I've already devoted copious blog space to the Disney beast, but have to include the following images. The first of which, is the perfect transition from Part I to this one, because whoever the "artist" may be, they chose to display the perpetrator as a three tentacled creature. One could deduce it's a logical trifecta, seeing the princess only has three orifices worth penetrating, but I'll argue, herein, 3 is sign-if-i-cant. Also, note the resident spirit (definition of djinn) has blocked the entrance and exit of the localized wormhole known as the human digestive system (a topic I'll be revisiting/expanding on in upcoming blog).

While I'd like to say nothing from Disney surprises me anymore (having examined the lurid depths they would sink to), I still did a double-take when waiting in the grocery check-out line, and seeing the above cover staring at me. Oh, how boldly they hint at the mind-control of Disney's tools at us. Zoom in on the image and judge for yourself whether the [red dress, pink circle, "exclusive"] "she's only 15" image doesn't seem like a promotion of said fact, and if any with a rational mind would assume the placement of the words "nude photo scandal" is coincidental. Oh, so many ways that Disney's tentacles twist the minds of the young.

The first time I explored the tentacle topic, a friend reminded me of another movie where the beast surfaced, Lord of the Rings:

Prompted by a comment I encountered in regards to said scene a long time ago, I'll have to agree, that while we are programmed to root for the protagonists, one has to realize, the beast in Fellowship of the Ring, was not to blame for the attack. It was laying peacefully at the bottom of the lake until one of the hobbits threw rocks into its home. If someone were to throw rocks into your home as you slept, who'd be to blame for the ensuing violence?

"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them." -- J.R.R. Tolkien

Reading the infamous quote from above film, note that it takes three rings for the "trap" to be complete. Speaking of rings, and reconnecting to the number of tentacles of the octopus, note the number 8 is composed of two rings. Dedroidify recently put out an amazingly throrough post related to permutations of the number 8 (would recommend reading now), and just in time for the 08/08/08 Olympics (i.e., the 29th olympiad, where 9 + 2 = 11, hence duality), which commenced at 08:08 PM. [Hm: That's five 8's and five rings! Far more than required by Tolkien.] Incidentally, I had published 88 posts on my blog as of said date. Without doubt, there is method to the madness we are being subjected to.

The first of the above images, is supposed to be an optical illusion. See for yourself: zoom in and stare at it, the rings are supposed to look like they're moving. [I didn't see it.] The Nazi hierarchy, were so steeped in the occult, nothing was chosen by chance. Their main battle tanks (considered the best of WWII), their artillery and even their anti-aircraft guns used 88mm shells. The Russians were developing 122mm guns on their tanks, even going up to 152mm on their self-propelled artillery units. So, why wouldn't the German's upgrade for more punch? Why not simply round up to 90?

The answer should be obvious. Note the HH (H is the 8th letter in the alphabet, and I suspect the "bridge between" two I's), Heil Hitler, Heinrich Himmler (arguably, one of the true powers behind Hitler) connection to 88. Anyway, point made. One of the main reasons I am convinced the Adolf Hitler was a traitor/plant put inside Germany to destroy it, aside from the results, is that while exercising occult precision during his rise to power, once in total power, he proceeded to root out and kill the occultists, even launching military campaigns at the worst times of planetary alignment. A topic for another blog I guess.

Back to tentacles for a spell, here's a scene from Dagon, where the brother was about to couple with his lovely long-lost sister, until the startling discovery of her lower torso hidden under the sheets. Nothing new here bro. Been done before:

Refrain from judging. The story, like much of the Bible, is meant to be symbolic. Not to be taken literally. As I discussed earlier, do we really have even the faintest idea of what we truly look like? The mirror, by definition (see Part I), lies to us and deceives us. If the universe is indeed Holographic, then a holographic mirror would prevent us from even seeing each other as we really are.

A cock of sorts, and a "suspected octopus," per my original tentacle journey, queues in to help us fathom the absurd (Roby Hitchcock's "Flesh Cartoons," from the aforementioned EyE album):

"Life's a movie, Life's a dream
I love you, baby, Things are always what they seem"

"Loony, oh loony, oh loony, oh loony, oh"

I can now argue the movie Dagon has EVERYTHING to do with the events we see unfolding around us presently. {*1} Duality is rooted in Gemini, the twins. Below, we see them again. Rather than join his other half (in sexual congress, marriage), and recognize his true self (his genealogy is of fish-creatures, like hers), he immolates himself. The sis below, rushes to save him.

Save him she does, taking him with her down the well. He awakes, reborn, having stepped through the water door, finding he can indeed breathe under the water of life. The phoenix has risen from the ashes. He unites with his beastly twin, in love, societal prejudices and antagonism removed. Together they hold hands and swim towards the great eye (I). Is this an alchemical wedding of sorts?

The subsequent above image, again shows the prorogation of themes through subconscious transplantation. On the topic of the universal unconscious, the below image from the Residents ties into an infamous trio I brought up earlier: Shadrack, Meshack, and Abednego. The surface story is that King Nebuchadnezzar threw those three I's into the fiery furnace, because they wouldn't bow before his God.

However, as I heard Jim Marrs comment once, you really need to read between the lines on this Biblical tale. The reason the king put them into this "furnace" is that they were mystics who held ancient knowledge of its inner workings. Reading the passages, it goes into great detail about how they donned their special/sacred "garments." Were they putting on their anti-radiation clothes? Is that why they were the first to survive the "fiery furnace," while others died at its entrance?

While working inside the furnace, the trio was soon joined by another being. A creature from another dimension unlike themselves? Is this the archetype the Residents were tapping into above? Any other translation makes little sense, and I'm sorry for you literally-bound Christians and Jews. "God" didn't protect them from some kind of normal fire. He's had plenty of opportunities to save Christ's followers (think Rome and Nero) or his chosen people (think Holocaust, i.e., "burnt offering") since and not been so inclined. Will accept, however, the literal translation image (above right), resonates strongly with the phoenix metaphor.

An elven visitor to my site recently informed me, Lovecraft's intention was always that the Old One, aka the great Cthulhu, would be represented with three eyes. [¿As are we?] Perhaps the Residents serve up that hint as well. Why does the physical not correlate with the eternal? The below images, served up alongside the oft-repeated movie phrase, "life will find a way," suggest sometimes it [life] tries.

Another extremely significant feature of the number 8 is that when you place it on its side, you get the infinity symbol (∞). Syncing back to Galaxy Quest (1999), Tim Allen, also did the voice of Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story. What has his catch prhase? "To infinity and beyond."

Another, is that eight is the first cube of a number after 1, i.e., 1 cubed equals 1 (the singularity) itself. Thus, 2 (duality) cubed equals 8. Turn that over in your head a few times, cause we'll come back to it. For now, the two images of infinity below are worthy of meditation. The first does conjure up a tentacular realm, while the latter makes the connection between cubes and the great infinite beyond.

Now would be the time to put on your mental seat-belts. Things are about to get real "interesting." [I'm not going to say "weird," cause things don't get any weirder than octopus sex.] According to Gematria [note the tria, Greek for three], a system of mystic Hebrew Numerology, the word "Jesus" decodes to 888.

Also, as Dedroidify pointed out, 888 is also known as the Lion's Gate (not sure if I follow linked person's logic, but found it intriguing she said the tetrahydron, i.e., 3 sided pyramid, was key). There are many Lion's Gates worth exploring, but the one I'd like us to contemplate for the moment is the one Jesus the Christ walked through from prison to execution/ascension.

As to the second image, I'm not sure why I found a road marker for a Route 888 that may or may not actually exist in Maryland. There is a bus route of that number, but I chose this image over others, as it synchs with Christ's mother, which I discussed in The Butterfly Legend (and who the worship of is definitely related to a particular hole/ring). There is a Route 888 in Israel, which may or may not be significant, in case anyone more familiar with Hebrew may wish to look into.

What I did find while looking for above, was noteworthy: at 888 Bestgate Road in Maryland, you'll find a slew of radiologists [¡chaos insignia!], ready to expedite the process of you shedding your mortal coil. Note the subtle eye/pyramid hint. Oh, and of course, this "beautiful" and "advanced" death facility is located in Suite 101. The universe has fulfilled its obligation. You have been warned. Enter at own peril. {*2}

Going back do Dagon for a moment, the undersea eye [¿I?] which I mentioned earlier (the one the Gemini twins swam towards at the end), does resemble two unif-eye-d Jesus fish. Hm, let's come back to that! Of some humorous value, was the locals destroying all the Catholic icons in their small town, to replace them with those of the Dagon cult. Anyone's who's bothered researching the symbology behind Roman Catholicism (as this Red Ice article has done), should realize such an act would be superflouous, for they are basically one and the same.

As I prepared to go clubbing on Thursday night, with 08/08/08 fast approaching, an e-mail from a reader said I hit on something important in the James Cameron's 3D quote (from a prior writing). I had already been pondering the significance of the upcoming date, but had been looking at it two-dimensionally. So, that night, instead of chasing hole (seeking to feed my primary tentacle), I sat in the club alcove with a pen and flyer paper, scratching out this mystery.

888, does add up to 24 numerologically, but that doesn't really tell us anything (though, Jim did say "24 frames per second in 2D mode"). Looking at the date, and computing from left to right, we get 8 divided by 8 divided by 8, which is 1, the singularity. We already know there are 64 squares on the grand chessboard, where per my new header image, those who would be masters play their game of domination and mankind are mere pawns. So, cubing the cube, expands our thinking into 3D mode, to match our perceived reality of existence, and we end up with a matrix of 512 squares cubes.

The most famous "cube" in modern history is undoubtedly Rubik's, which was, in fact, a puzzle. Those who've seen the Hellraiser series, will surely recognize the puzzle cube used by the nefarious and innocent alike to open the "gates" of hell. Sounds like a scare tactic to me. Perhaps, understanding the cube, can lead us to opening a "lion's gate" of sorts instead?

The last image may be the most appropriate, as I'm suspecting this matrix we are trapped in, is in fact, a cuboid structure. What I found really compelling, was this quote from a page devoted to Fred Holly, the inventor of the Rubik's cube:

"As the Cube craze subsided, boxes of cubes began to appear in thrift shops. We scooped up just as many as we could find. He expanded the patterns using 64 cubes. My mother tells me that he wanted to create a pattern using 512 cubes, but regretfully, that wasn't to be."

There's a building called "The Cube" in Dubai (do watch intro vid), where all sorts of deeply occult structures are being erected. Hence, we now sync back to the muddy waters stirred up in Lord of the Rings. Recalling Atlantean Times (I'll resist labeling him, as he is the one blogger I've encountered more averse to belonging to any group than this rebel) prior post Dubai may be the new Mordor, I'll now recommend seeing these structures while you can, before the final cornerstone is laid. As Tolkien forewarned us, "One does not simply walk into Mordor."

The second above image is from the set of a movie I'm about to get into, but to me hints at another often overlooked "reality:" corporate cubicle culture. Those who've a deeper understanding as to why things happen, instead of relying on others to form their opinion, could logically conclude that there was purpose (beyond surface cost-cutting) into turning the Corporate workplace into cubicle city. There is an undeniable dehumanizing effect. [Some may have caught this video. Words not necessarily applicable.] That is precisely the idea!

Sitting in that alcove, I recalled a series of movies seen long ago, Cube and Cube Zero (the former of, incidentally won 13 awards). The plot of the movies is that some people wake up inside a large cube, and subsequently discover themselves trapped in a maze of cubes. Eventually, they realize they are prisoners, not expected to figure their way out of the complex (of cubes). Many of the cubes are booby trapped (grisly deaths abound) and to put a Rubik's twist of complexity on their near hopeless endeavor, the cubes move around (i.e., change positions).

The first of the films was allegedly made by some independent film company out of Canada. As I once contemplated before, and am investigating in another upcoming article, the phrase "independent cinema" is kind of a joke. Are you ready for this: the films are made by Lion's Gate. Feel free to contact the company yourself, but regrettably, they don't have an 800 number. They have an 888 number.

There was one film of the series I had not seen, the middle one, Cube 2: Hypercube. Hence, I had to watch it before I finished this article. In the first film, there were 17,576 [adds up to 26, which reduces to 8] rooms, i.e., 26 [2+6=8] cubed. In the final one, the prequel, the number of rooms was reduced to 25. Hypercube added the dimension of time, and magnified the number of cubes to a theoretical 60 million. Worth a mention, at the end of the film, the protagonist realizing the cubic reality construct was about to collapse upon itself, escapes to come out in this dimension immersed in water (¿the water door?) {*3}

Now, while contemplating the number of cubes "out there" (a meaningless phrase in a quantum world), remember, these are just film makers. And, you should know by now, NO ONE, is obliged to TELL YOU the truth (assuming they even know it), but the universe might. The most important lesson I learned from the entire series, was that the only prisoners who even had a remote chance of escaping the cube, were ones well-versed in mathematics.

Personally, I think Lucas was tapping into a universal truth. Something about the 512 number resonates strongly with me. Were we to try and account for time as simply another dimension, then our reality matrix would have 4096 cubes (8 to the 4th power). Coming back to the two fish becoming one, adding the "Jesus" [888] to the "Christ" [1480] (i.e., combining the spiritual and the material], we get 2368. Both 4096 and 2368 reduce to 19 (XIX). [Note, that XIX is but a piece of an infinite puzzle, a base key which could be used to construct limitless possibilities.] In the Tarot deck, that is the Sun Card, which represents enlightenment, and considered by many to be the "best" card to pull from the deck.

Found an interesting page with some relevant 19 syncs from the Quran. Do I have the answer to how many cubes comprise our reality matrix? No. But, I believe I am on the right path. Another very important lesson gained from watching the Cube movies: working together also radically increases your chances for survival/escape. So, feel free to comment, explore further, post your own articles on topic. As the movie Brazil queued us, "We're all in it together man."

My head swimming in mathematical permutations, old wisdom suggests returning to simplicity. So, back to my primal tentacled beast. Those who read my Shall We Play a Game, may recall the bizarre Wal-Mart commercial confusing Optimus Prime with Octopus Prime. I guess others have confounded the two before, as the 1st image (from the Mermaid Parade), and the 2nd (from the mind of a child) imply:

Something tells me that when a child speaks, we should listen. Prime does imply a numeric quality, does it not? Returning to OctoPi, and for whatever it's worth, I'll point out that Octo (Greek for eight) times ∏ (Pi) = 25.1327412, which is approximately the number of cubes in the final cube movie. Did the Lion's Gate math team take the same circuitous path from complexity to simplicity as well?

Of course, in the recent Transformers movie (another winner of 13 awards), the cube called the "Allspark" played a central role. The Allspark bears an uncanny dual-purpose functionality, similar to both the Omega 13 and the Venture "orb" discussed in Part I of this article. Pulling us back into a multi-tiered complexity is wikipedia's page on the Transformer's cube:

"The Allspark fragments recovered by the Autobots were later used to restore Omega Supreme to life. They are currently presumed lost after Omega sacrifices himself to close the Decepticon Space Bridge."

In one of the Cube series, there was a "bridge" room; the portal to the outside world (i.e., the only means of escape). Those who read my musings on I am Legend (incidentally, based on the Omega Man), will recall the "rainbow bridge," is our own path to transcendence, our only way out of this place. Are forces behind the Transformers programming the minds of youth into destroying their one way out?

But, there is a cosmic force that demands balance (¿a universal law?). The answer to the above question is a resounding "yes." But, for every 8 minds that get entrapped, at least 1 will pick up on liberating hint planted at the end of the last movie (spoken by Octopus Prime), or the subconscious hint of the shadowy BoBBy Bolivia (played by number-syncing Bernie Mac) standing at the Lion's Gate (above):

"We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret, waiting, protecting. I have witnessed their capacity for courage, and though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eye."

I would be doing us all a disservice by not taking this cube exploration into the teachings of a master mathematician (and philosopher, i.e., friend of wisdom), Plato. His Five Perfect Solids associates the cube with earth (which now, finally makes perfect sense to me), and reminds us it has 8 vertices. Read up on the Tetrahydron as well, which is associated with fire (recall the phoenix), impresses the significance of the 3 further and most importantly, "is dual to itself."

Reflect for a moment, on the shape of an unfolded cube. Hint: think of the 8 and infinity. Now, take a deep breath, and look at the second image below. Before you read any further, make your best guess as to what that picture represents:

From the mouths of babes comes wisdom: "It's an octopus in a cage on an island." Wow! Does that not describe our predicament to a tee? {*4} Sometimes, after learning my self-explorations offer more answers than any amount of reading may, I wonder if we are born complete, with all the answers we need, only to have education / indoctrination, television and our peers beat all the answers out of us. Think about the deleterious effects of the following words: "a figment of your imagination," "that's just crazy, man," "conspiracy theory," and the worst of them all, "only coincidence!"

To give the mind a break, I'm going to temporarily return to the material. Those who are in need of an Octopus Porn break, take one. [Be forewarned, you'll never be able to look at Raggedy Anne the same again.] A new movie is coming out based on yet another old comic book, The Spirit (made by guess who? Lion's Gate). [Oh, and it will be released on ChristMas. You just can't make this stuff up.] Saturnian SamuEL EL Jackson, will be playing the villain, appropriately (or inappropriately from our new perspective) named "The Octopus:"

Since we're precariously back at the baser chakra levels, I'll demonstrate how one of the Spirit's villains, the Man-Eater (above) is not so coincidentally pictured with her heart (i.e., vagina) open. Not that I can relate in any way, but several women tell me that chocolate cravings and menstruation are intimately linked. Science seems to concur. {*5} I'll just surmise the box's contents are fitting. [After I wrote last sentence, couldn't help but notice how loaded last few words were.]

Aside: Come to think of it, may have spent too much time in the alcove pondering mathematical constructs, and little towards my lovelife. [That, on the other hand was meant to be loaded.] Balance, it is important. As one of my readers (Sedulis Xu) recently reminded me, sexual union does produce a temporary [hopefully, for you ladies out there, not too temporary] octopus of sorts: a two-headed eight-legged beast. I could go one step further and sync the union back to XIX. [Think about that one.]

Break-time is over, time to bend the mind a little again. The ultimate god of Royal Arch Freemasonry, and Aleisteir Crowley's OTO is often depicted with the body of a spider and three heads (¿recall the 3-eyed spider on the dollar?) Those heads are Yahweh, Baal and Osiris, which produce the united beast/god Jahbulon. The masonic "as above, so below" creed, would seem to overtly apply to 8, 88, and 888. As the follow-up image reveals in a multitude of ways, what we've discovered here is ancient, and presumably gaurded knowledge (check out Box of Woes):

"There truly is nothing new under the sun," and "no amount of darkness can vanquish even one point of light." [The first is Ecclesiastes. I can't recall who said the latter.] As I said at the beginning of this set of articles, the universe is speaking to us. Listen closely. Don't dismiss the subtleties of its language.

Before Jim Henson got involved with children's programming, he made a television production called The Cube back in 1969. Despite its dated nature, and the mediocre acting, it's definitely worth a view. The plot is about a guy who is trapped in a single cube. People come and go from his cube, but he does not know how to leave it. [Found a review, which presently includes the entire movie: runtime is 53:33] I was only able to find a few images of it online, but one was all I needed:

I told you we'd revisit Bob Dylan before this was over (yea, I know, Heath Ledger, who played The Joker, and Bob Dylan aka "the Jester," connects to everything). The lines of dialogue are NOT from Henson's movie, but what other caption is even remotely possible with the above image? Madman Salvador Dali had obviously also tapped into some universal truth with his painting on the left.

I have to stress, that I am not advocating death as a means of escape. Remember what I said about following a new fool back to ground cube zero? Those who've had near death experiences talk of the warm beaconing light. How do we know that light isn't there by design, meant to pull us right back into the virtual matrix we just left? Were I the architect of a multi-level trap, I'd scheme of such a logical ploy.

"We gotta get out of this place" indeed. I hope I've stimulated some of you to start / continue thinking outside the box. What you may be feeling presently, are my tentacles twisting inside your mind. Believe me, I'm not saying that from an ego-centric perspective; a good number of you who read this, have returned the favor, your tentacles reaching into my own. I've credited where I can, but undoubtedly, some of these words are imprints of other's visits inside my own head. Ideas and thoughts, when not hierarchical, can be wonderfully contagious. {*6}

At the beginning, I complained of how when we seek the conspiratorial dominating octopus beast, we end up with more questions than answers. I know I've raised many a new question herein, but wish to also leave you with an answer. I've looked within and found the tentacled beast within me. I will not slay my adversary. For I now realize, he fears me, as much as I had been programmed to fear him. Instead, I will embrace him (turning fear into love). I will join with him, so that we are one.

If we ever hope to find a way out of here, the universe is telling me that is a crucial first step.

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*1: I had already used the word unfolding prior to seeing ViolatoR's comment in response to Part I. Hence, am including a link explaining one multidimensional theory of existence. [LB]

*2: The history of radiation treatment is quite fascinating (and disgusting). I think it was Eustace Mullins I first heard tell the story behind the Sloan-Kettering death expediting centre. I touched on the subject in regards to Vacci-Nation. Regardless: if you seek radiation treatment for you or your loved ones, you .. well, I'll save the expletives ... have chosen your method of demise. [LB]

*3: Jake Kotze and Steve Willner have mentioned the water door regularly: here's one on-topic post. Worth the study time: a good resource on crop circle formations, which goes into the mathematics of Hypercubes and Metatron's Cube. Hidden Agendas recently synced with my writing this, looking into Virtual Reality constructs (I chose the latter word intentionally, note Michael chose to use the word "bridge" in his title). [LB]

*4: A tee? A T? A "T" is half a ∏ (pi). Having spent some time delving into the mystics / wizards use of sygils, I'm wondering at the curious spelling of the name of the infamous MohaMed ATTA. Was he the keystone of the whole 911 ritual? Recall IBM's (a company steeped in occult tradition) early computer the IBM AT? I smell a new blog cooking. [LB]

*5: I am trying to stay on track here, really. Found it interesting, the Mayans, among other cultures, considered Chocolate to be the "food of the gods." Michael Tsarion, and some other researches, talk of the Nephilim's desire to mate with the human females (the Greek Olympians were rather obsessed with it as well). As far as I'm concerned, Lloyd Pie's proven, that human chromosome pairs (unlike those of any other creature on this planet) were fused for some reason. Was chocolate devised as some kind of compensation for the resulting effects on females? [LB]

*6: A commenter mentioned the Hellboy II movie, which I had not seen to date. Caught it last night. It's go so much I've talked about in this blog and others: tentacles, elves, mind-flayers, red and blue color imagery, an earth elemental, a fish-man, a ring, Gemini twins, and more. Didn't have the time to include it, so it'll definitely require its own write-up. I was going to publish this tomorrow, 08/18, but couldn't resist putting it out on 08/17/08 @ 11:00 PM (23:00 hours). My own attempt at Wizardry. :-) [LB]

Adesso ho limato qua e là, trasformato un dialogo impossibile se svolto via messenger in una conversazione telefonica (questo intendevo per "ma cosa mi combini, Lara?"), ammorbidito l'eccesso di nozioni. Dal capitolo undici in  poi, quando cominciano i guai seri nella trama, torno ad essere abbastanza soddisfatta. Vi voglio bene, per inciso!

Così, stamattina mi sono fatta trascinare dall'amica barista a mangiare in un piccolo ristorante sui monti. Una meraviglia. Alberi e poi ancora alberi e un paio di falchi e le solite mucche sagge. Chiacchieriamo, mangiamo e fumiamo, osservando con aria perplessa uno dei pochi tavoli disponibili apparecchiato per sette, ma senza traccia di commensali. Strano, perchè il ristorantino è molto ambito, e in genere si prenota almeno due giorni prima.
Quasi alle tre, arrivano i ritardatari, cacciando via tre vecchietti che si erano accomodati a prendere l'ombra. Milanesissimi, e fin qui non ci sarebbe niente di male. Però non si presentano proprio bene. I cinque maschietti in bermuda ultra-stra-firmati, le due fanciulle in tiro stellare: orecchini lunghi, trucco da copertina e, ohi ohi, tacchi a spillo. Io e l'amica barista ci sentiamo subito due asparagi in una serra di orchidee, con le nostre scarpacce da ginnastica, i jeans e i capelli arruffati dal vento.
Ma pazienza.
Poi, uno dei cinque accende un sigaro. Ora, io amo moltissimo il tabacco: mi piace il suo sapore, il suo odore, persino il gesto del tenere la sigaretta fra le dita. Mi piace il profumo della pipa. Mi piace tutto, ma non i sigari. Basta uno sbuffo di fumo di sigaro e mi viene da vomitare. E poi, sarò scema, ma trovo volgarissimi gli uomini col sigaro toscano: neanche i mafiosi messi in caricatura da Quentin Tarantino starebbero bene con un toscano fra i denti. Paranoie mie, eh.
Il vento, crudele, mi crea intorno una nuvoletta di fumo.
Pazienza di nuovo.
Poi, però, un altro dei cinque comincia a parlare di quanto è figo il Kenya. E di come la carne che si mangia a Nairobi non sia paragonabile a quella italiana. Poi, un altro ancora risponde esponendo in dettaglio i suoi guadagni recenti. Poi, le risatine delle due signorine con i tacchi diventano così alte che io e l'amica barista siamo divorate dalla tentazione di afferrare la pompa per innaffiare abbandonata vicino a noi e commettere gavettonaggio pubblico.

Per fortuna, in una pausa di silenzio, l'amica barista non si trattiene più. "Uè, figa", esclama, in perfetto romeno-meneghino. I sette rimangono a bocca aperta. Noi, piegate in due per le risate, scappiamo verso le mucche sagge.
Ahhh. Questa è vita.

For one, it is reaffirming to know the universe speaks to us continuously, whether it be through Tesla's aether, or what Bohm referred to as nonlocal connections. How and why, in my opinion, is immaterial. What is important, is learning how to listen. Two, certain recent [towering] events (notably the potentially WWIII instigating situation in the KauKasus mountains, and the kickoff of the dehumanist [mount] Olympics, threatened conspiring to redirect my focus back to the realm of fear, but have taught me there is a pathway (a circular one, I'd suspect) one could follow to elevate one's self to a higher realm, by first deflecting the neural pathways into the lower regions.

When looking outwards and upwards, trying to move one's self from a mind of ignorance to one of awareness, you will inevitably face the great beast. That beast, is the conspiratorial octopus, whose multiple tentacles, have penetrated almost every aspect of our lives; from science, to religion, to the "arts" themselves. The closer you get to the head of the octopus, the more your ratio of answers than questions increases. [Found the first image on a site showing the extent of the reach of a multi-tentacled beast innocuously known as the NCAA.]

One could deduce the beast/creature is also a Hydra, and should one get too close to any of the heads (as two of the authors involved in the above book, Danny Casolaro and Jim Keith, may have), you risk being put to the sword yourself. Rather than risk that route personally, I'll opt instead to vibrate at a lower frequency for the time being. As I deduced last time I contemplated the octopus theme: phalli and tentacles are connected at so many levels, they can, in many ways, be considered one and the same.

Looking at the last of the above images (a depiction from the Biblical tale of Shadrak, Meshak and Abendigo: three names / extensions that will arise again before this is over), it should be clear that phallus worship (disguised as monotheism), predates most known forms of Octopus worship, or any group of Japanese men having a wank at images of tentacles penetrating the innocent. From such a perspective, whether you're the monogamous type, preferring one penis per orifice of your preference, and one God to serve/please over many, or polytheistic and polyandrous, fantasizing/fearing the rape of many tentacles, is moot.

Being a creature born with one penis, I can attest to considerable personal energies being spent thinking of, or in the course of pursuing, couplings for my own tentacle. The thought of having many such appendages, would seem unfeasible not accounting for a quantum expansion in mental processing capacity. Hence, as I sit at my computer, resisting baser distractions which naturally tug at me while vibrating at this lower frequency, I push my focus lower, going within, into the depths of my own universe, to contemplate the symbolic meaning of my octopus.

This journey (which I alluded to at the beginning), began the first day of the month honoring the man who would be God, Augustus. At a friend's house, awaiting to go out, Galaxy Quest (a movie I had seen before, when my eyes were nary open) was on the television. The aliens in the film (pictured above), called Thermians, cast a reflection of themselves as normal humans. However, when they were subjected to torture (i.e., pain) or aroused sexually, their true nature was revealed.

Looking at Webster's Code Book, we see reflection defined as: "an instance of reflecting; especially: the return of light or sound waves from a surface." Digging deeper, we find that reflecting means "to turn into or away from a course: "deflect," or "to prevent passage of and cause to change direction; e.g., a mirror reflects light." We could go far deeper, but for now, it'd be a fair assumption, that the mirror may not be the best place to look if we want to find out who we are. We'll reflect on this further, in part two.

Above, we see one of the Thermians, in a state of increasing sexual arousal. Her tentacles have come out and are enveloping her human mate. Another human walking in on them was a little disturbed at the sight, as I suspect we would all be naturally. However, taking a look at the devilicious photo of the same actress, Missi Pyle, I'd have to confess, I'd be hard-pressed to deny her a proper shagging.

But, I'm not gonna turn this blog into a list of girls I'd like to shag (though I had been wondering, during times of frustration/introspection, whether the end-result might matter). There's a plot element in the movie, of a device called the "Omega 13," which is capable of either destroying the universe, or rewinding time by 13 seconds. As for the Omega, it wasn't too long ago I learned that the Omega was framed on the one dollar bill: {*1}

Also, note the 8 legged spider, and keep in mind it has three eyes (for part ii). The occult significance of the number 13 is near endless, so aside from pointing out it's an oft-repeating feature of "the bill," I won't get into all the permutations here. What I will stress however, is that the letter Omega is the 24th and final letter in the Greek alphabet.

Hence, an argument could be put forth that the Omega 13 (of Galaxy Quest) is a "reset" button. And, based on the present near-hopeless state of us (humanity), one has to wonder if a restart is the best option (thinking of the Matrix and such).

On Sunday (8/3), I settled in to my own routine, to watch the Venture Brothers (a show which merited it's own prior blog), and I caught me favourite character, Brock Samson say something like "or they may come at us in some kind of Octopus like tentacle thing that shoots lasers out of it's eyes." [Can't recall specific words.]

Tying Brock further into themes explored herein, are the above series of pics showing us he (a) is in fact a man among men (hence, we can assume connected the color purple), (b) is not adverse to sexual congress with marine life (the water metaphor, plus this scene was from a hallucination he had while doing a DMT type substance among shamans/occultists), and (c) has been assigned a tentacular clearance level ("8"). The most recent episode came on this Sunday night (08/10) after I had already started writing this article. In order to try and get this down today, I'll resist the urge to fully explore said episode (it may require a write-up of it's own, but will strongly suggest it is a "must-see" for any synchronaut).

The topics addressed were (a) a mysterious "orb" that has two uses (one unknown, the other could collapse the universe upon itself), (b) Nikola Tesla aligned with a faction, that was battling against another which included Aleister Crowley, (c) Crowley being murdered and made fun of, (d) high-ranking agent Brock being told that even he is but a mere pawn in a game he is incapable of understanding, and (e), I kid you not, contained humorous examples of discovering and misinterpreting synchromystic clues, including a tip on deciphering Webster's dictionary.

The crown on Brock's badge, not only shows us who controls these intelligence / mercenary agencies, but synchs us to another of "her majesties" operatives Ian Fleming, and his tool of disinformation/revealing, James Bond. {*2} The not so subtle Octopussy title, not only connects us back to the world-control seeking Octopi, but tentacle sex/porn. You don't have to be an occultist to notice the blatant penis imagery: be it the powerful rocket flying out of Bond's loins, the handjob suggestive layout of her hand with the "grip" positioned where the [purple] head of his manhood should be, or how every single woman in the third image is touching the penis obelisk (again, one's hand suggestively holding the "neck").

Aside: Found a strange tribute made 17 years later (2000) named Inside Octopussy. My first thought was, "Gee, what 13 year old boy named that one?" But, there was planning/reason behind this "exposé." It was filmed at the Berlin Wall and ran 33 minutes. Let's not forget the villain in the movie was Kamal Kahn! Capping it off, when I looked on IMDB today, found this bizarre section: "MOVIEmeter: 8% since last week why?" {*3}

The last image (above) is highly suggestive, with a titillating near revelation of the vulva through the see-through fabric. The 13 "Bonds," along with the revelation this is the 13th movie in the series, gives us yet another solid synch between the number 13, the number 8 and this multi-tentacled monster we're exploring herein.

The last event which prompted this journey, was finding the movie Dagon, shortly after Brock's "gentle nudge." Reading the comments on someone else's blog [BTW: they can be a great source of information, so if you're not in the habit of reading comments, get into it] a person going by anadæ recommended the movie (based on one of H.P. Lovecraft's writings). As I've come to expect from the synchrosphere [¿can I call it that?], between said comment and my writing this, Dedroidfy found a thorough site with all books Lovecraft (online). [On a sad note {*5}]

The above scenes are from the sacrifice ritual from Dagon. Beyond mere nudity, the scenes (a) hint that blood serves a purpose to lure the beast (hence, she was cut prior to being offered), (b) show the victim being lowered into the pit/well, where the god/octopus first squirts her with his oily discharge, and (c) most importantly, after her [ahem!] "disney moment," she is now dangling above the pit, so that the beast has to arise from the depths beyond the well to consume her.

Dagon's images also take us back to the arena of tentacle rape, a world which I didn't even know existed prior to undertaking first exploration of octopus them. [It would seem there are many fans: don't miss this comment.] In the odd news category, also found this bizarre story: Octopus sex man avoids jail, which though misleading (insinuating Octopus sex was his crime), offers up this useful nugget: "McLagan's self-esteem was so low he equated himself with a beast." Speaking of "the beast" (another moniker for Crowley), be sure to read the above exchange between Beast Boy and his friend / love-interest / soon-to-be victim.

While some would speculate that the internet gave rise to octopus porn culture, the 1934 cover of Spicy Adventures (see library of covers) would suggest otherwise. The theme has been with us since I don't know when and I'm beginning to surmise, inexorably connected to who and what we are. Whether pop culture is perpetuating the idea consciously, subconsciously or unconsciously would be a matter of great (and perhaps, trivial) debate. As you can see above, even Marvel Comics got in on the act. [Any Briton who cares to tell me whether the last above image is a joke or not, is welcome to comment.]

Subsequent looks at Futurama's Beast with a Billion Backs (covered in prior blog, and in detail by Hidden Agendas) convince me that while metaphoric and extremely clever, the main plotline of the movie is tentacle sex. The cover, featuring the most sexual character of the series, attests to that. My only question is whether the conspicuous location of (or even reason for) the V light behind her is a subtle nod to those not anally inclined, as to which orifice of Leila's the tentacles are intent on permeating. [For those interested in the grisly answer as to whether Leila got penetrated, see Quentin Tarantino, You Suck).

Aside: I'm sure this is just coincidence (one of the few), but I found it interesting that both IMDB's Futurama's BBB and Inside Octopussy entries have a "V" next to the date. V for Vaginal penetration???

The subsequent image (above) is the art-work of a young fan, which strongly supports my argument about the passing of memes. This was obviously not a conscious effort, but note the placement of the sole tentacle, Frye's tonque out in [oral] anticipation, the pink hearts (i.e, vaginas) and white swirls on background (¿along with upside-down male genitalia?) and lastly, the pronounced [¿engorged?] hearts in place of his eyes, indicating the confusion of carnal lust, as flowery love.

Coninuing to resonate at this lower frequency, we find actual photographs of real people, ranging from hack amateur to professional photographs, of the sexual connection between Octopus and the self being repeated. The placement along the genitalia (or, lower chakras) could speculatively be seen as natural, but the center image is the one that grabs my attention the most.

In particular, I'm fascinated by the centering of the core/mouth (¿third eye?) of the Octopus directly over the heart (chakra). But, before I look deeper in the well, let me apologize for the mental rape I've subjected you to (yes, that man is wearing a bra). If you want to take this journey with me, you've got to come all the way.

The most eye-opening scene in Dagon [for me], was one where the protagonist was dreaming (i.e., with his third eye) {*4} of this lovely girl [who he, the protagonist, was unaware was actually his Gemini twin he was fated to join]. As they prepare to kiss and "couple" (I normally try not to use the word shag more than once in article, though the actress to the left was also quite shaggable ... oops, that's thrice now), he [and we] suffer from following shock (¿or revelation?)

The first image (one just discussed), on its own would imply little. However, the next one, shows the protagonist's father, exposed after her removes his mask (made of human skin). A few humans were skinned in the film (too graphic, hence I'll spare you), and the suggestion was the practice was tradition. The Greek word "apocalypse," as many of you may already know, literally translates to revealing by lifting the leather veil/covering. Have I stumbled into an apocalyptic truth herein?

At the beginning of this article, I discussed the Octopus of our "us versus them" world. It is a terrifying beast, and we've been instilled with a fear to constantly be on our guard, because it may be lurking around every corner to get us/subvert us/rape us. [btw: whoever took the first picture, would it have hurt to tidy up the apartment just a little bit? Oh, and yes, we get it ... pussy. That was not so clever.]

Its tentacles reach into the food we eat, to the [prescription] drugs we take, to the television we watch, and to even the music we listen to (discussed in prior blog). Even though I didn't label them as such at the time, my first-level conspiratorial expositions / research found "unseen hands" [nod to Epperson] wherever I looked. They were everywhere, and I confess, the beast was quite daunting. However, the following images don't seem so frightening, do they?

Note the significance of Lisa Simpson coming out of the recesses of her dark closet, in her Octopus outfit. Looking back over all the preceding images, I have to wonder if this scary octopus reaching at us from every direction is the lie, that keeps us tethered, ravaged and subjugated. What if the tentacles were our own instead, our connections to reach into everyone and everything, reversing the polarity of the flow, and indeed turning fear into love. Perhaps there lies a little Octopus inside all of us?

I was inspired to find an artist in America who has named his company SoulGlass (see the imagery). An artist, despite the uncreative state most art has been reduced to (topic of a prior blog), is one, who by definition, communes with his creator/soul, hence with the creative infinite. I can't say if it was the glass-blower's intent, but to me, such a "glass" could serve as the fragile container to hold one's soul. Practicality would dictate protecting such a structure, lest it shatter, with a hard yet pliable covering. A tough leather covering perhaps?

Looking at Revelations, from the cryptic metaphoric manual known as The Bible, and trying to account for the implanted distractions/deceptions put in at the beginning, and those later added by endless Czars of the Roman Empire (some tend to call them Popes of the Vatican), we are told that for the end times to begin, the beast must rise to destroy the [material] world. The Cthulhu mythos and the Kraken poets tell stories of similar nature.

Seeing that we, like the Earth itself, are 80% water, I think most of us are standing on the wrong shores, focused on looking out towards the wrong depths. {*6} Per Revelations 13:

1 And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and I saw out of the sea a beast coming up, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon its horns ten diadems, and upon its heads a name of evil speaking,

4 and they did bow before the dragon who did give authority to the beast, and they did bow before the beast, saying, `Who [is] like to the beast? who is able to war with it?'

So, perhaps if we wanna find the beast, we must look within the deep recesses of ourselves, and open the door to the shadow self we've spent a lifetime (or perhaps, lifetimes) trying to avoid. The universe is speaking to us: remember Fight Club? The oft-maligned Crowley, think of him what thou wilt, was completely in the right about one thing: asserting your will/power on others, lest you let them assert it on you. Come to think of it, that is precisely why we are in the mess we are in.

However, I'm not about to go off half-cocked and suggest we slay the beast within, for I like many here among you [Ding from memory bank: "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke." We'll revisit same song before this is over.], am still ignorant and confused as the true nature of ourselves (¿our elves?). We still toss out terms like good and evil while looking for saviors, without even understanding the meaning of the words, or even which side is deceiving nor which is assisting us. We blindly follow fools, until a new fool comes along, turning on the old and labeling him "evil," all the while, the new leads us back to "ground zero." [Credit to Mercurial Talismans for tip.]

How can we know who the ominous "eye" watching over us is, when we still don't even know who the "I" is? It is one thing to find the beast, and that is the simpler part. But, it is quite another to know his nature.

Hence, next up: triads, 8's, the water door, cubes, the grand chessboard, the Lion's Gate, "to infinity and beyond!" And, of course, more octopus porn! :-)

To be continued in Octopi, Phalli, Cubes of Life (II)

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*1: Thanks to reading Wrong Way Wizard's excellent article commemorating 7/4 1776: O Hey Can U Dig, By The Dawnz Early Light, Ma Peeps? In it he points to Talisman video by Charles Stanfeld Jones (who I believe is the same source I made the spider discovery through). We'll revisit the Rubik's cube and 1776 before this is through. [LB]

**2: Some visiting Brit's were poking fun of how dumb the average Americans have become, and while I concurred with their opinion, I asked what made them think they were any better? When I suggested they don't even know the queen runs their country, they insisted her position was merely "ceremonial." A few points later (percent ownership of the UK land mass, the "royal" air force, the "royal" navy, and who their most powerful organizations [MI5/MI6] belong to), they were forced to reconsider.

Hm: Now, I'm forced to wonder why it is expected demanded that we address those of royal [ignoble] lineage in the plural? [LB]

*3: This deserves it's own footnote. "Inside Octopussy" featured an actor named BJ Worth [¡grimace!] playing himself (¡no pun!). But, his resume suggests more. Of course he would be affiliated with the film XXX! [LB]

**4: An anonymous commenter once speculated whether we truly understand the nature of the third eye, beyond labels like good and bad. This is not my answer, but knowing Cthulhu is the great beast that lies dreaming in the deep, have to wonder if one of our many astral connections (tendricles) is not a symbiotic one between us and the great beast. [LB]

*5: Occult researcher/writer Kent Daniel Bentkowski of Kentroversy passed away in between this writing and my last. I had misgivings about including it as a mere footnote, though others (notably Greg from Occult of Personality and Henrik from Red Ice) have said much more on his passing. Personally, I just wanted to express my gratitude for Kent's work and all the insight he has given me on my path to enlightenment. [LB]

*6: I mentioned this last time around, but in case you missed it, Live from the Logosphere's Reptilian Brain, Cthulhu, Neptune, Andromeda and the Beast of Revelations is a must read and on-topic. [LB]

Det symbolske henviser (i hvert fald noget af tiden) hos Crowley til psyken, der er struktureret ud fra ukendte (nok snarere ubevidste) mekanismer; på Livets træ betegner yesod (fundamentet) det egentlige spejlniveau, hvori alle instinkter og ubevidste handlingsmønstre er placeret (herunder også dæmonerne med hundeansigter, qliphoth, den dæmoniske side af træet emanerer herfra). Det symbolske hos Crowley, som værktøj, er en måde at få kontrol med det ubevidste, der i sagens natur ikke kan komme anderledes til udtryk end gennem sproget (jf. Lacans quip om, at 'det ubevidste er struktureret som sprog': det forekommer mig, at det ubevidste, som det reelle begæret retter sig mod, dermed bliver sin egen hindring (mulighedsbetingelse), jf. min tidligere post), hvilket igen betyder, at magien italesætter sin egen hindring, men i den hindring udpeges det reelle, der ganske vist kun kan komme til udtryk symbolsk og dernæst i opløsningen af subjektet, men det er lige præcis det, Liber AL vel Legis (Lovens bog) hentyder til med følgende passage: "For pure will, unassuaged of purpose, delivered from the lust of result, is every way perfect." (AL I:44): det subjektløse begær.

Kan man postulere, som arbejdstese, at Crowley proklamerer det reelles mulighed i orgasmens transgressive karakter - ikke som formål, men i legen?

Unfortunately that summary misses the point of that post entirely. I can understand, however, why he might think this was an issue with Crowley's legacy (such as it is) given my previous posts about Crowley on this blog. However Crowley is just a symptom of the problem, albeit to my mind, one of the originating symptoms. My original issue with Crowley essentially boils down to this: If after seventy years since his death, Crowley still represents the pinnacle of occultism, then occultism as a discipline hasn't advanced at all, which then brings up the question as to why any of us even bother practicing magic at all, if all we're trying to do is emulate him. Mind you, I don't believe all of us are trying to emulate him, but my original issue with Crowley was spurred on by seeing this person talked about so much, with so very little attention seemingly given to other occult authors or other original perspectives that weren't necessarily overtly influenced by him, to the point that some of these occult authors are only, in recent times, being rediscovered (Franz Bardon particularly comes to mind, though I can think of a number of others).

But after re-reading some of Crowley's work, I came to realize that my issue with Crowley was just a symptom of a deeper problem. I could see that Crowley had some valid points to make, even if the end I felt that while what he wrote could be insightful, I still don't believe its as influential as some people would argue. Before I get into any arguments with people who disagree, I'll just accept that yes he obviously has a lot of influence on you and your practice of magic. However, in re-reading his work I still don't find it very illuminating or graceful or any of the other things you think about it (so let's agree to disagree about that).

But this brings me to the problem I now see Crowley as a symptom of. Crowley's image, his notoriety is to me symbolic of the problem I perceive with the occult scene. I honestly wonder if people would find his work as influential if he didn't also have that bad boy image that he has. In other words, I think that the image has overtaken the content. And given that there are no other occult authors that really have that kind of notoriety, a further question I find myself asking is, "If another occult author had that kind of notoriety, would people read his works in the same way...would the image influence how the content was perceived?" Now someone might say, "Hey it's not fair that you assume that Crowley's image influences my reading of his content." Yes it may not be fair, but it is a valid consideration to bear in mind. Does Crowley's image overtake, overshadow, and consequently influence how his work is read and/or practiced? Is Crowley the best role model of a magician that we have? Should he be a role model for us? But it doesn't end with Crowley. The problem here is how much is the occult scene invested in image opposed to content (and who decides what is image and what is content?)?

When I talk about the occult scene, I'm not just talking about Crowley and I'm certainly not just talking about the internet occult scene. The Zee list was an excellent example of what I considered to be part of this image problem I've talked about, because on the zee list what you really had occurring was a lot of chest beating and posturing over who was the uber occultist of them all. What didn't occur was a lot of sharing of ideas or experiments. Some of that occurred, but most of the time you had flame wars erupting...and to a lesser degree this also occurred on other e-lists. I can't say if it's occurred in recent times, because I'm not on any of the e-lists I used to be on. I stayed off them when I realized that any experiments or work I was going to do would probably be best shared with only a select group of people.

So dear reader, at this point, you might ask, "So why are you feeling disillusioned?" And my response: "Is occultism as a culture about image or content or is there a good balance for both?" I think of Generation Hex, the anthology edited by Jason Louv as an example of what I'm asking about. Because on one hand it represents a snapshot in the lives of certain people and their pursuit and practice of magic, and on the other hand it also represents a method for marketing the practice of magic as something cool people can do. It's a cultural text that offers us insight into why people decided magic was relevant to them as a practice and as way of connecting with other people, etc, but it's a statement of how magic could (should?) be perceived.

And then too my disillusionment about occultism comes down to: "What does doing all of this stuff really do for me? How is this really changing my life?" I have no doubt magic has changed my life and changed it for the better, but in considering questions such as those, I also consider the role of occultism as a culture and as a practice in my life. Is the practice of magic just a practice that allows people to connect socially or culturally? Is the practice of magic an elaborate social schema for interaction with certain types of people? Or is there more? I can point to my own experiments and say yes there has been more than just a connection on social or cultural level. But when I look at occultism as a whole, as a culture, I'm asking, what are we practicing magic for? What is the purpose for practicing magic? How does this practice benefit us as individuals, as a cultural group, or humanity, or the Earth, or the universe? What is the significance, if anything...or is it just image in the end?

And to be clear I'm not commenting on the practices of others or your choice to be influenced by Crowley or whatever else as a way of dismissing it. To quote a tried and true maxim of chaos magic, "Whatever works for you" I'm really commenting on all of this for myself, as a way of looking at how I situate my practice of magic into my life, and into my interactions with the occult community and culture. I'm seeking answers to my questions, because those answers will really shape the direction my spiritual path goes into, as well as how and if I continue to take part in the occult community. Posting it here is the opportunity to articulate my feelings and concerns, to get some distance from them, to come back with a different perspective down the line. What answers I get, which could come from commentary that others offer, still are answers I have to find on my own. I suppose you could my disillusionment my spiritual mid life crisis. It's not necessarily a dark night of the soul, but it certainly is something to me...and that's just fine, because it means something is happening.

[ XII - continua ]

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Aleister Crowley gave this perspective an unwarranted credibility when, during his Buddhist phase, he wrote in his introduction to S.L. MacGregor Mathers' edition of the The Goetia that the Goetic spirits were all parts of the human mind. Of course, in other writings, he said just the opposite. Anyway, this post is a good example of the "psychological" explanation of spirits favored by so-called "scientific" occultists.

Psychic entities can come in many forms, varying from incubi, to ghosts, to aliens, and even the ‘hallucinations’ conjured up by a magical adept. Yet the most virulent tend to appear during poltergeist infestations.

Occasionally such entities go further than simply being seen. There are attested cases of such entities actually hurting people, even leaving marks on the body. Does this suggest the entities are real, or can other elements explain the phenomenon?

To me, such entities are basically hallucinations.

The mind constantly interprets the data received from the senses, but should that data be interrupted, such as through tiredness, altered states, natural illusion, etc, a strange phenomenon occurs. Read more

The last two promises were broken.

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Things have been quite horrible with me this month. My best friend was hospitalized at the start & in very bad condition. Her touch-and-go situation there has kept me quite unstable. The reason for her stay has also affected my home life. So much traveling (to and from her locale), so much worry about her, so much worry about my fiancé, so much worry about work, so much worry about the future... So much stress... So much mental anguish...

When Jack, my fiancé, came home from work today to find me returned from NY a day early, he was ecstatic. He rushed to me and covered me with sweaty kisses. I had to fight the urge to ask him to stop as I wasn't in the mood for any closeness let alone intimacies (though I'll admit to finding his salty skin delicious). Oh, yes, I was happy to see him and touch him again. It had been nearly a week since I'd left. But circumstances have made me cringe at men, even him, being in close proximity and moreso at the idea of sex (we hadn't done anything in a full two weeks - unable to orgasm for a month). Thankfully, he's understanding. I just wish I could understand better and be able to help myself cope.

He bathed quickly and returned to a dozing me. He sat upon the floor and held my hand as I went over the past day's hospital activities (I phoned him each day save this last day). He and my friend are very close but, sadly, he's unable to visit her. He listened intently. "I need a shower," I said, concluding my talk. He accompanied me to the bathroom door, making me feel uneasy. I asked him if it was ok if I bathed alone. He sheepishly turned away. "Jack? I love you." Seeing the tears welling in his eyes brought my own out.
He told me he would have something special for me when I was finished. "Magic," he said. Not knowing at the time what he really was hinting at, I just blew the word off and showered.

I finished toweling off in the bedroom and he walked in behind me. A jolt shot up my spine and I quickly covered myself. My androphobia reared its head, something that has been happening much too often this month. "I'm sorry," he softly apologized and turned away to stand in the doorway. "It's ok. You scared me." I let off the towel and wanted so much for him to turn and see me. But he didn't. Perhaps that was for the best. He told me to wear my pajamas (despite it being early afternoon). Dressed, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him from behind. After a bit, he circled around and held me. Despite my unfortunate "new" fear, there are still those perfect moments in time that are treasured between us. After a moment, as he stroked my back, he said, "You need to take your underwear off."

What!? He gave his shy laugh that I adore. He told me that what he had planned would go better without them. A twinge of fear crawled over my flesh. "You're keeping your clothes on, honey." He asked that I trust him and that I would thank him later. After he walked away I pulled my brassiere off; I needed my bottoms for "security."

I walked into the living room...
The blinds were closed and lights were out, darkening the large room. The only light came from one flickering tall candle on the coffee table which was pulled several feet away from the couch and the sunlight that couldn't be blocked from around the blinded window. Behind the candle sat an open hardbound book. On either side of it sat a small digital clock and glass of water. Jack stood at the short table waiting. "What're you doing?" I asked. He told me he had been planning something for months. He asked me if I was willing to forget this month if only for a few minutes. If I was willing to submit myself to him spiritually. If I was willing to walk with spirits. I found his questions nearly humorous but held my composure and agreed.

He promised it would be unlike anything I had ever seen, felt, or heard. He promised it would be extraordinary. He said I would travel, astrally, to another realm, dimension, whatever I wished to name it. When I asked how long I would be there he answered, "Only a very few minutes. I'll be with you. I promise." His promises, reputation with occult experiences, and that shy smile won out.

I sat upon the couch and let him maneuver me into the nook of it; his hand grazed my breast and I gave him a teasing smile. He reached down, pulled my pants elastic, and peered down. "You'll regret those," he laughed at my panties. "Why?!" I laughed. He said it was my last chance but I refused. I was happy that the minor sexual incident was a cutesy one. It calmed me even more.

He told me his simple instructions: "Hold it until I tap you three times, then breathe." Then he told me to stare at the clock after a kiss... Ok...

He read a bit from his book in Latin (I knew the language as I've heard him read in that tongue before) and held a smooth brown stick, no larger than a pencil, which was laid upon it. I took it for a wand. He whispered to the candle's flame then held the tip of the "wand" to it. It ignited and he quickly blew it out sending rippling scentless smoke into the air. Another word was said, then he placed the cherry tip into his mouth. He stepped over to me, placed his free hand upon my chest, and after removing the stick, brought his mouth to mine. He shotgunned a rather massive amount of tasteless smoke into me. I stared into his beautiful green eyes as he intently stared into mine. I glanced at the clock - 2:44. Three quick taps from the fingers on my chest--I exhaled a massive gray cloud. I looked at him again in time to see him remove the stick from his mouth again. This time, he leaned in to kiss; smoke rippled out of his mouth and nostrils like a hellish dragon. His lips enveloped mine and his soft tongue danced with me. I lightly sucked some of his smoke in... He quickly tapped my chest, stepped immediately away, and pointed at the clock - still 2:44...

Is that it...?

2:44...

Um, nothing happened...

2:44...

Jack...?

...

Blindness took me. I sank. I sank into the cushions. I sank. I sank into velvety blackness. I sank. For hours I rested in the dark.

There was a glass of water. There. In the dark. I reached for it. I reached through the air.

The air - composed of intricate geometrical pattern. The air as it is. The air as it has always been. Solid. Real. Tangible. I studied it for many minutes.

The string of my underwear irritated. Tight across me. An annoyance.

The glass was cool. Damp. Light. Full of liquid. Diamonds. Not water. Something like diamonds. Something more precious than water. Something more real. Something complex. Something beautiful. Something perfect.

He stood there. Some distance from me. Scowling. God. Horus.

This is yours. I set the glass down from where I found it. I watched him. I watched him, unmoving. I watched for many minutes.

I grasped a beam of air to help me rise up. I stood there. I stood before a god.

He scowled.

Thank you. I knew he wanted me there. He wasn't upset. He was simply divine.

I pushed through the air. I took a step out.

And appeared within the god's private chamber. His bed. Massive. Composed of paints. Oils.

A high window was open. Trillions of yellow lines grouped through it. Closer. Line after line of yellow light beings. Dancing. Purpose: to bring light and glory to god. For hours I watched. I watched the erratic motions of the light's dance.

Horus. Scowling.

This isn't my world. I took a second step closer to him in that dark room. I'm happy to be here.

I sat upon warm warm dirt. Scent of earth. Scent of life.

Tight across me. An annoyance. I ran my finger along the string. Hot. Unnatural.

I pressed a hand to the wall. I pressed my face to the wall. I spread across the wall. To feel every corner. To feel foundation. To feel. To become.

A glass window kept the grass from me. The trees whirled. Leaves scattered. They need me. It would be morning soon. Then perhaps I could join them.

Thick air swung through the blue sky. They need me.

Birds sang. Sang to me. Called to me. I love them. Swam in the air.

Horus smiled.

"Demeter."

"Samantha."

"Welcome home."

Jack sat cross-legged before me at the glass doors. He was smiling lovingly. He was so beautiful. So real, so beautiful. I ran my fingertips over his cheek. Held his hand. My god.

"Where were you?" I asked. "Right here the whole time," he answered.

"What time is it?" I was gone half a dozen hours at least. Motions took ages to make. So precise in movement. So engulfing were the experiences.

He pointed to the coffee table, some minute distance away. There was the clock - 2:49.

2:49.

5 minutes.

5 minutes of time.

5 minutes.

He helped me rise from the carpet. His hand upon my waist sent ecstatic chills through me.

We walked, lightly, feathery, to the bedroom. I laid upon my back and extended my arms out. The cool invisible air tickled me all over. He ran his hands up my legs, up my torso, along my arms, and back until they met my face. His hands all over me were comforting. "You're so beautiful," I whispered.

He began to unbutton my top, "May I?" I couldn't stop a toothy smile. With each button undone, cool air rushed in to tackle untouched skin. After pushing off my top, he slowly brought down my bottoms. The disappearance of my panties were an incredible relief. He was right. I shouldn't have worn them.

Undressed, he climbed up over me; I was eagerly spread. "You're so beautiful, Jack. I love you." I climaxed seconds after his entering. Several minutes of bliss later, he spilled his seed within me. My god.

My Horus.

3:20.

I sat up in the cold room. It was different. No, everything, every item, was the same. But it was different. He watched me as I walked out of the room and paced the other rooms. It was different. Everything was different. There was more. Unseen, but more. The world grew. In a short period of time, minutes, the universe expanded.

Back into the bedroom, I just looked at him, perplexed. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

I hadn't any words. There were no words. The words I provide here do not do justice.

Speechless, I climbed back into bed. I scampered onto him and made love again; my lips never parting his.

_____________________________________________________________________________

He promised he would be at my side. He wasn't. He became a god. My god. Horus. He was there for me, Samantha, but not for me, the spirit. That's what I was. I left Samantha behind and walked as a ghost.

For hours. For days. He promised it would last only minutes. It didn't. It did. For Samantha. But I wasn't her. I wasn't alive. I surpassed living. I was spirit. I was eternal.

I was a goddess.

Num artigo publicado ontem, 15/7/2008, no New York Times, por Michael Kimmelman, soube da gritaria, da confusão lusitana ao redor da venda da correspondência de Fernando Pessoa ao escritor britânico Aleister Crowley.  Esta correspondência do poeta português com o místico escritor britânico foi iniciada em 1930.  Sua venda, negociada pelos herdeiros de Fernando Pessoa, está marcada para o período de alta visibilidade na Europa, o outono, que é a estação de abertura dos eventos culturais do ano e será feita em leilão público.  A confusão é gerada pela reclamação de alguns da saída do país de documentos de tal importância.

Mas, é justamente de vendas como esta, que a Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal pode se beneficiar, como já o fez no ano passado quando arrematou, para seu acervo, cadernos de notas de Fernando Pessoa.  Como Kimmelman em seu artigo lembra, a maior parte da obra de Pessoa está em manuscritos, nunca tendo sido publicada -- diz-se que chegam aos 30.000, ainda guardados em baús na última moradia do escritor. 

A decisão dos herdeiros de venderem pelo maior e melhor preço estes documentos é volátil.  Recentemente o ministro da cultura de Portugal, José Antonio Pinto Ribeiro, lembrou, numa conferência aberta ao público na Casa Fernando Pessoa, que o estado português tem o poder de manter dentro de seu território qualquer objeto (e os manuscritos se enquadram aqui) que achar ser necessário para o patrimônio nacional.  A mensagem, bem entendida por Manuela Nogueira, a sobrinha de Fernando Pessoa, que se encontrava na audiência, era de que ela não se sentisse muito confiante, porque a qualquer momento o governo poderia decidir que tais documentos eram do interesse cultural do país e não só proibir sua venda, como também tombar tais documentos, e nada dar aos herdeiros em troca. 

Manuela Nogueira já estava preparada para a luta.  Já havia fotografado tudo que pretendia vender de modo que cópias estarão sempre abertas para estudiosos, não importando o destino final dos originais.  Além do que, um contrato já havia sido assinado por ela e pela casa de leilões.

O artigo de Michael Kimmelman continua então com considerações sobre Pessoa e sobre a alma portuguesa, inclusive opiniões sobre a última, com uma breve entrevista sublinhando as opiniões de Inês Pedrosa, a escritora que esteve recentemente aqui em Paraty, na FLIP [Feira Literária Internacional de Paraty] deste ano.  O artigo revela também algumas opiniões de Jerônimo Pizarro diretor da Casa Fernando Pessoa, em Lisboa.  Mas, o assunto pelo qual tenho interesse aqui é diferente daquele enfatizado pelo New York Times, que se mostrou mais interessado em mostrar a forma peculiar, culturalmente falando, de pensar dos portugueses – um artigo até bastante irônico. O que me interessa é ponderar sobre os diversos direitos envolvidos neste caso, para que possamos, no futuro, pensar em como resolver situações semelhantes que certamente ocorrerão na tentativa de preservação de uma cultura brasileira:

1° - Tanto no Brasil como em Portugal seria necessário tornar mais claras as regras estabelecidas para dar prioridade ao que deve ou não ser preservado dentro do país.

2° - Acredito que os herdeiros têm todo o direito de vender os documentos.  Muitos autores, com herdeiros, fazem projetos de vida contando com esta possibilidade de renda para as gerações futuras, assim como os grandes donos de terras o fazem.

3° - Também acredito que o governo tem todo o direito de comprar os documentos.  Se são de tamanha importância como se diz, tenho certeza que qualquer governo acharia os meios de comprá-los no leilão, ou seja ao valor estabelecido pelo mercado.

4° - Onde há vontade há um meio.  O governo pode se juntar a diversas ONGs culturais para comprar os documentos e mantê-los na Biblioteca Nacional ou em alguma outra instituição pública de acesso livre aos estudiosos.

5° - Nada impede que um grupo de intelectuais e outros interessados, que hoje choram e gritam lamentando a perda física dos documentos, não se cotizem para comprá-los e depois doá-los ao país.  Acho que as pessoas têm que aprender a colocar o dinheiro onde insistem ser um bom investimento, quer seja cultural ou econômico.

6° - Não há nada mais injusto do que o governo proibir alguém de vender algum objeto ou documento por o haver declarado Patrimônio Nacional, tombá-lo e não indenizar o atual dono do patrimônio ao preço de mercado.

7° - Se nenhuma destas possibilidades aparecerem, por que os documentos não podem sair do país e serem velados por uma outra instituição de responsabilidade social como seria o caso de uma biblioteca especializada em manuscritos de grandes autores?

8° - Último, estive vendo, no outro dia que a Biblioteca Nacional do Rio de Janeiro é a 7ª maior biblioteca do mundo.  ALÔ !!!!  Diretores da BN, está na hora de aumentarmos o nosso patrimônio!  Tenho certeza de que Portugal preferiria que nós  brasileiros – da mesma pátria, porque afinal nossa língua é nossa pátria – fossemos os guardiões destes documentos.  Melhor do que qualquer outro país que se interessar possa, não é mesmo?

 Manuscritos importantes herdados de Fernando Pessoa vão a leilão em Outubro

Um dos documentos que pode atingir somas consideráveis é o chamado dossier Pessoa-Crowley, que reúne todos os papéis relativos ao encontro do poeta português com ocultista inglês Aleister Crowley, em 1930. Material que poderá suscitar o interesse de compradores ingleses, numa leiloeira em que 70 por cento das vendas são feitas para o estrangeiro.

Outras peças a leilão: cartas astrológicas, livros e revistas, entre as quais a Contemporânea e uma Orpheu com dedicatória de Almada Negreiros, manuscritos não especificados pela leiloeira e o contrato de arrendamento da casa da Rua Coelho da Rocha, que é hoje sede da Casa Fernando Pessoa. Será um leilão mais ambicioso do que os realizados em Novembro de 2006 ou Dezembro de 2007 pela mesma leiloeira, que incluíam fotografias de época de Pessoa. "É muito mais complexo leiloar papéis do Pessoa do que fotografias", nota o colombiano Jeronimo Pizarro, um dos investigadores que tem trabalhado na edição crítica da obra do poeta, a partir do espólio que em depósito na Biblioteca Nacional (BN).

O dossier Pessoa-Crowley é constituído, na verdade, por "dois dossiers que deverão ter entre 800 e 900 páginas, dos quais 700 correspondem a manuscritos de Pessoa", segundo Pizarro, que levou a cabo a digitalização do espólio que pertence aos sobrinhos do poeta. Esses dossiers integram a correspondência, em inglês, de Pessoa e Crowley entre Dezembro de 1929 e 1931, de Pessoa e a editora de Crowley, a Mandrake Press, além da novela policial incompleta que o poeta escreveu baseada no suicídio encenado de Crowley na Boca do Inferno (cavidade rochosa batida pelo mar próxima de Cascais) em Setembro de 1930.

The Mouth of Hell, na descrição do americano Richard Zenith, organizador de várias edições de Pessoa na Assírio & Alvim, é a história de um detective inglês que vem a Portugal investigar o caso. O sobrinho do poeta, Miguel Roza, que é o actual proprietário dos papéis relativos ao caso Crowley e que chegou a considerar vendê-los em leilão na Christie"s nos anos 90, editou um volume em 2001, intitulado Encontro Magick, que compila esses documentos (em português) e que permite ter uma visão do que estará em causa no leilão de Outubro.

Pizarro diz ter alertado o director da Biblioteca Nacional, Jorge Couto, para a importância de comprar o espólio Pessoa-Crowley. "As pessoas que trabalham na edição crítica dão muito valor aos originais. Consideramos que tudo é fundamental, até ao último dos papéis. É trágico não estar junto do restante espólio. Estamos a falar de uma altura em que Pessoa escrevia cartas praticamente todos os dias. Se há um período da sua vida que conhecemos bem é esse, e se conhecemos bem é porque trocou correspondência com Crowley."

Em 1979, o Estado português adquiriu o espólio de Pessoa, mas Pizarro lembra que a família do poeta "nunca vendeu todos os livros nem todos os papéis". Segundo o investigador, a família detém 140 livros e revistas e "mais ou menos 2300 papéis", o equivalente a 10 por cento da biblioteca na Casa Fernando Pessoa e 10 por cento do que s