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
process – that 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
