Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Using Schizophrenia as a Powerful Creative and Introspective Tool

          The full title of this piece is “Using Schizophrenia as a Powerful Creative and Introspective Tool: On the Auto-Induction of Delusionary Thought Processes as a Method of Psychological, Emotional, Spiritual, and Fiduciary Self-Evaluation”.

Trigger Warning:

          This article may be triggering to some people.
          But to make a sigil-currency omelette, you've got to break a few legs. This is to say that it will be necessary to trigger oneself; this will help to recover lost and suppressed memories.
          You must allow yourself to go so beautifully insane that your insanity heals your personality disorders. You must embrace the positive aspects of these disorders (which make you special and unique), and you must utilize them, in order to hone your deductive and intuitive skills (whether magickal or emotional), and to improve what I call your “Cognitive Discord”. Never tear down a delusion if it also happens to be one of your wildest dreams.
          Fortunately, the spiritual, mental, and emotional benefits of these practices far outweigh the detriments, and the rewards brought to bear by the alternatives. But that's what happens when you fix weights and measures without considering the Stone Price (YIC) and the Flesh Price (TBD).
          So take heed, for there are many risks to consider before getting engaged in such an Alchymical Wedding.

          First, a joke: What does occult magick have in common with economics under hoarding and scarcity? They both require and call for sacrifice! I mean, they don't call money the lifeblood of the economy for no reason.
          Another joke: What do the Moon and the Dollar(TM) have in common? They both have four quarters! That, and they form a Blood Mooney Coalition, which I believe is destined to unseat the Petrodollar-Weapondollar Coalition, to keep the USD strong against the moonetary crypto-unit which is known (on the Chinese Dark Web) as the Moon-Yuan. Still, it takes a Moon-Yuan to know Yuan!
That's why, before constructing (really, minting), your new sigil-currency, it will first be necessary to turn oneself over to The Void; that spectre of spectres, the void of impermanence which, from Planck's Constant to bak'tun, assails us all.
          For, at once, it were necessary to learn the Intrinsic Arcane (the ancient symbols written upon our amygdalas); rig thrombosis adrenal, and gallivant, tryptamine-aware, into the ever-self-propelling and self-proliferating Process (Durga). Aum.

          Phase One is, of course, proper Self-Medication. That is, drug yourself.

          Step Pa: Smoke a lot of dope. That is, buy a lot of dope, and smoke it. Literally, put that in your pipe and smoke it! So say the ancient symbols.

          Step Veh: Drink as much coffee as possible. Research suggests that drinking black coffee aids in inducing schizophrenia. [Silent, emphatic, pleading, suggestive, wild shrugs] Use that.

          Step Ged: Gather up some of your rings and coins and trinkets, take them to a warlock, and spend them on some garlic garlands, cayenne pepper, and time. Bring it all back home and snort that shit.

          Step Gal: Your dope dealer probably smokes crank. Don't smoke meth; recall what the billboards say (“Not even twice”). Instead, absorb some second-hand fumes cutaneously. This will ensure that Shakespeare & Kepler's kaleidoscopic speculum-vortex will be firmly implanted into your frontal cortex. Put a vortex in your cortex. This will be necessary for the proceeding (preceding?) ceremonies.

          Step Or: Find a way to huff glue “accidentally”. Fix your glasses with super glue, and just let it dry on your face, while you breathe in the fumes “unknowingly”. Don't have glasses? Well, you still have a pineal gland. Get a shamanic monocle (or sha-monocle), and glue it up.

          Step Un: Freebase cookies (not literally; just table salt and brown sugar). It turns time backwards. It's hard to overestimate how useful this can make things.

          Though the majority of the drugging is complete, Thisbe but the first phase of your drugging; more will come later.

          Now, on to Phase Two: Spells, Incantations, and Rituals.

          Step Graph: Cast spells, and spell words upside-down and shit.
          Cast whatever spells on your landperson (or your Landlord JesusTM, whatever the case). Do whatever is necessary to ward them off (Montgomery Ward's), and filibuster their inquisitions with your incantations. Call her Lambchop and tell her to go away because she has no power here. Do a goddamn thing for the Empire.
          Inform the building manager (assuming you don't live in a ditch, hut, hogan, or cooperative housing yurt) that, although if you remove an “a” from “manager”, you get “manger”; if you add an “l” to “manger”, you get “mangler”. This will freak them out, and show them that to be a tenant is to be Led like a lamb to the slaughter.
          I mean, seriously! I need to burn incense and candles in my adobe abode, but the building codes forbode it. People can be so afraid of a little fire sometimes. The trees like to get lit just as much as we do, people! Who has an Eostre without fire?

          Step Tal: Isolate yourself.
          Trigger and incite yourself. Doubt every thought you have, and question why you are thinking the way you are. But also question whatever motivates you to question yourself thusly.
          This will imbue you with the kind of Cognitive Discord (not to be confused with cognitive dissonance) which is necessary to comprehend the resplendent inanity that is the incoherent logick of Discordian thought.
          Go to a Zen session. Be foolish enough to interrupt someone. Do their little corporate retreat team-building exercise at the Wall; just don't spoil the esoteric surprise for yourself by learning about the Trappists beforehand.

          Step Gon: Figure out how to remove, re-install, replace, and fix, the locks (or lox) to all the doors and windows in your dwelling.

          Think on this question: What is the key to your core (coeur)?. Where is your true home; In which Temple are your true souls housed? Whatever the House, whatever its Key, that will be your sigil; will be your currency.
          Remember, as you live, your home is your Pyramid. And, as you live and die (in your cold, shitty apartment), it becomes your mausoleum, just as the Pyramus intended.
          And so, you must protect it; by warding off snakes, loan-sharks, and loan-snakes, those fraudulent u-serping u-serpents which plagued Egypt so long from now. They are that Genetic beast crawling on its belly, that squelcher of the dreams of our immortality once had by our feathren, Brother-Men, and Whethermen. Praise Imhotep, Lord Abbie of the Abbey, and the Dual Hoffman of psychopomp and circumstance.

          Step Gon·: Smell is the most powerful sense tied to memory. Seal every crack and crevice of the exits and entrances to your abode; windows, vents, and all. Because who doesn't love a good Caesarion section? Caesar's wife and her best friend Sam knew as well as anyone that the gods don't close a door without opening a Window. That ought to explain it all.
          Use duct tape and other sealants (feel free to huff them) to create an impermeable membrane between your cloister and What Lies Beyond. This will protect your neighbors from any HellfireTM which Issues from without your abode.
          To be The Catacombs is to be human; it is to be a Library of Alexandria of dead books, seeking One to read them. As Blake explained: to inquire of God is to ask of God. Theology is prayer.

          Step Na: Seek relief from the thunderous, paralyzing silence. “Play some Zeppelin, for God's sake”, as Sir Patton Oswalt (Emperor of YouTube, and the Conspirator who shot the General) imparted to us.
          Unfortunately in this case, life imitates art, so you are denied “Stairway”. However, “All My Love” serves as a delightful accompaniment to finding a metal hook on your Wall suitable for positioning a delicate crystalline lamp (LamBam) which would ordinarily belong on a desk-top.
          Ritual object magick is 10% inspiration and 90% Feng Shui.

          Step Ur: Now that your first incantation has been selected, build a soundtrack to accompany your spell-building and spellbinding. This is the soundtrack by which you are to captivate and fascinate your audience. Don't be afraid to go the extra mile, by literally taking the audience captive.
          Select a book of chansons; they can be either original works, or covers. Just keep in mind that an album of covers has two more covers than it lets on (that is, the back cover and the front cover).
          But however you fashion that you'll fascinate your audience (The Voices), you must fashion also spells. Encapsulate them within the binding of your spell-book (preferably one of human flesh, as we have disgust). And, praise Eminem, you know what this must mean; this is the only binding which is truly binding.
          You must bind The Book the same way The Covenant binds you.

          Step Mals: Isolate yourself. Deprive yourself of everything you once loved; friends, lovers, family, all social interaction. Join a cult if you have to (but don't just join a cult; be The Cult, be The Hidden).
          Deprive yourself of your hobbies, freedoms, possessions; even nutrition, heat, and ventilation. Cut out all indulgences and guilty pleasures, especially if you can't afford them. Deprive yourself of adequate nutrition now, in order to be able to afford good nutrition later! That's just the way you have to think and prioritize for the long-term; after all, you're immortal (or at least eternal, it's your Call).
Denying yourself everything you hold dear will, of course, aid in inducing the depressive state which is necessary to invoke the spirits which dwell within, out-into the world of Māya. That is, I mean, if you insist on being a materialist like that. “Beware of Māya”, so sayeth Jáyaraj. But after all, these deprived and depraved rituals are what's necessary to live an ascetic (not to be confused with A E S T H E T I C) lifestyle. Right?
          Until you sit atop the Earth, until you sit in the Master's chair, you won't understand that all the value of the Universe is literally in your hands. You cannot fully comprehend until you reflect upon what it verily means to stand-under; to under-stand the Heavens. Just as you charge a sigil the same way you charge a purchase, your assets cannot financially appreciate until you learn to intellectually appreciate.
          But you keep forgetting; the Master's chair is your chair to begin with, just as Don Yuan subliminally and repeatedly suggested to Carlos. A good church is one that keeps the Throne open for Christ, and good synagogue is one that keeps a seat saved for Elijah. Just as a good opera saves a seat for Emperor Norton, your dwelling saves always a seat for you. Do not take it for granted.
          To understand this is to see the Sky for the first time, despite having looked up so many times before, praise Bob.

          Step Ger: Search for other things - besides your incantation soundtrack and your gematric Economicon - by which to pretend (and portend) to bind yourself to your audience. Once all is within you, you need no longer fear the ill effects of looking outside of yourself for fulfillment. All is One.
          Put clothespins all over yourself. Fingers, ears, eyes, nose, whatever dangles from ya. Put one on your tongue and try to make a lamb noise. Speak all sorts of tongues; this is the true Song of Songs.
          It is in this lamby Silence – after the Initiate has already, by oneself, initiated the sacred creative processthat the mind acquires a certain stillness; that Pallas Muse and Oracle make their apparitions, and begin to take possession of the Artist (without laying any claim to His Work).
          To put a clamp on your tongue is to bind your Flesh to your Word. Let this clamp be as your Fasces.
           Chasten, don't hasten.

          Step Drux: Be so quiet, and so still...
           Listen for a voice coming from behind your left shoulder, or look for a vision in red coming from ahead and to the left. This is not some J.F.K. assassination shit I'm talking about here; this is just standard chaos ritual, the kind any ordinary witch-daemon will tell you about.
          If you need to verify this, read your Crowley... just not before, and not after, reading yourself.
Everybody look at your hands; I need You to really hear this.

          Step Pal: Make The DealTM.
          Read a bunch of WebMD. Give yourself Munchhausen's Syndrome. Start saving your blood, and all of your humours (your precious bodily fluids). Donate the vast majority of them to Commodity Fetish Records. Remember, it's not a blood sacrifice, it's a voluntary blood donation. And anything that you can describe as “voluntary” can't be harmful! (Disclaimer: If nobody volunteers, then a volunteer will be chosen at random from the audience.)
          Keep some of your humours (and your tumours) saved somewhere, in case a couple come to your window with a dog, demanding a sacrifice. Study up for this inevitable event by reading some David Berkowitz (a/k/a Dr. Doolittle).
          To Make The Deal (hadith), get your blanket out. You know the one, Linus; that one with the royal red of the Second Coming on one side, and the white veil - the Shroud of purity and holiness - on the other. Place it onto the dog, red side up. This either crowns the dog the Red Devil, or else Christ the Blood-Covered King. It's actually impossible to know.
          That is, until eleven years later, when that couple you hosted who conceived that night, birth the Antichrist Jesús, the Invincible Invisible Muscle Car; the Susej-Jesus, that flying soothsaying sausage on a saucer from beyond the Lamb's Head Nebula. Yea, for Muscle-Car Jesus was laid upon the Cross, affixed to it with the bolts of a million sinners who bolted from Mother Church; and crucified onto the psyche of the American automobile-purchasing consumer public. This is why most car companies and dealerships are named after star systems, praise Ford (fnord).
          When all of this is over - whether you've found the serial killers or not – let people point guns at you. Don't even ask whether they're loaded, because, honestly, like you give a shit. Next, do whatever. Show up at work the next day like nothing happened.

          Step Med: Now that The DealTM has been made, construct the corresponding iconography. To be clear, this is a pre-currency-crafting sigil-building session.
          Write down whatever comes into your head. You know how there's a Book of Numbers in the Bible? Add a Book of Letters, or perhaps a Book of Names. Turn an English Bible around 180°, pretend it's in Hebrew, and try to read it. It's like the good people at Klutz Books explain; nearly every letter (not just p, q, b, and d) can be turned upside-down into another letter. I mean, you might have to un-capitalize it, but fortunately for us, Brother Marx has already explained this un-capitalizing process in full detail.
          Once the iconography is “architected” (as the Trumpeters say), and your self-constructed symbolic gematria tables (replete with onion-like layers of meaning) are complete, communicate it to whomever you feel appropriate. This will not be easy at first, but with practice, it will save your skin. And your imagination is the only limit as to how you might put that skin to good use.
But, of course, demonic possession is nine-tenths of The Law.

          Step Don: Engage in self-harm.
          Now that all the occult ritual infrastructure is in place - and you've sat down in a cardboard box facing southwest, and stood up to find yourself leaning sideways in one of those wacky-house tourist-traps somewhere in rural Wisconsin - pick out a good seventeen-minute song (it should already be part of your incantation playlist), and play “The Knife Game” along to the beat. Don't worry if you fail to stab yourself on the first play; you'll get better with Practice.
          Next, go somewhere where there's construction, and grab one of those thin white hard plastic poles that they stick into the ground. Walk around downtown, unapologetically whip yourself in the face and The Shins with it, and smoke J's. Your night will be over when you see Wayne Coyne talking to a Pakistani mystic who secretly used to be your T.A..
          This all goes to show that some experiences are universal.

          Step Ceph: Continue to self-harm.
          You know how I told you to smoke a lot of dope? And how you've been walking around toking fat doinks in front of everybody? And shouting at the mounted police “Hey, one if by land, two if by sea, motherfucker!”? Well, check this out: Put lit joints out on your forehead. Right above the bridge of your nose; between your Temples, in front of your pioneer gland. If that doesn't help decalcify things, then Nothing Will!
          You may experience a slight (that is, life-long) scarring sensation; a permanent burn Mark. But apostate Catholics have been putting joints out on their faces for Lent for millennia; there's no reason why you shouldn't do it too. After all, does it not say in The Book that the Second Coming and the End Times (not to be confused with American Babylon: End Times) is heralded by the Mark appearing on the right hand or forehead? (Revelation 13:16) And are Marks from self-harm not commonly found on the wrists?
          This is the Book of Mark incarnate; it happens to the best of us. The One who bears this Mark is the One who has True Value in his hardware; a true Profit. This Mark is the Talisman. The Power and the Will to acknowledge this Mark is the Shibboleth; that by witch we are to distinguish the Parishioners from the Apparitioners.
          He who Will not recognize the Talisman is no proper bearer of The Message. In such a case, it is entirely appropriate to shoot The Messenger.

           Step Van: Go outside (if you don't already live outside), and look for Adam and Eve. They are in your neighborhood.
           Recall the Roman rule of 150; every person, real or fictional (or legendary, or mythic), is an avatar of one of 150 Eternal personalities. They manifest themselves as the some seven billion living, as well as all of the dead and their many geists. Just as He will come if you invite Him in - just as it will come if you build it - if you go looking for them, you will find them. Blessed are the Seek.
           Invite a total stranger into your home. Figure out which saint he is, make sure he isn't dead or undead, and ask him to help you pick out an interior decorating scheme. Lay down a line; not one of cocaine, but one of stockings on the floor; in a line perpendicular to Mecca. But do it without painting yourself into a corner. This will help establish boundaries.
           Let the saint drug you against your will. Let him tie or tape you down if necessary. Inform him that, in exchange for imparting the jewels of arcane wisdom, he is obligated to steal one item from you. Finally, cease contact.

           Step Fam: Next, you must allow yourself to go so gloriously insane, that your delusions begin to possess an almost nightmarish beauty. If you can manage to go insane enough, you can actually come out the other side. You have to work through the insanity to get to the chewy sane center.
          Just as there's no wrong way to eat a Reese's, there's no wrong way to drive yourself mad (yes, the same way you would drive a car). Give yourself Capgras delusion, or Fregoli delusion (really, it's taster's choice). Implant false memories in your own mind. Give yourself paranoid delusions, but also pronoid delusions. Finally, mix it all together in a cauldron with a dash of Protagonist Syndrome, to make a nice bouillabaisse of Dissociative Identity Disorder.
          How? Hang out with people who have those disorders, and believe everything they say wholeheartedly. Believe their delusions even more faithfully than they do. As long as you can “relieve the stigmata” of mental illness, and avoid diminishing its seriousness, this will allow you to better empathize with others. Don't forget: mental illnesses are communicable.
          But just as Kohan explained about “how the light gets in”, once you let someone inside of you, you don't need to try to understand them and relate to them; you already are them! Want to write a story or an incantation from the perspective of somebody else, but can't get inside their head? Boom! You're already all up in there!
           It's like Roger said: it's just a little pin-prick. Thus, the task of understanding others becomes no more difficult than trying to understand ourselves (ha!)

          But once you see yourself standing atop this whirling planet – and see yourself from above and without, as if peering-in from outside, yet, at once, from within, the Universe, and even from the vantage-point of a god - you see yourself spinning as the planet. You see your pierced twin-souls, spinning, and revolving around one-another, like two puppies cozying into bed on a cold Solstice morn; or like a binary star system, its atomic mechanizations fueling your very physical being.
          You begin to see the Great Spirit as one which pervades you, others, itself, and all; and that each of us, in the midst of our spiritual quandary (again, prayer), is but a giant space-termite, nibbling away at the desiccating tree branches which, like streaks of heated gas, connect our galaxy's Roots (shoreshim) to the Branches (zemachim) in the Heavens. Which one is the netzer, we cannot know until Olam Ha-Ba.
           So too do you see that this ancient connection may be restored, if only the ancient symbols may once again manifest in the mind of a living mortal. You shan't refuse the call, but you must know when the time is right. Remember, time is mooney.

           Step Gisg: You know that Zen retreat I mentioned earlier? Accidentally walk past it on your way up a mountain. If you get to the top by midnight, and the moon is at its absolute fullest, then you're going to meet Björk, and solve that cryptic math-rock mashup riddle that you thought was the True Name of YHVH.
           It may sound crazy but like I've explained, the firmness and fervency of your belief makes it what Terence McKenna calls “true enough”. As above, so below. I mean, if Björk figured out the name of G-d before you, what makes you think you're going to Say Anything that'll pry the Word of G-d from Moses's dead hands?

           By now, you ought to have successfully induced psychosis. If not, change your drug regimen around and try again.
           But whatever you do, by all means, over-analyze the meaning of every word spoken around you. Even the tweets of birds, whether real or recorded. Over-analyze the meaning of every sound you hear. Even if they're not directed at you, know that the dark humour of the Universe, and the entropic irony of the cosmos, dictate that, ultimately, everything you hear is about you, regardless. Your inaction or silence cannot excuse you from joining The Dance or singing The Song.
           To get swept up in The Way is like watching Dancer in the Dark. It's like Bill meant to say; all the world is a (sound)stage. Like when you're tripping, and the Walls are breathing at you? Only the Trappists know why the Walls do this; only the Trappists hear at full volume what they have to say. They are the Root of the illusory Separation.

           To study the Word is to pray. To Know Her is to Love Her. To love God is to love oneself. And, as biochemists have proven, to fall in love is to go insane. And so, to know God, you must drive yourself so hopelessly mad that magick is all you can do. It's just like Howard told us; “first, you've got to get mad”. As within, so besides.
           It's like The Body said; “You can't make a Gypsy anthill omelette without breaking one of your eggs over an anthill, you can't put the egg before the horse if the chicken came before the egg, and you can't put Descartes before day-horse without giving yourself a night-mare, and invoking the Pale Horse and his fellow Horsemen. Heed the Mark, for Harvey Milk does The Body Good.
           Follow the examples set by Newton and Jung; scientists who realized that their research was no longer relevant, unless and until they were to dive into the realm of the collective subconscious, rescue the ancient symbols from Goddess Psyche, and set the gematria tables for a McKennan fish-dinner picnic on the noetic shore.
           Ain't nothin' to it but to do it. That, and to self-trigger, in order to catapult oneself into the face of God.

           Everything bad you've ever done will last forever. Everything mean you've ever said is being permanently recorded onto a giant straightened paperclip-wire in the middle of the galaxy, which is being fed on by a giant space-chicken at the Edge of the Universe.
           This bird-headed One (whom the ancients referred to as Osiris) reads every bad deed to its own duplicitous anima (St.-Peter-as-Maat), and weighs our sins against one of its own feathers. This is Judgment; this is the Reckoning (or, at least, I reckon).
           Every male you've ever met is God, every female you've ever met is Mary, and everyone else is the Holey BeJesus. Yes, every sin you've ever committed was committed against the Holy Family itself. So take care, and best of luck!

           You're losing it, I can tell. And that can only mean one thing: You are now just about ready to construct your sigil.
           Its shape should resemble that famed Sisyphian object; that incarnate single-fingered Glove of Love worn by Doubting Thomas but for Eternity Infinitesimal.
           That is; the shape of your sigil must represent the value of its currency.

           All is for nought. 1=0. Ave Chao.

           Ave Meyers.

This has been a (semi-) satirical piece.

Dictated on November 3rd, 2017
Transcribed, Edited, and Expanded on November 5th, 2017
Edited and Expanded on November 13th through 15th, 2017
Edited on May 2nd, 2018
Edited on January 17th, 2018

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