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Part 2

But what the hell kind of a meat loaf is this? I have been more than patient!

Jules threw What? at his opponent’s feet, and glared in a way most would find frightening, but—only to find that during his instant of passing through one through five above, and what was going to come out being simply What? Unimportant and then they put their arm up again his creator took pity and plucked him on high to its eternal bosom and, Jules, after the final ? of the tiny bark of his What? echoed to nothing, he found himself dead on the floor, with no time left to exclaim, What did I do to deserve this, over a bed of hot lava flaming bundles of superheated sticks brake for clinkering-coo and, so, he wasn’t there; there’d never been his side of the conversation, and, since his other ‘s conversation still remained having been, exactly bundles of white sticks bluop bloup bloop bloop bluip bloope the gathering crowd, who’d been listening to this for over five days (which however was only five minutes because they needed to be able to say to the policemen they’d called about the disturbance this madman speaking back into himself that it had been going on for five days) bluop bloup flaming bundles of superheated sticks brake for bloopi bloopee bluipoir bup lou loop Clinkering-coo exactly bundles called a policeman walking past with sandwich off its lunch break of white sticks blo bui loo unimportant and then they put their arm up again over a bed of hot lava bluop bup blu loo bop over a bed of and a sequence of police/policed interactions took place hot lava blip blop lup lop lp bluo blou bundles of white sticks luop loup oop op p pe boo blu blo blo flaming bundles of superheated sticks rak for bloop bluip leading to the offender being straightjacketed bluop loup oop op Clinkering-coo Exactly! bluip loope uop up bluop blou blo unimportant and then they put their arm up again bloop blui op oup loop bloop And then they put their arm up again and taken out of sight forever and, since our lord on high is merciful and loving, bluip loope blu bluop blo bl b bp ope exactly p up oop loop bluip blpe blu bp pop uip loope brake for p up oop loop bluip bloope bluop blp bp

Hot lava oo lui loop, he did what he had to do to prevent regret and depression leading to suicide or worse in the thirteen of his chosen elect, bluop loup op p ip loope over a bed of bluop blp bp b ip b bl blo bloo bluip bundles of white sticks bloope bluo blo b bluop blou blo bl flaming bundles of superheated sticks bl bloo bluop bluop blou blo bl b bl blu unimportant He issued them all goblets of the calming quaff of forgetfulness a la Hercules herself, the movie, and he led them into his next chapter where he became man and all and all, b bl blo blu bloo bluop b bl blo bloo blui bloope clinkering-coo almighty bluop blou bloo bl b But what the hell kind of a meatloaf is this Christ which story most of you have known since birth and so, I will not go farther. Like what happens when yo’ drive round-trip a hundred-fifty-seven times. Oh, ah, oops. Six, that is.

Hey listen. Hey. Listen. But what the hell kind of a meat loaf is this?

I have been more than much more than patient much more than patient!

Of any kind let alone their very own. Why?

See! For this purpose, it is wrong to refer to anything typically assigned a zip code shared or otherwise as he or she. Or to use such phrases as they’ve got their own zip code. You would say it’s got its own zip code. Or they’ve got their own zip codes. That one—the word they’ve plus the word their that they’ve both used in the phrase—is a tightrope walk. Because they’ve, or their, could apply to objects or locations, as well as to more than one human. But it’s, or its, typically leaves out humans. Sentient non-human creatures, however, may be referred to in this way regarding the assignment of zip codes to them. (note the use of them however. Son, remember, that when pressed against the wall of the hard stop the rules go out the window—or, more precisely, evaporate into invisible smoke; which in itself is a term perhaps quite meaningless ‘cause, well, my hawsers ‘n hippos, is there such a thing as invisible smoke—hey, there; Hans Zeigler back there! Back there, Hans, I gotcha! As was suspected, you do spend far too much time pretending to play rock and roll on that no-name scroll-horned cutaway Christmas

present of an electric guitar you pretend to use daily, so that Aunt Minnie, your family’s seriously unbalanced serial gifter, got you five Christmases ago, and after the unwrapping, she brandished before you a probably fake newspaper clipping, reporting on a previously fine auntie, who after spending significant money on a jazz horn of some kind for one of the hundred nephews she imagined she had, but that were all wrapped ‘round the core of her derangement into one boy; one! One boy, who—when she visited seven months down on the boys birthday, and found that without asking her or informing her ess, not anything-ing her at all about the sale of the jazz horn, due to th’ lads lack of interest, smashed upward the root of his nose, driving a dagger of cartilage into his brain, and then doing the same exact thing to herself. unimportant and then they put their arm up again Which, after local law enforcement arrived, and the whole criminal justice whirlwind up and petered out, as usual, the boys Father got life at hard labor—for it was one of those countries you know, one of those—

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An Excerpt from Memory Alchemycal

By: Sean Duffield

Their twinned hands entered the dark part of the cave. Thick with stone weathered under water jets over years of un-washed clay. They walked with backs straight, never fumbling over the crag there or the slippery chunk of wood in their paths. They walked with confidence through the darkest parts of a known beast, with smiles that would grow as the gloom stretched on into sunlight.

After an immeasurable amount of walking distance into the dolorous cladding of their personal fort and cave, a light began to peak. Its playful eyes wrapped upside down from above them, as if playing hide and seek.

The further the two entered, the friendlier the light became. Smoothing through the ceiling grooves and shuffling along the seams with joyful tailed wags. It puddled and stretched amongst the caveats of the cavern walls and soon the floor too, had it washing along. As the clandestine crawl continued, the luminescence began to grow alongside its disposition and approval of its owners coming home.

Soon the source was exposed. Olafur and Anabeila entered a surreptitious glade in the confines of their cave. Several feet wide it splayed its open source and turned the belly of the fort to bask in the light of cloud backed stars.

Flickers of lights at already adjusted lacidum were now expedited rays that drew iris’ to act responsively and pull their muscles radially to contract and close the open night sores from the gleaming light of day.

While its volume decreased, its density doubled and soon Olafur’s and Anabeila’s minds were alight with the splendour of a hidden gem amongst the Bodhi tree forest. A pool of aquamarine liquid sat inside a carved out section of cave. It came of level to their feet. Perfectly fed and dissolved by the opening above their heads. Glistening with specks of sunlight that hit mineral deposits of zinc and copper, reflecting back amongst each other the shimmer of the translucent conductivity of the surface water.

Insects and small fish zoomed about the laid back tension of the pond’s perfect veneer. Exposing languages of signatures that formed under nescient eyes. Olafur danced around the shallow bank at the side of the written encounter, it was daring to distract his eyes. Then he sat upon his rock, facing back towards Anabeila, still adjusting from the change inspired by her shocked radial eyes.

“So… ” Olafur leaned over the blue lucidity of the pool towards Anabeila. “Want to talk about today?”

Anabeila breathed in a volume of air followed by insects and invertebrate hair. She held it for a moment and looked over at her friend. Then exhaled into her mouth, puffing her cheeks out with the last bits of memories chagrin. Her eyes bulged before she rolled them over to the other side of the pond where her feet followed her, plodding along at indiscriminate pace and position. She sat down on another rock, looming under Olafur from a water body’s length away. Then she exhaled. Breathing out the confined emotions of another tumultuous day as a child in a society that preys on nothing, and demands everything, of their DNA.

“I was distracted,” she replied.

“By what?” asked Olafur.

“The insects in the conservatory. As usual.”

“You know you can make them in your forest.”

Anabeila shot rhetorical beams across the aquatic sheen.

“I’m just saying. You can bring the outside world in and love it all the same,” said Olafur

Anabeila had a knack for work in the dojo and a natural fighting figure to go along with her instinctual martial prowess. Morning classes usually comprised her throwing the other children upside down and twisting them inside out, with or without weapons on hand. But when they entered meditation and carved a trail into the confines of their quiet selves, she stumbled.

Notum referred to her as marble. Thick, strong. With providence at its center just waiting for strong hands to chisel it out. The other children called her a late bloomer. In other words. Dumb. Even with Anabeila’s lineage stretching into some of the original founders of the church of the Onus Consilium and her parents being great prospects themselves, she felt as though she was always behind. And the episodes in class were stark reminders of the truth that radiated her failures as a member of the church.

“I know Olafur. They’ve all tried to teach me several times to expose the roots or whatever. Clean the bark. I get it. I’m just not good at it.” Said Anabeila.

“You made an entire island so far.” You’re doing okay.”

“I have an entire ego to slay.”

“We all do. We sleep forever under its blankets. We just have to thin it out enough that the light falls in.

“Can we speak of something else?” asked Anabeila.

“What do you think will happen on choosing day?”

“It’s weeks away now, Olafur. Something else.”

“Well, do you think it’s true?” Said Olafur.

“What’s that?”

“The jaws of the behemoths?”

She sucked her teeth and rolled her head away. “I said something else!”

“Honestly though? Do you think the jaws will take us? Naturally. That it’s something we are supposed to just accept?”

“The proof is supposed to be the story of Muk’Til Dep. The planet that let their Bodhi trees grow like these for so long that the wasp came. And the jaws followed.”

“Yea. That’s the story. Do you believe it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I believe it. That the jaws will come one day. That our cycle will complete. It’s pretty. It makes me anxious, but it’s pretty.” Said Olafur.

“I don’t read that part much. I kept getting drawn back to The Body of the Worm.” Said Anabeila. Her eyes all stars and constellations.

Olafur turned his bewilderment to her again. “Which one is that?”

Afternoons like this would go forever. Each friend asking the same question. Each response falling under the sunsets of a lacquered sky. Whether she admitted it or not. Talking to Olafur was how Anabeila decompressed before they would start their trek back home. Through the woods. Away from the Bodhi trees that harboured their own destructions. A moment that Olafur called beautiful.

Was the Onus Consilium a church of death? Anabeila would always question that.

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n 13 Foetus

Foetus is the not yet born child suspended in the amniotic sac. This is an energy of inchoation and dependency. Foetus (n) is part of the circuit. It lies in between h (Incest) behind it and d (Artemis) in front of it.

Other connected accretions are: Hebrew: Mem, Tarot: Hanged Man, Raven, Ash tree, Green Woodpecker, Vasopressin, Aldosterone, Glutamic acid, S=d/t, D=st, T=d/s.

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m 12 Ethics

Ethics is the concern of the transcendental appearance of right and wrong. As a nodal accretion Ethics is interesting. Ethics in philosophy tends to be the dominant term for the whole field of moral study. At a more societal level however ethics tends to be the code of conduct for regional areas whereas morality tends to be viewed as the more fluid personal code. In philosophy though it is morality that is often thought of as the wider code that ethics supplies the meta level to. The ethical is a transcendental appearance, this though in no way determines the content of the ethical in its particular decisions (morality). In Deleuzo-Guattarian terms ethics has a molar structure as a ‘real’ area that itself studies the determination of a second molarity: morality -in the sense of a wider code e.g. Christian morality. Likewise both of these structures have bleeding molecular edges.

The molecular edge of morality is ethics, as it is ethics that questions the correctness of the morality just engages with it in a motion that perpetually threatens to destabilize it. The molecular edge of ethics is the sceptical reflection upon the ethical itself. Because the ethics-morality dualism is often identified as a condition of the human itself, the edge of the ethical (the system that preys upon morality) is both the nihilistic threat that moves beyond the human and Nietzschean style attempts to move beyond it in a grammar not yet fully formed -for which to use the term ‘more positive’ is insufficient.

Ethics is one of the three central nodes of the hyperqabalah (along with Advent (a) and Umbra (0).

Other connected accretions are: Hebrew: Lamed, Tarot: Adjustment, Mice, Rabbits, Bramble, Rose, Meadowsweet, Maat, Manganese, Phenylanine, Momentum (physics).