation of the blossom.
Ursula, the teat,
Frieda beyond deep
Gudrun chaos of the world.
Nothing is so deep as the way to the four centers of the squeamish.
Tender and unknowable the process of the lumbar ganglion, the sacral and the cervical, the hypogastric and their eightfold polarities.
As far as the relation between Turk and his paramour, witnesses reported in memoirs of battles between those lovers around whose heads and feet cups and saucers, demoed objects flew. Mirrors, fountain pens loved each other that much, to perfect the Oedipus couple. He was Sigmund the perfect Wagnerite, she was a Polish governess who might have been said to polarize his wishes. It was a strange conjunctivo to admit this mental chummy. Her favorite month was May. Bold polarities among pantheists and vitalists, transcendentalists winging their giddy flights to the dark core of the sun were not just taking sunbaths, but under pine trees librating her soul what neither the neglect of vegetables, of carrots and squash, new Wordsworth sitting on his cold grey stone in the vernal wood would assemble on platters. The daisies in Plato were a matter this positive. Cups of peppermint in pots, dark promiscuous novel pairs, horses and cows of the very female sort had a soothing effect on them. When they sit with their heads in their sides milking they are solaced. As said, as Susan milked they gazed into her eyes. This prepared for the tragedy in every cow who has been both comedy and milk along the sylvan way.
Anthropologists engage in her worship.
Cows of peace and plenty.
Cows and pines, drum and dance,
If Susan had gone to her nest among the trees that night,
she could wander with Miss Lucy to the moon.
Susan might wander in the moon or as some cows will jump it, but the meaning of her confluence would escape all but the adept in sleep. Cow and moon and their almost unspeakable connection are known with the wisdom of the east handed down from that pineal daughter of the Chaldee who sees Susan plain in her loony light with Atlantis moonings. Not just for the mindless and the primitive for the Orient express this discontent with the here and now.
Susan like a goat or a cow in Swedenborg where the yogi was an early name for cow. These syntheses of the German, O Altitudo, were emotions starved by Darwin in his cities and factories, but Susan had been nude before the Flood. Those happy befallen Atlanteans privileged to exhume her even after the passing egenerate.
The Egyptian Cow, the Hindu cow, the Aztec adepts of Hermes and Herakleitos, Mahatmas Blavatsky, who discover the secrets in their New York lodges, open the gates of the anima, Isis depending. Annie Butler Yeats said as much and Sinnett, friends of the Society where they read the works permitted to smell the spectral incense and hear the astral bells. These bridge the Birkeland gap between myth and symbol and land. Keys to the same cow the fallen angel overturned with convenient symbol and the early poems of mystery were written to this dictation. He had his tail in his mouth from Bolivia to Moscow who believed in metempsycowis, not the first hard experience of these disclosures. Sands of excitement plume the initiate. Concerns that control Houdini, better known as John Kunda, speak of a cow so occult that though it can not be understood until the fourth initiation is universally explored as the female principle of nature. The melodious cow horns veil symbol by cow. The cow like the moon would be impossible to suppose without the star that Mme unveiled, that most occidental bird of the Arab tree complaining that the turtle of our Phoenix was a cow.
But cows don’t eat at night.
Shall we dream of equal love for men, women, flower, cow? and their symbolic breasts who made the world safe for cow worship? My quest of Susan through the depths of animism and mindlessness, though puzzling and unprofitable questions confound the bovolatrous man who could not welcome those explorations of the limits of thought. For when the imagination has failed its alchemy and the absurd raw material remains raw and absurd, the meaning and value of the work seem foolish in devotion to the actual cow. The world as bad as the confessor allows, broken under, tore from the roots that clutch, closing barren leaves, the plight of sensitive men becomes worse.
Bergson and Nietzsche fled with the reasonable men of the cows, calling to Wagner and his congregants against the round of a barbarous. The deep of Wagner called to the deep of the perfect Wagnerite social and economic orders to find a cow, not merely the cow of the flesh, nor merely the lost cow of youth, but the image of a strong and wise cow of the mind’s life. I repeat, there is no reason to quarrel with them about cows. These Birkelands are completely realized in their course between the rock of dogma and the mysticism of cow.
The great Fred Nietz thought us all happy cows whose rivulets dance our wayward rounds in beauty born of murmuring sound. Cow poets and chicken fat. That cute little donkey a mule or a poet? Believe it not we could answer this. Do you wonder why they looked for fire when Susan drove up in their midst and waved? Were they proud that Mercury had crossed both angles of the county lane. Fire is the spark extinguished by sky in cold air. To get the distance right, a nautical mile being 1852 meters, being a mean of 1852.3m in a sea mile, about 1,861 meters at the poles and 1,843 meters at the Equator, this geographical mile must equal one minute arc of longitude along the Equator: 1855.4 m for the International (1924) Spheroid,[5] or 1855.325 m for the WGS 84 ellipsoid, a telegraphic mile rounded to the length of a minute of arc on the Equator. A data mile is 6,000 feet as approximation, which numbers attached keep appearing.
Cow speech, goat thought reverts that tongue prospecting spades and boots. To say there is some ethic prime directive of electrosmog, something like phantasia -inversion, or as said about Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars- “found in an IBM copier at a surplus sale,” suspiciously dovetailing the lost Borges years,” that “shoots situations, instead of bullets,” well, as the thinking moon came nearer to SueQ, it gave text to language rays and universals. What about goats? What about chickens? What about asses? What about pyramids? Project “Silent Talk” detects the word-specific neurals before speech to see if patterns generalize. Once an ass would speak, it will not stop. Chickens also churn their stripes. Wide Eyed– Persistent Stares of drone use mosaic video and auto-track pattern-of-life data from cellphone cameras inside the footage area, chronograph movements and forensic rewinds of footage catch the Gorgon Google Stare.
But I leave this primitive plumbing for you spiritual creatures who see something beyond. Marie Antoinette with her milk pails croons. It was in Phoenix we met Susan who ate pumpkins to so much success. Susan among the dances. Susan upon the berm, Susan’s face more than dimples, fore the timeless, symbolic breast of great ages. Look reverent you triple life-sized interstates in Mack truck boyos. Here I am with a cow and this grass. What better to enjoy lucidity. Susan a creature of wood cow Crete. Whether in Cambridge or Iceland or dead, the cow will always be there.
Taurobolium is a livid cartoon that plays in brilliant color and sound instantaneously, which does not mean it is true, not at all, but the clown, cannot leave its own world. What remains when language assesses, gives a version of, translates the clown circus, is a completely arbitrary statement dependent utterly on personality inclinations, filter of the speaker. And this is also true of the thoughts of that speaker, which has an individual clown, even though they can't be known, all individual dependent, tailored from that sensorium, not held in common with another, whose associations derive from the mental pathways, walked, blocked, diverted, overwhelmed in play especially. Since we have no necessary assurance that thoughts are true they are like a clown speaking a cartoon. So all thought must be brought into captivity.
That all these events connect to each other and to other events as well, is a tragical saying “beyond meaning” to wonder at an overall cohesion reduced to prophecy at the news stand. A free form poem of ellipses, dips, aggregation and collection magnifies not signified diffuses the data. Do the two-horned beast and the United States belong together? Does the former symbolize the latter? If America is the two horn then its dehorning in the fall of the twin towers applies a sacrifice to a greater global entity, by these very agencies that govern it. The slaughter of the ox is fearsome by itself, but when the ox is a nation, more. And if we start down this road of nations as animals then the bestiary of their zoo world includes even the planets with their geo-besti-ology. The human torso cast as a world, or in America as the woman's body, or as the empire of Logres stretched across Europe as a woman, America cast as a bull to be sacrificed has a certain context in the nations of revelation cast as beasts. To show the simultaneous features of these matters, the ox is one of four cherubim in Genesis that stands for the living creatures, but the ox is also a Taurobolium.
Captives followed Susan west to the Cowlonias of Pleugerville south. She used to drive her Olds that stretch Saturdays to the bakery. Enforcers lingered beside the road where clairvoyant body parts might drop. We’re not supposed to say that random collects from this scapulimantic dig calcified to bone rehydrate Austin Oracles. We keep reading Velikovsky for that work heated from the resulting cracks. Hepatic morphology, unless better terms come to hand, have much import, which is our purpose here.
Our friend Lie Low used to collect these parts. Transcendent shoulder bones have high resale value with the wings still attached. Clairvoyant organs all. Haruspicated intestines are sought by celebrities. The liver is most potent, also the kidney stone. Raja Rao dug these before construction under the University computer center, near the Tower. Tower vessels accounted further scapulimancy along Highway 290 all the way to Luckenbach. Random flashes of light common accounted there were first attributed to atmospheric effects. Balls of yellow light, like fireballs shot mysteriously from the exploding chests.
You who sit still long enough for a short history in Egypt know the portmanteaus of the bag itself, and the valuables of that chest, heart and lung you are yourself, celebrating the exhumation of outer forms. Weave a circle round him twice and divide each half of the quantum bit in two. Our binary, binominal, bipolar code round 356 levels of certainty divides everything between 0 and 1. Picture a sphere spinning on two poles, and if there is any alcohol left in the vertigo of civilization’s residue strangely altered, Susan will lead you to the humany. For from the beginning world until the end of time, these strange secrets hid in familiar disguise. Hieroglyphics cover the common, color the ordinary embedded in unusual ways. An ordinary Susan would not enrich the familiar in field and farm. Romantic movements began from this embrace, royals dreamworlds of pomp and circumstance. Impossible ordinare! Cleaving solitude from these accounts, oracles confound moral attachment. Simple elements in a complex overlay distinguish that primitive perfectly intelligible to our Reader with a bottle of Sensation. These account the struggles of Susan, Great Turk and the step Dame from first to the last replay.
The prophet is a fool and the spiritual men are mad. The Orange Sea swallowed the rock mesh nets and internet farms. Engulfing drains, potential melee, slid into the sea. Photo cells turned red lights on. The sun stabbed arms in a purple gown.
Shall I tell of her largess? She welcomed whole countries and peoples to populate. Susan was so big you could find out countries in her. Census has been conducted. She was literally a whole new world. I came and saw her consumed. Ox cries, the worship of wisdom, the group whore, signifying all wisdom religions and metaphysical societies that ever trod, summarized by the Ox that cooks St. Antipas in its kettle at Pergamon and Kepler cooks Mysterium Cosmographicum, and all those Gates of ISIS 2008-2016, Sperm Light in Egypt, Alters in the Marketplace, Time-polarized Electro-Magnetic Signatures, Werther Effects of the Angel Empires (all sites here), which number calculates, gemetrias of Kharazian wonders everywhere in the secret mysterium tauroboliums surrounded by the ace of seduction, the monas hieroglyphica, Ishtar in pants of every member of such societies numerous, small and great. How else we are to gain spiritual knowledge is self evident since these deceptions affect the highest up with their power while the lowest down just get doped, but it's all the same.
The Angel of Seattle
The capital of this national principality, like Atlanta of the old south, the new slavery in this civil war, purveys the digital servitude, crowd sources, clouds, clones, robots, AI, data base mining. So Seattle. If they speak of lust, it is some pale shade not that Apocalypse in its chair, shoulders to the left, knees to the right, rock head turned around. The face, the nose, the cheek, the brow that shades the eyes stuck out.
That champion of 5G rollout where gills curve up to meet the stalk is notched to join the top. Whoever’s on the beanstalk can swap their cow for a wonder stick or a bee that sings and a fiddle that plays pop-tunes, that is the good cow Milky White whose wonders appear in the tales. As puppoets live pop tunes, climb the beanstalk or cut it down, exchange a cow for seeds that grow to climb to heaven to find Jack Bommb, that moonlight idol whose Temple serves all who climb the stars.
Ancient cities habitations in myth all have undergrounds as modern cities do. An examination of Seattle, which leads to the Washington D.C. underground is a counterpart to Satanic Florence in Dante where Dante’s map of the fallen cosmos in human form is a picture of the eye. He takes the physical world as an allegory of the spiritual. The Seattle of Bezos taught us this in its SIS, Amazon, frequency weapon experiments on the homeless. Guards at Amazon act as monitor eyes and ears to transmit images to computers to ID each face entering. Cyberized cameras identify Seattle homeless as a general laboratory for development of frequency weapons on targeted individuals via SIS.
While it would seem removed from the question of Seattle undergrounds, Antarctica is a factor in later instances for its use especially in the present f passages older than the most ancient of Sumer. To dream of these caverns as a child and traverse them too, before reading Tolkien, I explored those caves, Schoolhouse Cave especially, a wholesome experience compared to the artifact Under. When that first coal was hauled down the flood with Flotsam and tree trunks, and Jetsam was hailed from on the bank, the cliffs enlarged at the top of the hill with mine holes and caves. Strip mines, iron sump, slag piles added a kief of resin to the parabolas intersecting down the knees to the sawtooth toes of the feet of iron and clay.
To the child of true meaning these were the oscillating self-revealing self-concealing concealment at the top and base, a transcendence and transdescendence of being not Being, Ille-ity, “that man; he.” The territory of unregulated space, flares, torpedoes and dynamite dug a pit or two, but if you stick your feet in those pits you will get wet. All the king's horses cannot pull you out, but eventually the pits are filled in by the same engineers who turned the smoke from black to white to elect the Pope. But we’re only talking steam engines and blunt iron of industrial planes, cupreous and mudblack coalfish mined at night from jon boats. The 4th and 5th angels hail these “hairy hearts,” the “petrified hearts.” 4th: “And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe.” 5th: “And another angel came out from the altar, which had power over fire; and cried with a loud cry to him that had the sharp sickle, saying, Thrust in thy sharp sickle, and gather the clusters of the vine of the earth; for her grapes are fully ripe.”
Calling from the craters you hear the sound, but not where it comes from or where it goes: Pater ignosce, Father forgive them. All that is done in a weight of future glory to pay my debts with my bones I possess. Lead me, guide me along the way. Disruption out of everything was made steep on all sides. Of course it doesn't help that underground structures miles down have been built everywhere from the 80s on, honeycombed with transportation, trains, roads so civilized, the wild state implicit with what should not be said, voiced in the taurobolium, outlives its knowledge of the past. Casting these ruins in the capital of the new head in Seattle, the coincidence of numbers 33 with geographical parallels correlates for the Orcs with the I Ching, the Chinese language, the Mayan Calender, the Hopi Blue Star, Niburu, Richard Hoagland’s take on the Mars escapees, abductees on Iapetus, channeled and rechanneled gibberings of Isis, alarmed abductees, scientist lab rat bred hybrids and gov’t agents disinforming, or none of the above.
To know for sure go to ancient literature, to veracious Homer, Gilgamesh, Plato -- but finally go Old Testament Isaiah, Ezekiel, Job, Genesis, Psalms in amazement of Isaiah. Isaiah 53 read at every communion. Also read Isaiah 14 and find everywhere astonishing words. The end of Isaiah is like the last of Beethoven’s String Quartets, an incomprehension at the height of words. So it comes that leviathan, thought mostly as an image in Job 41, is a prophetic of eviathan. Leave off the L.
Bulls and bears, chicken, lion, eagle, and a man could interchange in these roles where geologics spin every proportion and property of the place. If passage tombs could talk, or rock, then the fish streams under clay spines, speak more. Kiss the Beast Government come up out of the sea, volcanic ash, reburied feldspar. At first a lion with eagle wings lifted from the earth and made to stand on its feet like a man with a human heart. The second a bear raised up on one side with three ribs in its mouth. The third a leopard with four chicken wings on its back and four heads put Colonel Sanders out of business. The fourth kingdom unlike the others covered the world and devoured them all. Ravenous epithets frag the mount. Programmable matter actuated display. Why anyone would live where the myths of super beasts attract danger from angels and cherubim, or further up the hill herds of behemoths were thought to roam, nobody saw any of them. From the sea inland behind the penetrating trough of rivers the most outlandish sea serpents swam out of the Odyssey and Laocoön. We omit the wasps but not the Taurobolium society had become. Immediately after, reporting the endless rebroadcast of seesaw Sacch'ry-down facts giving insight, came these partial occurrences.
Some of these old districts were called--Gateway to Heaven-
“a rural suburb below Jerusalem called Motza was actually a place called
Kolonia but referred to as motza—exempt.” And it's not as if they needed a
place to worship. The gods were all over Serapeum of Saqqara. Alexandria,
burial place of the Apis bull—combined geography, morality and prophecy as a
Taurobolium, sacrifice of a bull. The brazen bull of the Taurobolium also being
a metaphor of the bells and whistles of concurrent media crises. Covid- 19
virus, rioting cities, election frauds all fires set under the hollow bronze
bull, heating the metal until the prisoners locked inside were roasted to
death. Their cries translated through a system of tubes and stops into sounds
like the bellowing of an infuriated bull. Antipas, Bishop of Pergamon ordained
by the Apostle John during the reign of the Nero, was martyred in this Re:Set
of the Brazen Bull by being burned in a brazen bull-shaped altar when he cast
out demons.
How do Taurobolium, Behemoth and Leviathan involve this passion before being drowned and boiled on the Rhine? Of course flesh is not stone, not dug with steam shovels and shrunk, contracted to reveal springs when all that mass is taken, hidden springs, tree roots and strata, so it's hard to think unique to make a resonant chamber of the soul, each day carry down to the sea a little bucket of sand and bring back another of water to the shore, mold castles and shapes of the moon, if such a thing has shape. Each day the little bucket down digs out more solid shaping, to imagine in a hundred years accelerated, predestined times resonating in a chamber of the mouth, none other, inside the throat, in whose caves and nasal beauties live all sounds. Vowels, stops take seat in production of the soul. Ventriloquism by pseudonym, we should consider but a speaking through the present of the past.
This concludes those times in the cities of collective remembrance we call myth, called rehabilitation of myth. I have outlived my knowledge of the future, outlived the future and all its divinations. Living in 2 different dimensions we have to get a message to ourself.
If you have a sense of humor you’ll appreciate “the great gulf fixed.” between Lazarus and the rich man is like navigating the gulf of ancient cities as habitations of myth, but personally in their exploration, since all cities have undergrounds. An examination of Seattle is a example of the whole since it is one hell of a Lazarus counterpart to Satanic Florence in Dante where the fallen cosmos in human form takes the physical as an allegory of the spiritual world. Extending his notion, the Malebolge of those cantos of the Inferno (18-30) is correspondingly also the space surrounding earth, so the archeology is not all below. The ten ditches of learning represent the ten planets, if you think there are ten, but otherwise the ditches symbolize the malefactors who inhabit them, and any like them. The Seattle Empire of Bezos taught us this in its SIS Security International Systems, Inc. These were Amazon frequency weapon experiments on the homeless. Guards at Amazon acted as monitor eyes and ears of leviathan to transmit images to computers to ID each face entering. Cybernized cameras identify Seattle homeless for development of frequency weapons that experiment targeted individuals via SIS. Antarctica is also a counterpart to Seattle/Florence in later innings of this adventure in the New Philadelphia, to flesh out hell as a black hole in passages older than the most ancient of Sumer. I used to dream of these caverns as a child and traversed them too, but I also explored natural caves, Schoolhouse Cave especially, but it was a most wholesome experience compared to the Artifact Under. Of course it doesn't help that underground structures have been built miles down honeycombed with transportation structures, trains, roads, so civilized, unlike the wild state implicit with what should not be uttered, but which is voiced in the analogy and in the whole work, more or less in a finished state, awaiting pub.
Spinnstubes of our American moor, kunstmarchen spun speech concealed in old wives tales: they were first invented to distract children given to the Minotaur. We hardly see them any more. Fate drives the fando wheel of woolen thread to weave a present past and future between. The horror that spins those fingers on the spindle can never be quite pinned down.
Story tellers tell of tribes in coffee house and fireside to replicate the fab. They mutter the reprehensible stock phrase improvised in the education of the child. Texts not fixed branch off for the tale is not always the same. Literature unfixed floats about to imagine the peasant world. 35 Red Riding Hoods and 90 Tom Thumbs in succession hang on the wall. Those days they lacked the conveniences we all enjoy in a freezer. Therefore beware the devouring psychoanalyst who forms these apprehensions of human appearance.
For those adults who cannot stomach looking at themselves and their cooked up minds the joke of these stories means that whether Cinderella or Red Riding Hood, or SuzieQ there, a whole array of persecuted heroines is there to be restored from their perverted lives. These project upon the innocent a place in the universe that did not exist.
Stork and awe! No joke, ogres in bourgeois heads. Bratwurst galore. Two women battle over the body of the world, Step Dame and SueQ. self-absorption to grow until the myth actually, gigantically appears. Then Dame wants to liquidate SueQ since she grew her for food. And all this is the outer similitude of the inner war where appetite creates pop to burgeon and admire. If fairy tales were true and happened as they ought, then Turk would have been provided a wild boar as substitute and Sue not fallen prey to the art of crookery and preserves. But instead of some eternally beautiful art, patrician aesthetics ran wild. Dames' art displayed the fairest of them all all right, a gingerbread house and magic before that culture that tOOk the culture sophisticates. Snow White, SueLit, whilom you name, was obsessed by the wicked step in the absence of the King.
A Cow of dark and light has but two methods to preserve: a “society grown up among us, bred from youth in the art of proving by words multiplied for that purpose that white is black, and black is white, according to which they are paid” (Gulliver), or as the literary Bruegels would say, a new world remake appearing in the enemy ordinaire of fantastical forms, was set by this enemy in the familiar to paint these Pied Cow states in its new world. That is right out of Bosche.
Couched in dreamworlds of the everyday, of cosmic grotesque from the start, these gluttons, misers, quacks and libertines were replaced when our ravenous Ubernan appeared to quote upon the pied skin of our cow a universe whose memory cannot retain its past. O poor poor cow why sleepest thou on this fresh autumn day, you miss the daisies come to blink and the angels come to play. Thus Von Friedrich said the dreamworlds past of everyday hostilities created from the start, were of course his own. Forward therefore those enunciations, hail appoggiaturas, mordents and slur, let consonants break range, and color tone and pitch break registry, as in the uncanny that are hid. But beware those flashing eyes and floating hair fantastical whose forms and familiar bait to catch the Uberman.
Gluttons, misers, libertines and quacks replace
from the bottom, top and middle 'voice' a patchwork pillow-talk.
(whatever that means).
Some paunch may interrogate the anima of cow that “leaps about, to eat and rest, digest and leap about again from morn till night till dawn. A citizen may ask the cow, neither melancholy nor bored,: 'Why do you not speak to me of your happiness but only stand and gaze?' Spiritus Mundi’s only answer would say, “the reason is mine Herr, I always forget what I was going to say, but then I forget this answer too, and stand restrained.” If you ask how citizens of Pied Cow produce these thoughts they cannot remember. For when the time approaches and recollections based upon events reveal the mathematical structure to reprise our text, and choric reprise, head voice, heart voice, weight of vocal breath register, paint Pied Cow a new order windlass of the world. Hullabaloo! Caliche is a lot like ice if you just add water and slide.
Sue Lit, Snow White, whilom you know, obsessed by the wicked step dame in the absence of the King, in battle over the remains, the body of the world, gets all self-absorbed and myth begins to tell. Were fairy tales so true and happened as they ought, then Pop Turk would provide a wild boar. Then, instead of a beautiful object of art and patrician aesthetics, the girl could hold to the art of cookery and preserves. What artfulness then consumed Sue, would be the fairest of them all.
Do not mistake these reports fpr the whoppers that have been published under substitute covers. These burly effects are up on stilts and very tall. I pray with our Reader there, a good big kid who said there were holes in the air. I told him that Herr Nietzsche said he had been given consent.
Something like this is how the OOps got made into bears. Or maybe the bears were made into OOps. That’s the way of fairy tale. The detective, Lighthouse Dave, who had short hair spread out like a surfer of the solar minimum can be our Goldilocks to visit the OOps at home. All Sky Harbor detectives had made up names. Dave was called Lighthouse because not only had an aurora but he as tall as Connie Hawkins at the doubles net.
The first report said that the house was scorched and there had been a fire. Zoning was lax in the day. Hard crusted limestone covered the blackened chimneys. Tests are being done on the guano. The building was later condemned and boarded up. Citizens had boarded up entrances to the canal ditches to prevent further harm, but there was entrance from the sides. Five gallon buckets of motor oil were stored under the citrus trees.
It was a cool Tuesday morning when shards and streamers lit the sky. Robert Fludd would call it a fiery cross. A presage? Those incandescent streamers came up red from ignition at White Sands. Dave had been given a hybrid to drive. He called it a boiled egg for its hydrogen sulfide. If one’s relationship with a car is important to know, then this was a similar ride from his previous gig in Seattle. There they did call them an egg. Boiled eggs got eaten in lunches, and many on stakeout peeled the shell before reaching for the fiber bar. It makes us understand why Dave escaped for Phoenix, except the cars there were the same. Do not say chickens cannot come home to roost.
Quarrels about the egg aside, whether it be car or a chick first, the figure that holds the steering wheel to its chest emboldens this fiery cosmos. In Seattle this assumed a maternity of fire, egg and steering wheel with all three taken as a girl. That’s not saying only spheres, but spirals and breasts down the center, which irregularities are a good time to introduce the facet that Phoenix alone had embodied in a perfectly vegan automotive technology. The Arcos there had been converted to look like tomatoes. And not just, for a green pepper and an onion were at the pumps when Dave pulled up in his spinnstube. You can put glasses on this warp or take them off, but that’s how the city solved its motor crisis.
Dave was not just driving aimlessly, even if police in the cannabinol zone cannot always be sure where they are. Fairy Tale reports may come at any minute. Strange and unfamiliar eats and munchy, Johnny Cake devouring gingerbread uncontrolled may be prevented from devouring our land of house and home.
Dame OOps had had a break-in the previous night. Her incoherence made static on the phone, something about a missing bead collection, fare that might be addressed in a week, but there was nothing left to do. Dave drove the length of McDowell with green lights, past startups and thrifts, meat packers and secondhand furnitures, beauty parlors and diners serving huevos and frijoles. There was little trust in the chicken around, or the beef DNA burgersturimos. Straight McDowell runs right down the center, but there are two sides to every street. Steroes, endoscopies, tacos, Ollie Vaughn's eithiop, carnicerias, zumbas and tortas, and limos, plum repair, llanteras, bi-low dentist uniforms. Cross this section of the universe with lines where Pi x 33 is the gist. We will all be swearin’ by the sages to figure it out. But Dave was about to hit some red lights to slow that narrative down.
Travels of Uber Man
They came bending under the grapefruit tree. Sue landed on the berm that contained the flood. The yards in those days flooded to grow the fruit. which later presaged books in store. Our first draft went to the Times but only after appeared when Estevan cut off the head off for his truth. He said it could always be reattached. Round and round the body went, accreting Pop galore. Finally the body of Turk appeared in Frigg, how fit!, The Dame of Guapa Pop, head still unattached. So Susan, and Turk the father pop, became the purveyors of all that meant, for it was as large as that Step Dame. These are just the facts. The whole Myth as it went, was Sue at first but after that Turk. Step mom and Susan then had to live alone. They inhabited the Globe as a kind of summer home.
As far as acknowledgments go I first began to look at Ooks
the day after we moved to Pied Cow and the two ladies came over to holler. They
had to squat to pass under the lemon tree and ended up sitting on the berm used
to enclose the flood. There was no fence then. In those days the whole street
and most yards were flooded by waters to enable the citrus. The spectacle of
these two was amazing because they were precursors of all bonkedly bonks common
decades years later in every store. They were then so rare that when the first
drafts of the Ooks came out not even The New Times would take it and it only
appeared by accident after Esteban Coop cut the head off the body off and put
in that ten year anniversary issue. He said it could always be reattached and sent
round again. Round again, round again the Ooks have gone, accreting to
themselves all manner of Pop, realized in that wonderful title, The Dame of
Guapa Pop, which was the body reattached. So Susan, the epitome of Pop, and her
father Turk, became the purveyors of Pop, its publisher. But neither of
was as large as the putative step Dame, Damer. The whole family begged to be
called Myth, and so it went, but in fact there was no Turk. The two ladies
lived alone, where Jane was the mother and Susan the daughter. They inhabited
the Globe, meaning it was their kind of summer home. Do you know what it would
mean to display the inside out? OOk.
To summarize these moo calls back and forth in the array of one, Susan our heroine is the end of every dream. Where Uberman sails none dare neue Weltordnung. Such stuff should not be told. Our excuse that it was done a long time ago still holds. Considered in these decades, it ceases to aBide its time. Moocall is a tail-mounted calving sensor with GPS that enables a calving cow to send you an sms text alert before she calves.
The four corners of squeamish divine these Befallens who claim to be the pineal daughter of Chaldee. They open the gates of anima to her with a hooska and a metempsycowis which earned them a permanent home outside The Gated City of these matters that follow to the moon in half a hundred parts. We may call them the 50 states of being. All these factors of life outside the Gate inform the quest of Susan at her Google best, on her spiritual beast, to explore that principal with a tail in mouth.
But no need be pessimistic. This political matter that was once devulged as Europe, Asia and America is here embodied as Lady Caroline, Lady Cynthia and Dream Dorothy. America at the last became Dorothy who saddled up the best Terrible. If you think that’s part Tollcork, part St. John what have you, the Gorgon rider of electro-smog made the half life of a "cow of mind," develop its later work. Complete rosters of the parts produced in People Farm changed "pig to cow to man. These were the OOk-eating novels of mythic, political and religious mystery to thank for roofing our cattle and herding Sue SmOOke with Fairy Tale Fro Gromets into the ether of Google Stare.
But when The Pop Will Eat Himself as the linguistic franca of our Pop Surreal, the mutant X-Men of everyday or merely Pop evil without conscience as an entity, is the backstory of Turk and paramour epitomized in Pop Warhol. The inside out and the outside in era produced at last the epoch Eating ISue. To know what it would mean to display the inside out, just say OOp, or some say Ook, or Orc.
Who flew nude before the Flood? Remnants of Yaunty Leg made up the ninth episode of Ook, which, if you're that sort you may find inured at OOks! where one reposted up. First click Fictions, then click Contes, and if your finger holds out count to five and scroll down the bar at the immediate right of the text. Yaunty Leg is snug at the bottom. Who is Yaunty? Ooks are Pop so mix a batch and place the oven “ON.” Boil to the nubbin, parcel out the bone. Separate the commercial, things are not the same. Some ShOOk Purse with Charon sprinkled in. BOOk hoven Aesop, Wisdom ROOster and Microfiche might consider this a lens on reality of Chas Bonnet Syndrome, vivid, complex recurrent hallucinations of "lilliputian" characters in reverse, for Ooks are big. To know the terms, in other words the 3.0, microprint was also called Janga before it changed to Guap. The J and G are silent.
A herd of black and white mass consensus led by an Uberman-herdsman with a rope might be found anywhere Raggedly Ann, Dorothy Alice and Johnny Cake live. From Hoboken to Austin or beyond, the consensus as stated by the author of One and A Thousand Goats is that a hero must leave Pied Cow to find openness of things. Uberman’s travels began centuries before when Bosch and Breughel found lurking in haystacks and everyday life an enemy bent on destroying Susan and the world.
To account the progress from Nietzsche on we have two horns and two opposing sides. Our little double Taoed, Hegelian cow. But Culture down some more. Where a cow abides will not a boy? All lovers of this world astride the back of its wavering slope who call out India, astronaut, alien fix the bovine face. American eyes open, men and women, Europe with her mouth of black and white. We shall find countries in her as Sue scrambles to her feet, swings left, wavers right.
The subconscious and unconscious are results of the fall the fallen archetypes the nephs mean to continue the loss of human awareness. Filled with medusa, centaur, Leda, a further division occurs when the conscious demies what the uncon says hide fears and hopes mixed up together. This allows his control by suggestion. This means that all the types are anti types in effect are nemesis, Aquarius the universal tyrant. Some are more obvious than others.
In the cow mind every mothering thing goes, so if you say to the cow, moo, that’s because tomorrow the moo is gone into something like the public mind where you wear mask, then the next day don’t wear mask but will not remember the first, or the second, should here be a third or a fourth or a fifth and you see how far this can go.
No comments:
Post a Comment