-to Carlyle, because I can’t conceive he is unconscious-

Anno Domini 2015 -1789 = L’an 226 de la Révolution.

First Part: In-Yuhcatiliz (Suchness, as in Sanskrit “Tathāgata”).

"Cada um de nós jurou o sagrado mistério e, embarçado este impenetrável escudo, nos apresentamos no campo confiados entramos no peleja, e não tardou muito a victória". -Oração 7 of Pedro Antonio Correia Garção.

Les mois Ventôse et Germinal.

Épinard (Vendredi, 6 de mars) 

On this date,  you, oh full of chutzpah Balam! (whose name means "shaman according to the order of the clowder")!, endowed as you are with cryptesthesia, you will go in spirit, on account of its Sorcerers Fair, at where no sastrugi ever will grow massed: tenebrific though pyrophoric Catemaco -a volcanic cauldron in the shape of a lake 11 kilometers long (11 being same as "elf" in German, of course!- by 8 -a kind of Moëbius strip!)-, with 12 islands in one of them inhabited by Thai macaques; and, in order to carry out that assignment, you will first take account of how intenerated your blue energy aura at such a point will be as regards at warmth and coolness, and also, as if by cat’s paw winds, at sticky effervescence. And then, after the fashion of an anthesis, you will jut out a fake body at some distance above and in front of the trundling bed on which you will be relaxing, and you will transpose an amount of your consciousness into it for some attention at how well you will keep recalling yourself and at how long the past of this oneiric experiences of yours will prove to having been in comparison with staple physical ongoingness (which must be for everyone a symbol of more numinous things, anyways!) In addition, you keep a perception of how "the 3 Fs": Forms, Feels and Forces from your astral surroundings will make your emotional field vibrate, while at once keeping an eye upon the skylight that your fontanel will be bound to become (in this latter case, kinesic percepts will resolve into visual ones). And, in Catemaco (or rather nearby, amid the Tequila ruins), besides, the one-eyed Marquis of Bradomin (and his little momism towards the Guadalupe Virgin, since he will turn out to be a priest of the Bucolic Church) and the Nagual Castaneda (just having arrived from Santa Fe, New Mexico in order to meet with the indigenous glitterati from Santiago Tuxtla), you will fall upon some unsavory types and quite a few shams reliant on mere ad hockery (none, at this time, from San Sebastian, Guatemala, city of warlock warlords), but, for a switcheroo, also upon the real stuff, the nonesuch, to wit, the Niño Fidencio -who turned into an owl four town when he was in his mother’s womb as “chalchíhuatl” (catamenial blood)- and the Holy Lost Child of Tlacuache, Guadalajara, plus Toltec art depicting other big neutered boys all of them in the process of ingesting those hallucinogenic brolly mushrooms called "water little kids". And you all by no means will talk with one another by resorting to the area Pipil Nahuatl speech, but by having resource at "emotional bits" instead of at phonemes, specially when chatting with the infamous "chaneques" (elves) associated with dalles, haunted houses, lose of the soul (hence, the seven knots spell on behalf of the ghost of some person), and archeological figurines.  

Platane (Dimanche, 22 mars)

 On your birthday, this year on a Sunday (it is to say, the dawn-to-dusk diurnal course when Catemaco ‘s spiritualists work on assorted issues, such as finding mislaid items), you will visit an exhibit of collages, and you will find, by dint of cherry-picking, a couple among them evocative of Atlantis whatever the thoughts of their creator would have been when he put them together: one of them, for instance, you will interpret to be a soaring machine (similar to a flying saucer, but of a coarser fabric than those of modern standards), and it will  through a window much looking, again, as a Moëbius strip that you will do so, much as Montaigne’s library turned out to be oval and the border between USA and Mexico gets a similar shape. On the other hand, although you are in no manner a crapehanger, still you will be hungry as well as suffering from formicative collywobbles and even from sexual trepidation and succorance in spite of no bugbears extant around, and such will affect your enjoyment of the experience as a non event: same “Interferences”  as they will manifest in your dreams as stupid people jumping in front of your pass.

Couvoir (Dimanche, 30 mars)

After entering a department store for free food samples, you will attempt to join all night long the frolic at a Gay Club much visited

by youngsters: but, serendipitiously, you first will notice and attend the serene and pious Earth Rest Hour of Electric Dark during which even the Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building will turn off their appliances and African choreography will be playing about in the meantime (which will be alright with you, who will be always after the new and beautiful in patterns). And, indeed, a handsome youth will desire you much at the said club! He will go by the name Moyocoyatsin (the Eternal Present) and you by that of  Ipalnemohuani (the Self).  He will lie to you in an asking mood whence are you, and you will lie to him in an answering mode: “From Tlalocán, Sanctuary of the Rain God Illapa as well as the library paradise for dead children (surveilled by Fat Mamas) and for fire painters, since I am an Heyoka -a sacred clown incinerated by lightning and more recently by your kiss”. To this, he will imagine his own vicissitude: what will there be any good in living as close to Tlalocán as he will do -side by side like Chorasmia and Sogdiana States or even like Platea Borough and that of Zeugma are (the latter one being, at this future time, a bridge made of ships), if he never will be able to cross over?  (he will be himself originally from Cluny or else from Jylland in the Novgorod country,  meanwhile you actually either a Pachenec or else from Paflagonia, Paristrion or some other place whose name will start with a “P”). At any event, you will comfort him by familiarities!

Hêtre (Vendredi saint, 3 avril)

 In order to be at the disposal of that daft rather than deft one: President Taft of yonder age -to wit, our own “in-yuhcatiliz” (Suchness)- when human minds -except for that of the great philosopher Bergson- will interpret time as space just as it will have been prophesied by the Nahuatl codex, you will materialize yourself without rushing, via the Indirection Monorail twin to the Aztlan City, Turkey, one (which former at the time will trundle from Odo’s Xanadu Dominion to the Brazilian Cinábrio across Pátzcuaro conical pyramid where the tabascos will have to go naked but for long shirts, all the way left of the solar course), at its Esplandián California Station: Quinehuayan Beach fir trees cloud forest, for an offering of mead to the “huei atl cecec tzitzicaztli tlacualli” (undertow spindrift) of the Ayotla (the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantis Ocean, the World Ocean) over Panutla (the walkable sea), and that will include a Sephardic or witchy dance around a Good Friday kissable cross:

 “Our Mitzvah and Buddha’s versus Allah and Cuba

is a theta-waves siesta and it’s a magenta

Freemasonic acacia;

Tis’, chartreuse and without truce,

a dahlia, a fushia!”

Within this elevated train’s mess wagon (from one of whose sideboards somebody will have just purloined the neon sign that would have otherwise read: “No way will be effortful if it is to start from your heart”) to circumvent irrelevant conversation (and those pepper-uppers’ funk as well!), through a fanlight you will  scrutinize, by dint of your peripheral vision, your night sight, at the motions and sounds of an absconded tabby who, in turn,

will be rubbernecking back at you through the bay window of her dwelling, and thus you will contemplate to boot from a panoramic cenital detail plane in mobile focus the trussed gables of the circumambient township erections though their chattel itself will not be much to to talk about, except that she will be catnapping on the front office loveseat.

Hands will not be shaken while you will chat with each other oracularly (albeit neuroticism will get strewed all over you will have been musing about…. Nevertheless, you will  be able to cull them back up right away whence they will  have flowed):

"I make sense of only something", you will  display your upper ivories while tilting your intellect.

"What are you suggesting, oh telpochtontli (untried boy)?", she will cantillate mentally to you in response.

"I have pricked up my inner ears at what you presume, but not at what you did not envisage. Therefore my understanding of your thoughts is just partial", you will glance at your upper North side.

“Well, wow, look what flights of fancy you got, noquichpiltzin (my beloved boy)!... it is that I occur to be Balzac’s Shagreen, the Bottled Imp and Aladdin's Marvelous Lamp!”

In addition, both of you about to fall asleep between Q and A;…

  in fact, in less than an hour, your cosmos, thus far unexpurgated, will have taken a basal turn of the oologic kind: you will palpate yourselves regained (it is to say, you will be still as tense as usual, but at the same time you will feel how forthwith you will re-become delighted with life even though “you are born; you live; you die”. Now, of course, if you will allow it to leave once, you will not see it ever again).

And anew she will kibitz you with a voice this way, listen: “You will be a seductive vamp, a seductive elf; and yet, of course, you will have trouble establishing rapports because, look!, of three reasons, albeit their underground cause, let’s say, will be a common one, to wit, your Aries energy Big Bang, the leakage of inattention, and emotional lube lack. So, grow self-assured, self-assured, self-assured… Tell them: Did you have any owner before me? Guys love to; love me, obey me. And let's do something cool: you please... open and hug me. I will be safe and people like to; relax easy and as you close your eyes now, it somehow makes you want to imagine that nice place you told me about because two plus two equal four and so you feel good: for example you can good tickling at the nice places.”

Second Part: Tlacamecayoámatl (sutra, suture).

Er ist Menschen ein Vorbild, er ist der Weg, er ist der Fürer, der antreibt: “Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint”. -Goethe.

In the course of

Le mois Floréal,

this month well-nigh consumed, its Days -taking a running stretch to elapse- will be springing up in the guise of wholesome panaceas pussyfooting down as the sun will tiptoe up, night digested by diurnal shine, howbeit they will be ceiling zero, without reaching any showdown whatsoever, and all of them at once swaddling you:

your acute glance will glimpse a sign reading “Home of the Books”, and, by dropping into it, you will ascertain it to be a binding manufactory where, along with tea and wine and an argument between two authors as regards whether The Untied Statements of A miracle will be a proper domain appellation or else, a Fair Book Day will be celebrated on

Aubépine 23 avril  

(“Child”, will have warned Joseph Hilaire Pierre Belloc, “do not throw this book away”). 

Subsequently, on

Muguet 26 avril,

Child Day will be solemnized all over the slum territory, but on its Culture Castle it will be rather observed Dance Day (accordingly, then, it will be all as in Gwendolyn Macewen’s poem: “The Child Dancing”!)

Per contra, on

Valériane 13 mai, Carpe 14 mai and Fusain 15 mai,

the Gay Anti-Homophobia Parade (in no way similar to the Procession on which you will have precedently laid your eyes: Candlemass, to wit, not of the shamed and/or immoral, but of revenants scraping by; in fact, on second thought, it will be more like one described by G. Jacobik this wise: “Under the Sign of Walt Whitman”), you won’t witness, since just prior to it you will have been deported and feeling… free at last! (albeit, you will have antecedently asked from the run-down cops who will had put you into the Klein Bottle

along with some other djinns, to shoot you dead). Free at last given that you will be now out and away from the wilderness where Pagan deities would have fled, and so right back to that land where moo juice and nectar (viz., the nutritious and the delicious) will be as much of a bounty as Adam’s ale is aplenty on the planet Mother Earth, not to mention that such largess will come cascading down via the sluices of Freemasonic Government and those of the  Western Buddha of love and faith’s devotees, and  as far down as, other things, yourself -a tramp- will turn out to be extant (paradoxically, you will have a chance to visit anything cost free among the museums at the park of this stately suburb which nearly bears your signature: e.g., the glasshouse, where a Tasmania velvety cerulean lily will remind you of the sapphire Atman; an enclosure with lodges from several countries in each of which you will get a chance to display your savviness  as regards mores -say, by asking Irish folks: “Do you get any leprechaun here?”. And, even although you feel so unwashed, it will help how your sophisticated French friend always go with as few baths as fiends do; a palace whose chambers will have been branded after Spaniards head-towns, and, for this reason, even one, the 201, will prove to be your very namesake; and, elsewhere, Japanese canvases covered with plant parts instead of paints and also a notice in regard to the coming soon of Vermeer’s artwork (you will be fond of this painter granted that you will be of the opinion that what he rendered on the canvas were the Higher Selves of his models). 

Indeed, you will follow an inner prompting to lie down for the night in a vacant lot by a solitary mica superstructure by the lapis lazuli mid-air freeway, a Pinnacle, crowned by an (almost as gigantic as it) crane due to its being yet in the process of erection (usually you will get as a setting environments in process of formation, to bring you back to Framework 2, יצירה) and this one of yours will aver itself to be a most prudent decision, seen that the said waste will be bounded on right by a Soup Kitchen (called “God’s Everlasting Arm” or something of the sort: an equivalent of “Father Chava’s Breakfast Emporium For The Homeless” on the other, wrong side of the tracks), yes, an eaterie enhanced by the Israeli flag and a map of the Holy Land and an electric Menorah; and on left by a wee and crisp charming church whose bishop and founder will be an ex-pimp, a  fane of which you will comment to your spiritual coach on a letter: “I should toot up now that I read your lesson about Free Fall Yoga, exactly after I had sit on a pew to rest for awhile, and hence I picked up and

opened a brochure by chance on the page where it read ‘walk on water’, and, immediately afterwards, a lady sat by me with a book by Madeleine l'Engle gone by the self same title! Thus, if omens are to be valued, is the Holy Ghost insinuating me to thereupon live with inner ease?!” And, in this manner settled (your bed roll you having stashed beneath the shade of the Oak Shop, namely, the Well of the Sevenfold Oath), you will remark a panoply of like sleepers: first, a couple making shrieking love; then, a Marine who will have participated in Viet Nam ongoing Cleansing (as he will describe it: “We left behind a tool in their garage, and now both they and us appear to have a claim to it!”) wearing a T-shirt with the slogan “May it be human prerogative to err and divine one to forgive, but my corps does not follows any of them” and something like a sargent epaulet on his beret and a data metal medal to split between his neck and his boot just in case an infernal machine hit him; and so forth…

Thus and thus, during this huehuetiliztli (bond of years, world-age), Hairy Hare, who will be your lover and a Toltec Tlatoani (the Toltecs, blanket beasts of burden, never will experience bankruptcy or blahs, as their engagements merely will consist of making a wandering), he is saddened because you are about to leave town, or home, in Mexico (on the grounds that, thither, Chapultépec will be eventually founded by Enoch; meanwhile Calhualán, likewise

accounted for within reach of on-yon-spot, will be the area where the figure 8 will prevail; and in Tollan, just yonder, the Aztec virile god will cry at last as a seasoned Tibetan queen bee will distribute papery banderoles), and then you will find yourself arriving at the Great Plains as well as atop the snowy Smoky Mountains: places where you, being so much a friend to the Rapid Rabbit, the said Tlatoani, you will render “a face” to your prentices and will bring about that things have a surface, an appearance (in ixtli language, in yóllotl parlance, the face means the personality, whilst the heart stands for the individuality). He, the Rabid Rabbit (to be considered “the Lady of Your Flesh” since he will take baths in the temazcal to make you happy) and you yourself, when you and he will be wiser (older), you both will have begun to exercise the arts of which you, my pair of bosom chummies, will have come adorned: it is to say, both of you will be a couple of dedicated Gay workers, lovers and computer programmers; will grow by overcoming resistance. Wisdom you, guys, will not study, but will discover at your own disposal nonetheless: the magical secrets will be revealed to you by voices that will come by the way of silence… in the meantime, Mr. Homophobic will be not, as he will believe, the sun or the moon or a star: he will believe in such greatness on account of seeing his metallic feathers shine, but they will do that just by reflecting original light from heaven.On the other hand, then everything will be somber, it will rain and rain and won’t stop raining

before your eyes.; and yet, others will be able to perceive your Bunny Coney as

being fair and square, as he will display an at once chock-a-block and overflowing (it is to say, a hyper-roundy) kisser; zaftig eyes, soft temples and a softer, yeah, even effortless-looking mentum; a consumptive but high-brow whiffer and a famished labium. And nor even any lanugo. On the other hand, your whip hand  will be shown by teeny-weeny, lower frons, and a comprehensive nose, “tougher” (more angular) cheeks and a unyielding chin. In addition, how yours will be small sensitive hands: a gentleman-thief’s; and his, elongated with oval yet trapezoidal nails: those of a tinker.

Sixty laps your Bony Bunny’ll cry: "This beach, oh, my Goodness, do not leave lest I start shaking like the leaf of an aspen, or both or each and either the trees birch and beech!  If you do yield at splitting itch, as a puppy bereaved bitch I will whelp or a willow: a she-mastiff whether you go in worse weather or this Eve, and thusly I will howl on my very darkest pitch". And at this you will reply to your Long Ears Underground Mutton: "I'm an American brave Satan Native; on lands of the free, first hostile manfolk! Brake me not, let me break the oak yoke, become -against those ones invasive- uncreated, creative, assertive, active just as eye-unbatting lizards ginger! And let me now wizard well the inner injure -with the sling of David and his shofar-,of my  bateye’s sugar  (vinegar 'tis so far). Let me depart to be its avenger!".

Well then, surroundings are surely a projection of thought. Hence, you will text to him, your Oryctolagus Cuniculus: “My soul mate, remain an angel, that's why I fall in love with you (and look, I've done only three times in my life!). Personally, I had never received such kindness of heart of a person, but the natural hardness of our species that once mentioned me.  The nation of Jeffy, Abe and Teddy, of M.L.K. Jr. and Tasunka Witko, seems a clean heaven, beauty of the mind made things. How unfair life that live there when you belong here!”.

Oignon (21 de juin), Fathers Day.

The reader of the current blog probably won’t want to encounter an event like this coming one in his/her life: “On  Mélisse (25 mai) you will have endured incarceration for awhile!”, will giggle at you your godhead, Eleggua, the imp, the Trickster, the Lord of Indirection, soft-pedaling back to you with a Bacardí bottle and a Cuban cigar in hands meanwhile both of you will dangle  from the rope ladder over to Garbage Beach (site towards the far end of the Sunset Cliffs). Whilst thus teeter-tottering, will you tremble and therefore stay  in no way capable of telling him of your trepidation at his statement?  No: you will remain as much nerve-settled as San Diego Harbor (how tamely does move Today the Ocean Pacific itself at San Diego Cardiff-by-the-Sea, anyways?)!

At any rate, the first incident  fulfilling the reported prophecy will have place as an outcome of your detention by from whom you will plea for ammo into your high-browed gray matter:  the Mexican “Fairness Enforcers” -their intent will being that of delivering you to the Mexican Immigration because of your carrying no entry permit into the Aztec Empire to show to the New Spain Viceroyalty  authorities (some time before such, you will get working as a cook at a Mexican Detox Center and wondering at all the disrespect as regards human rights that you will witness there: the kidnapping of drug-abusers allowed, even agreed upon on a monetary basis, by their own family members; the Marathon-long sitting sessions inside such haunted houses much congeneric with Gaudí's dragon maws and where the asylum medical person will claim that poor people do not really need to eat given that they can keep feeding on their own organism. Personally, you will hallow your own seclusion within it so that you will  manage to review the part of yourself that Jane Roberts could have sobriqueted "Your Guilty Self", to wit, the tenets of the religion of your rearing -yon of the god whose name means "Purposeful Causation" according to Onkelos-, which sect erstwhile you would determine to split altogether from). To hold to honesty, even the Tijuana Father Chava’s Breakfast Compound for the Homeless (whose official physician will prescribe you laundry soap for feet fungus) and the Mother Teresa Curates' similar program (led by a unyielding Pollack in order for their order to persist in accordance with their Pope), for all their kindness, participate of the described gaol-like approach if we nest in keeping with your own assessments after what you will witness within they both, and in spite of how the Don Bosco’s portrait extant in the former one will loom up and stoop down larger-than-life before your sight, and despite the resident young rogues who will lurk and lurch in the self same venue turning out to be conclusively unlike you (as much as, at once, they will prove to be absolutely like you); plus your piously wondering on whether the aforementioned Mother's relic (a sample of her blood) might perhaps taste like the Eucharistic wort itself?!  -considering, it is, that in the latter monastery you will not be granted leave even to work on the present online journal, and another rascal you will have fallen for will be expelled without further ado from the indicated sort of a “home” on account of his proclivity for marihuana: how great a prick at it and what a stitch for you! By the contrary, at Avenel, the elf-sounding named sequestering environment where you will first survive institutionalized in America (due to your love for a lad), an easy-going Polish lady artist coach will breathe and you will squeeze her clay together to cast an electric chair. Along with it, you will feel nearly in Tepeyotl -the elvish “Heart of the Knoll”- as if you were the very Tezcaltipoca in his eternally youthful manifestation: Telpoechtli; just as later on you will contemplate him breezing to brush the lint of September chaffy stubbles out  from the Squaw’s Teat, or else Tláloc in April at Tecate, the magical hamlet in Mexico’s  boondocks, or even San Diego Elvin Forest. At Lompoc Federal Prison, whither you will march to subsist the most iced by the very ICE (as in the majority of the others enclosures I will refer at, the first one of them will being Atlanta, where you will lead a riot against it after finishing an artwork representing the Nigerian divine hero Shango thunderbolting this equivalent of Atlantis, and offering some of your blood to him; and, furthermore, you will save over you a picture of your first beloved and a shank), at Lompoc, I was telling you, nevertheless you will prevail able to paint symbolist-expressionist canvasses for your witchy only female friend (and you will share your late evening oneiric adventures with one another, and you will word fantasy tales together; and you will get, moreover, a couple of French great pen-pals), and, hence, your simile for this almost Green Mile will hold as Buddha and the Gioconda’s smile. At Lewisburg -another U.S. Penitentiary-, you will have gotten at the very last familiar with Star Trek and its terms "baryonic matter" and "λ energy" (the Physical and Astral Planes, respectively), while your will favorite character in its cast will be supple and yet efficient Odo -an embodiment of Huna Shaman pono principle. Now, coming back to the future happenstances more coincident with your author’s present, the Mexican Immigration will take your Oya Amulet for safekeeping; and, alas!, with all the hassle going on, you will never recover it from them. Well, this Oya, Our Lady Of Death, is the Yoruba goddess of the nighttide gust and of the Market. She will have spoken to you enlightening counsel in the form of bodily sensations via her talisman: "In order to hypnotize him, suggest a word whenever your interlocutor is looking for one. Organize a slanguage of your own —aweless utterances supervened by concessions, polisemies and equivocalities, inanities bracketed by sage frowns —those immigrate into his subconscious porting your actual substance". It would have been adequate to make a go with the Leo deportee that you will find in those quarters! Even so, by an Amerindian, you will be given thither instead an Indigene lucky piece which will indeed bring you out of there. And all this talk about communication will make you at this point reminisce the age when you will delay in Memphis (Tennessee’s, not Mizraim’s!) statesville as a part of your grounding, since in that bastille you will translate (or pony?) the Mass for its nice chaplain and also, protesting against the very accursed ICE, once will go stark nude as David and Adam while engaged in a hunger strike which you will rename "fasting" in your explaining things out to yon cleric (another bare-type fashion,  according to Eleggua, would occur by performing only accurate motions, at the end of sticking around misty amidst the decidedly milling masses of mortals).   At any event, the Mexican Immigration will deliver you atop the talud to the accepting American one, those drain tiles lay masons whose  badgers will continuously swab away most foreign nationals  (who will hum like the Dominion First People do, and in tune with Galileo: “All in all, you’re just another brick in the earthen wall!”; howbeit, on second thought,  you yourself, by the act of pushing your prayer note into one of its fissures, even you will recognize around this spot, by its growing scent against your nostrils, the nearness of your privy butt: both, Voltaire and Buddha's  Enlightenments -something that you will have lacked when locked up in tyrannical  Fidelio Opera Island  with antecedence to your crossing the stew, granting that in that land, even when in the Rurban High School, you, who will be rather well able to live with problematic feelings folks, you will have to face only the science-minded folks’ vacant stares. Well then, albeit it will be at Avenel that you will meet the no nonsense shaman Gurdjieff and the fairies to boot, and at Atlanta Pen. where you will come, thanks to a namesake of yours, across Kashmir Shivaism  (the Yoga of Supreme Identity), however it will be during your first stay at the Leavenworth one that you will reconnect with the Seth Material (see “Jane Roberts”, supra) and with Besant  Theosophy. In any case, the thraldoms by now more directly impinging upon your presence will be those at, in succession, two of the Sheriff Central Jails dismally antiseptic immurations altogether after your being hog-tied by a bird dog that plausibly will pop out either from Frank Morrison or more likely from Dashiell. And in it you will befriend a schizophrenic youth who will presume himself to be the reincarnation of some Pharaoh and will see you as a prior lifetime conquistador (in addition, he will make it aboundingly crystal-clear to you that in defiance to the desert withering land of the Nile, yonder they will crop  non-wuthered wheat). Besides, another Leo (a feral beast leaping over humans in their own right viciously cultivated, who, in turn, this wise and guise will become able to make a go of his instinctual demeanor):

you will have realized his impending approach, although you will not do so with open hands. And a fair-skinned biker light and fair to you. And a Red Skin guy to whom you will be fair and light howbeit much you will tease and buffalo each other...  Be that as it may, will any of this be really important? Because to you what will be of real import is going to be TIME as manifested in NATURE!

And yet, you won’t prefer to be ignorant of the antecedent, since doing so would prove to be for you a greater still source of halpness even if, whether only for you, this dorm will be tantamount to a Purgatory with no privacy: kind of like the vicinity that dismayed one of the Narnia’s witches - perchance the Third Astral Subplane, or the area betwixt the Astral and mental Planes, since both of them are lacking in paraphernalia (in comparison, nevertheless, the  JC County Jail where you will have been all along 1984, a literal shit-hole!) How meaningful, then, the existence of Tahuanchan City, whose name will have meant “You Attempt To Get In Touch With Your Natural Dwelling” (i.e., Aztlan, or Atlantis, the White Megalopolis, the Heron Metropolis)! Nonetheless, all things considered,  the turn of the 21st Century in the United States will be for you just as Pretty Little Poppy will sing about: “A boy found a dream upon a distant shore”.  As for your second sojourn in Leavenworth, you will meet during the corresponding stopover another Skin bosom chummy to squirrel perceptions with him, and shielding from that of the cops whenever he will be after the next buzz pony: undoubtedly, you will enjoy sort of a mutual chemistry! Moreover, there will be the pussies: Destrier and Rounsey and Bits of Ground  (she will bite you with as much mellowness as later on you will click on your mouse). And you will work at the mess hall: a

fitting task -reiterative, helping your brain from going back to suffering thoughts. Finally, at Marion, you will quit for the time being attending the sweat lodge (and, still and all, you will be beaten for some Native American bullies eager to buffalo the Wasiku). You will practice Judaism. You  will house with a vampire-lore lover. Now, always the plagiarist, you, oh Eleggua's son!, you will have borrowed these experiences, these ideas, from the Mental Plane (which you will have so just visited); and I have will be ponied them from even you (just before, we will have been innocent; now, wise -and yet, still asking to ourselves: "How come may they all not let me be, but continue to badger me so?"). These ideas-experiences might be thus resumed:

Lots of things will appear to be scientifically reasonable up to the moment when you honestly will examine them. Conversely, every single magical event, even as it will seem just normal, it will eventually collapse into the unexplainable. Finished on Tabac (4 juillet), in the meantime crooning: “I have seen the lights of gay Broadway, Old Market Street down by the Frisco Bay”, by Beale Street Blue.

Le mois Messidor

Chalemie (18 juillet)

On this 24 hours period reserved for the activity  (a seven-days calendar period  before, there was another celebration -Comics’), exquisite inhabitants carried out the parade called Pride, which is that of the Gays. I placed myself at  the space of especial darkness cast by  the distinct crown of a perennial wooden plant site just on the spot where the two steady flows of the desfile came together from different directions to have it  coming into activity and view. I felt overjoyed that at least 1+1  synagogues participated, as well as a congregational  denomination  with no god or anything, so being blatantly borderline Pagan-Anarchist. But it rained and rained and rained, and everybody was happy.

« L’AN 226 DE LA RÉVOLUTION » (Chronique onirique d’un voyage entre les mondes, les prisons et les mythes)

I. IN-YUHCATILIZ (LA TELE QUALITÉ)

« Cada um de nós jurou o sagrado mistério e, embarçado este impenetrável escudo, nos apresentamos no campo confiados entramos no peleja, e não tardou muito a vitória. » — Oraison 7 de Pedro Antonio Correia Garção

Anno Domini 2015 – 1789 = L’an 226 de la Révolution.

Épinard (Vendredi, 6 mars)

Vous, ô plein de culot (dont le nom signifie « chaman selon l’ordre de la clowder »), doté de cryptesthésie, vous irez en esprit, en raison de son [à combler], là où aucune sastruga ne poussera jamais en masse : un chaudron volcanique en forme de lac de 11 kilomètres de long (11, « elfe » en allemand, bien sûr !) par 8 (une sorte de ruban de Möbius !), avec 12 îles, dont l’une est habitée par des macaques thaïlandais.

Pour accomplir cette mission, vous prendrez d’abord en compte à quel point votre aura d’énergie bleue sera amollie par la chaleur et la fraîcheur, et aussi, comme par des vents patte de chat, par une effervescence collante.

Puis, à la manière d’une anthèse, vous ferez saillir un faux corps à une certaine distance au-dessus et en face du lit roulant, où vous vous détendrez. Vous y transposerez une quantité de votre conscience pour une certaine attention :

• la façon dont vous continuerez à vous rappeler de vous-même,
• la durée que le passé de cette expérience onirique se révélera avoir été, en comparaison avec la continuité physique de base (qui doit être, pour tout le monde, un symbole de choses plus numineuses, de toute façon !).

De plus, vous garderez une perception de la façon dont « les 3 F » :

• Formes,
• Sensations,
• Forces de votre environnement astral feront vibrer votre champ émotionnel, tout en gardant un œil sur la lucarne que votre fontanelle sera amenée à devenir (dans ce dernier cas, les percepts kinesthésiques se résoudront en percepts visuels).

Et, dans [à combler] (ou plutôt à proximité, au milieu des ruines), d’ailleurs, le Marquis de Bradomín borgne (et sa petite mômisme envers la Vierge de Guadalupe, puisqu’il se révélera être un prêtre de l’Église Bucolique) et le Nagual Castaneda (venant de [à combler], Nouveau-Mexique, pour rencontrer les glitterati indigènes de [à combler]), vous tomberez sur des types peu recommandables et pas mal de simulacres reposant sur de la simple bidouille ad hoc (aucun, à ce moment, du Guatemala, ville de seigneurs de guerre sorciers), mais, pour un échange, également sur la vraie affaire : l’incomparable Niño Fidencio — (qui s’est transformé en chouette pour quatre villes quand il était dans le ventre de sa mère comme « chalchíhuatl », sang cataménial) — et le Saint Enfant Perdu de Tlacuache, Guadalajara, ainsi que l’art toltèque représentant d’autres grands garçons châtrés tous en train d’ingérer ces champignons-ombrelles hallucinogènes appelés « petits enfants d’eau ».

Vous ne parlerez en aucun cas entre vous en ayant recours à la parole Pipil Nahuatl, mais en utilisant des « bits émotionnels » au lieu de phonèmes, surtout en discutant avec les tristement célèbres « chaneques » (elfes) associés aux dalles, aux maisons hantées, à la perte de l’âme (d’où le sort des sept nœuds au nom du fantôme de quelqu’un), et aux figurines archéologiques.

Platane (Dimanche, 22 mars)

Le jour de votre anniversaire, cette année un dimanche (c’est-à-dire, le cours diurne de l’aube au crépuscule où les spiritualistes de [à combler] travaillent sur divers problèmes, comme la recherche d’objets égarés), vous visiterez une exposition de collages, et vous trouverez, à force de cherry-picking, un couple parmi eux évocateur de l’Atlantide, quelles qu’aient été les pensées de leur créateur quand il les a assemblés : l’un d’eux, par exemple, vous l’interprétererez comme une machine volante (semblable à une soucoupe volante, mais d’une étoffe plus grossière que celles des standards modernes), et c’est à travers une fenêtre ressemblant, encore une fois, à un ruban de Möbius que vous le ferez, tout comme la bibliothèque de Montaigne s’est avérée être ovale et la frontière entre les États-Unis et le Mexique obtient une forme similaire.

D’autre part, bien que vous ne soyez en aucune manière un oiseau de malheur (crapehanger), vous aurez faim tout en souffrant de crampes d’estomac fourmillantes (formicative collywobbles) et même de trépidation sexuelle et de secours, en dépit de l’absence de croque-mitaines autour, et cela affectera votre plaisir de l’expérience en tant que non-événement : les mêmes « Interférences » qu’elles se manifesteront dans vos rêves comme des gens stupides sautant devant votre passage.

Couvoir (Dimanche, 30 mars)

Après être entré dans un grand magasin pour des échantillons de nourriture gratuite, vous tenterez de vous joindre toute la nuit à la folâtrerie d’un Club Gay très fréquenté par les jeunes. Mais, par sérendipité, vous remarquerez et assisterez d’abord à la sereine et pieuse Heure de Repos de la Terre dans l’Obscurité Électrique (Earth Rest Hour of Electric Dark), pendant laquelle même la Tour Eiffel et l’Empire State Building éteindront leurs appareils, et une chorégraphie africaine sera jouée entre-temps (ce qui vous conviendra, vous qui serez toujours à la recherche de nouveautés et de beauté dans les motifs).

Et, en effet, un beau jeune homme vous désirera beaucoup au dit club ! Il s’appellera Moyocoyatsin (l’Éternel Présent) et vous, Ipalnemohuani (le Soi). Il vous mentira en demandant d’où vous venez, et vous lui mentirez en répondant : « De Tlalocán, Sanctuaire du Dieu de la Pluie Illapa ainsi que le paradis bibliothèque pour les enfants morts (surveillé par des Grosses Mamas) et pour les peintres de feu, puisque je suis un Heyoka — un clown sacré incinéré par la foudre et plus récemment par ton baiser. »

À cela, il imaginera sa propre vicissitude : « À quoi bon vivre aussi près de Tlalocán qu’il le fera — côte à côte comme les États de Chorasmie et de Sogdiane, ou même comme l’Arrondissement de Platea et celui de Zeugma le sont (ce dernier étant, à cette époque future, un pont fait de navires) — s’il ne pourra jamais traverser ? » (Il sera lui-même originaire de Cluny ou bien du Jylland dans le pays de Novgorod, tandis que vous, vous êtes en réalité soit un Petchénègue, soit originaire de Paphlagonie, Paristrion ou d’un autre endroit dont le nom commencera par un « P »).

En tout cas, vous le conforterez par des familiarités !

II. TLACAMECAYOÁMATL (SUTRA, SUTURE)

« Er ist Menschen ein Vorbild, er ist der Weg, er ist der Führer, der antreibt : Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint. » — Goethe

Hêtre (Vendredi saint, 3 avril)

Afin d’être à la disposition de cet homme plutôt dingue que dextre : le Président Taft de l’autre âge — c’est-à-dire, notre propre « in-yuhcatiliz » (Suchness) —, quand les esprits humains — (à l’exception de celui du grand philosophe Bergson) — interpréteront le temps comme l’espace, tout comme cela aura été prophétisé par le codex Nahuatl, vous vous matérialiserez sans vous précipiter, via le Monorail Indirect jumeau de celui de la ville d’Aztlan, Turquie (lequel, à l’époque, roulera du Domaine Xanadu d’Odo au Cinábrio brésilien, à travers la pyramide conique de Pátzcuaro où les tabascos devront aller nus, sauf de longues chemises, tout à fait à gauche du cours solaire), à sa Station Esplandián Californie : la forêt nuageuse de sapins de la Plage Quinehuayan, pour une offrande d’hydromel à la « huei atl cecec tzitzicaztli tlacualli » (ressac de courant sous-marin) de l’Ayotla (l’Océan Pacifique, l’Océan Atlantide, l’Océan Mondial) sur Panutla (la mer praticable), et cela inclura une danse sépharade ou de sorcière autour d’une croix du Vendredi Saint à embrasser :

« Our Mitzvah and Buddha’s versus Allah and Cuba is a theta-waves siesta and it’s a magenta Freemasonic acacia ; Tis’, chartreuse and without truce, a dahlia, a fuchsia ! »

Dans la voiture-mess de ce train surélevé *(depuis l’un des buffets duquel quelqu’un aura tout juste détourné l’enseigne au néon qui aurait autrement lu : « Nul chemin ne sera laborieux s’il doit partir de votre cœur »), pour contourner la conversation non pertinente (et la panique de ces remontants aussi !), à travers un vasistas, vous scruterez, à force de votre vision périphérique, de votre vision nocturne, les mouvements et les sons d’une chatte tigrée dérobée, qui, à son tour, vous lorgnera à travers la vitre de sa demeure.

Ainsi, vous contemplerez, en prime, à partir d’un plan détaillé zénithal panoramique en mise au point mobile, les pignons en treillis des constructions de la ville ambiante, quoique leur cheptel lui-même ne sera pas très éloquent, sauf qu’elle somnolera sur le divan du bureau de devant.

Les mains ne seront pas serrées pendant que vous bavarderez ensemble de manière oraculaire (bien que la névrose se répandra partout où vous aurez médité… Néanmoins, vous pourrez les cueillir tout de suite d’où elles auront coulé) :

« I make sense of only something », vous afficherez vos dents de devant supérieures en inclinant votre intellect.

« What are you suggesting, oh telpochtontli (untried boy) ? », elle chantera mentalement pour vous en réponse.

« I have pricked up my inner ears at what you presume, but not at what you did not envisage. Therefore my understanding of your thoughts is just partial », vous jetterez un coup d’œil à votre côté Nord supérieur.

« Well, wow, look what flights of fancy you got, noquichpiltzin (my beloved boy) !… It is that I occur to be Balzac’s Shagreen, the Bottled Imp and Aladdin’s Marvelous Lamp ! »

De plus, vous deux, sur le point de vous endormir entre Questions et Réponses ; en fait, en moins d’une heure, votre cosmos, jusqu’à présent non expurgé, aura pris un virage basal de type oologique : vous vous palperez regagnés (c’est-à-dire, vous serez toujours aussi tendu que d’habitude, mais en même temps vous sentirez comme si vous redeviendriez ravi de la vie, même si « vous êtes né ; vous vivez ; vous mourez »).

Maintenant, bien sûr, si vous lui permettez de partir une fois, vous ne le verrez plus jamais.

Et à nouveau, elle vous suggérera (kibitz) avec une voix ainsi : « You will be a seductive vamp, a seductive elf ; and yet, of course, you will have trouble establishing rapports because, look!, of three reasons, albeit their underground cause, let’s say, will be a common one, to wit, your Aries energy Big Bang, the leakage of inattention, and emotional lube lack. So, grow self-assured, self-assured, self-assured… Tell them : Did you have any owner before me ? Guys love to ; love me, obey me. And let’s do something cool : you please… open and hug me. I will be safe and people like to ; relax easy and as you close your eyes now, it somehow makes you want to imagine that nice place you told me about because two plus two equal four and so you feel good : for example you can good tickling at the nice places. »

Oignon (21 juin), Fête des Pères

Le lecteur du blog actuel ne voudra probablement pas rencontrer un événement comme celui-ci dans sa vie : « Le Mélisse (25 mai), vous aurez enduré l’incarcération pendant un certain temps ! », vous rira votre déité, Eleggua, le lutin, le Tricheur, le Seigneur de l’Indirection, revenant à voix basse vers vous avec une bouteille de Bacardí et un cigare cubain aux mains, pendant que vous deux pendez de l’échelle de corde au-dessus de [à combler] (site vers l’extrémité des Sunset Cliffs).

Alors que vous êtes ainsi en train de basculer (teeter-tottering), tremblerez-vous et resterez-vous donc incapable de lui dire votre trépidation à sa déclaration ? Non : vous resterez aussi calme que le port de San Diego (comme l’Océan Pacifique lui-même bouge domestiquement aujourd’hui, de toute façon !).

En tout cas, le premier incident accomplissant la prophétie rapportée aura lieu comme conséquence de votre détention par [à combler] à qui vous plaidez pour des munitions dans votre matière grise cultivée : les « Enforceurs d’Équité » mexicains — leur intention sera de vous livrer à l’Immigration mexicaine en raison de votre absence de permis d’entrée dans l’Empire Aztèque à montrer aux autorités de la Vice-Royauté de Nouvelle-Espagne (quelque temps auparavant, vous travaillerez comme cuisinier dans un Centre de Désintoxication Mexicain et vous vous étonnerez de tout le manque de respect concernant les droits de l’homme dont vous serez témoin là-bas : l’enlèvement de toxicomanes autorisé, même convenu sur une base monétaire, par les membres de leur propre famille ; les sessions d’assise de la longueur d’un Marathon à l’intérieur de ces maisons hantées très congénériques aux gueules de dragon de Gaudí, où le médecin de l’asile affirmera que les pauvres n’ont pas vraiment besoin de manger, étant donné qu’ils peuvent continuer à se nourrir de leur propre organisme.)

Pour rester honnête, même le Centre de Petit-Déjeuner du Père Chava pour les Sans-Abri de Tijuana (dont le médecin officiel vous prescrira du savon à lessive pour le champignon des pieds) et le programme similaire des Curés de Mère Teresa (dirigé par un Polack afin que leur ordre persiste conformément à leur Pape), malgré toute leur gentillesse, participent de l’approche de type geôle décrite si nous nous nichons en accord avec vos propres évaluations après ce dont vous serez témoin en leur sein.

Et en dépit de la façon dont le portrait de Don Bosco existant dans le premier apparaîtra et se courbera plus grand que nature devant votre vue, et malgré le fait que les jeunes vauriens résidents qui se tapiront et oscilleront dans le même lieu se révèleront être finalement différents de vous *(autant que, en même temps, ils se révèleront être *absolument comme vous !) ; plus votre pieuse interrogation sur le fait de savoir si la relique de ladite Mère (un échantillon de son sang) pourrait peut-être goûter comme le moût Eucharistique lui-même ? (Considérant, c’est, que dans ce dernier monastère, vous ne serez pas autorisé à travailler même sur le présent journal en ligne, et un autre coquin pour qui vous serez tombé sera expulsé sans autre forme de procès du type de « maison » indiqué en raison de sa propension pour la marijuana : quelle grande piqûre à cela et quels points de côté pour vous !)

Au contraire, à Avenel, l’environnement de séquestration au nom à consonance elfique où vous survivrez d’abord institutionnalisé à [à combler] *(en raison de votre amour pour un garçon!), une coach artiste polonaise facile à vivre respirera, et vous presserez son argile ensemble pour mouler une chaise électrique.

Avec cela, vous vous sentirez presque à Tepeyotl — le « Cœur de la Butte » elfique — comme si vous étiez Tezcaltipoca même dans sa manifestation éternellement jeune : Telpoechtli ; tout comme plus tard vous le contemplerez en train de se rafraîchir pour brosser les peluches des chaumes de septembre de, ou bien Tláloc en avril à Tecate, le hameau magique dans la brousse mexicaine, ou même [à combler].

III. MESSIDOR (LE MOIS DES MOISSONS)

Chalemie (18 juillet)

Pendant cette période de 24 heures réservée à l’activité (une période calendaire de sept jours auparavant, il y avait une autre célébration — celle des Comics), des exquis habitants ont organisé la parade appelée Fierté, celle des Gays.

Je me suis placé à l’espace d’obscurité spéciale projeté par la dis[à combler].

Terminé le Tabac (4 juillet)

En fredonnant entre-temps : « I have seen the lights of gay Broadway, Old Market Street down by the Frisco Bay », par Beale Street Blue.