Having preset by nearly a decade an absurd universe in this medium, I find myself strange. The medium right now is beginning to alter reality back, but, luckily I apparently precogated some of this shit so I'm set up with an absurd compass in uncharted territory. I posited a navigational mustache and a bag of tricks that is bottomless because it's fathomless because it reaches direct into the abyss. I began working from the abyss because of one single bibliomancy about 30 years ago, after which I read no more Crowley for a couple of decades. This was a condition of following the implication of that single paragraph to its utmost extreme, which involved a lot of explorations that make much more sense in retrospect. I became a chaos magician before I knew of the term and on the implication of a single paragraph he wrote regarding the void.
So, now, this is a mythic universe I have in place as the world slides into wacktardery. How convenient, as the Church Lady would say. How very convenient. So, now, Herb the Battle Unicorn begins to sally forth, tracking. Herb is an expert tracker in this very medium right here. I'll link this up by iterations to different locations. The electronic trails are the stuff Herb can map like that lemon juice trick. If you've happened through my web, you're an extension of it. That's just obvious. My spiders have long been working up in here. Ting tang walla walla bing bang. This is crazy, but it's a huge magical working. I think I am seeing something that I have long been willfully blind about to some extent. There is a trajectory very very much in motion here. This is obvious. It has a current, a current, to be clear, that I have actively engaged in stirring. To now fight against it, rather than using the energy to ride upon, is not smart. I am learning this. I see it. Resistance is based in fear, but that fear is a thing that is, itself, my own created chimera. I slay it.
Zelda del West turns out to be the subject of inquiry. The nome de guerre who spawned The Wicked Witch of West Texas, Lulu, Sugarland and an elaborate escape to Walla Walla. This story was long ago so bizarre it can only be told as various fictions. There are too many facets to straighten to pure narrative. The body of work is a rhizome. It was begun with precisely this intent--- the linking of the world in material to the psychic universe of my many nets. This is an exercise in consciousness, of course. I don't know why each piece fits. I do believe that being trapped in Texas and solving that was the ordeal that forced me to do the thing to get through the ordeal. It's clarity. To accept this is no different than accepting the circumstances of my initiatory experiences, both undergone by force. I didn't get kid gloves. The creature I am wasn't made by those circumstances.
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