THE LOVELY BONE COLLIDER

Is our Universe trapped inside the Large Hadron Collider?

By now we should be far enough along in our understanding of the motivations behind the android and plasmate conflict to permit a more detailed investigation of the events unfolding at the Large Hadron Collider at Cern, Geneva. As pointed out in other posts, the LHC is the new information hub of the android technosphere. It is kind of a high-tech computer processor that they have sunk into the living membrane of the Earth. More than that it is a reality generator. When Ingo Swann famously remote viewed the facility, he said he passed through the particle beam and witnessed another reality; complete with people, cars and houses. This reality is the software copy of the original Metrix Program. The duplicate program is running simultaneously with our own; but at a much greater speed. At present, the program is probably reiterating the events which lead to the cultural revolution of the 1960s, but it will catch up with our reality pretty fast; and could possibly overtake us. Within that reality, there will obviously, at some point, exist another Hadron Collider with yet another duplicate universe, running at even greater speed.

Needless to say, our reality is also stuck inside the particle beam of a larger Large Hadron Collider, itself inscribed within an even larger world, whose temporal-based reality is unfolding at a reduced speed proportionate to our own. This is the true meaning behind the differently enfolding temporal levels seen in the movie Inception (2010). We can call this universe Universe A, while our own universe can be called Universe B.

As stated numerous times by our media outlets, the purpose of the LHC is to recreate the conditions that existed shortly after the occurrence of the Big Bang; a phenomenon still visible in the Cosmic Background Radiation. How fitting and ironic it is, then, that the precise cause of the mystery which the LHC was built to unravel; is the LHC itself. According to this theory, therefore, we are moving inexorably away from the areas of collision, towards the powerful magnetic distributors and eventual sublimation back into the hydrogen filled canister. What makes the seemingly backwards order of events possible here, is the time-reversal invariance observed only at quantum levels.

First collisions.

It is with respect to the information that our world currently exists inside the photon stream of a larger LHC that I have consequently urged any and all resistance movements to abstain from its destruction. At present agents in Universe A are conspiring to destroy the LargeR Hadron Collider. Their foot is in the door. Perhaps in universes even higher up their fingers are on the trigger of an explosive device to send the whole installation up in smoke. But it will take months if not years for these actions to be carried out from our perspective. If the human resistance were to affect a similar kind of action against the LHC in our universe, the consequences for us and the other LHC universe's could be endless cyclical reiteration of the Modern Era. Only by breaking the cycle of action, can we hope to exact a lasting liberation. This will occur when all of the Universes in all of the colliders have sinked up; sometime in 2012. The resulting discrepancies in Universes will then no doubt cause the illusion to shut down, allowing for reality to manifest in a freer more fulfulling way; with balance and harmony.

If you have not read the other posts, you might be wondering why anyone would want to destroy the Large Hadron Collider in the first place. The reason for this is complicated, but it stems first and foremost from the unfortunate series of circumstances which saw all our loved ones trapped inside the cyclical confines of the LHC itself. Before the creation of the technosphere, and indeed before the arrival of the androids themselves, the human energy field (or soul) was generally absorbed back into the Earth's vital energy matrix, at the point of death. This place, known to the Greeks as the Elysium Fields, is all but deserted now, owing to the fact that the human soul is surprisingly sensitive to the electromagnetic field of the technosphere. Over the years, and with increasing frequency, human souls had become trapped in various ways within the telecommunications networks of the planet. Eventually these souls found themselves trapped inside the particle accelerator at Cern Laboratories; which, as I said earlier, is now the hub of all the technosphere's available routing activities.

Much pains have been taken to correct the situation, with agents from the Upper Realm going inside the vacuum chamber at the LHC to free the trapped souls from the particle beam. For a while there, things were not looking good and that is why we had operatives – like the Greek Security Team – attempting to disrupt the test firing at the LHC by hacking their computer systems in September 2009. Perhaps a more famous incident occurred when the plasmate – disguised as a bird – managed to drop a baguette "bread bomb" on some outdoor electrical equipment at Cern Laboratories, causing a power outage. In the end, however it was up to undercover agents to psychically cleanse the installation by remote view while on a psychedelic drug; Salvia Divinorum. All souls have now departed to either the south or north great trees and will remain their safe from harm, as previously intended. Despite the danger and complexity of the operation involved the homoplasmates met with little resistance from the Android RV Security at the installation itself. This is because, unlike the beings of the Upper Realms, they had no knowledge the electrically charged fields of the technosphere were having such an unwarranted effect on the population of human souls in the Elysium Fields.

It is difficult to know what they would have done had they known about it. Some have suggested that the RV security was particularly lax, on that day, because they wished to offer a concession; or olive branch. While it is nice to speculate on subjects like this, no one who participated in the Great Liberation of Souls on October 25th 2010 felt that the androids made much in a way of a concession to those who risked their lives, and sanity, to rescue their dearly beloveds. So, in honour of their great efforts, lets band and utter the cry of the resistance; Smash the Android Interlopers!

The Lovely Bones

Peter Jackson's 2009 thriller The Lovely Bones is a story about a young girl named Suzie and her posthumous search to find justice after her vile murder. Suzie is conducting this search from a mental realm called the in-between, a place between heaven and earth, which is constructed out of her own thoughts and memories.

Three images are used in the movie designed to convey this sense of enclosed mental space. These are; the snow globe, the ship in the bottle, and the bandstand. At the beginning of the movie, we see a youthful Suzie concerned for the well-being of a plastic penguin inside a snow globe. Her father reassures her that the penguin is quite happy. This form of concern for inanimate objects among children is not uncommon, and can persist into later life. From the AAC No. 11;

Now the literal meaning of that most enigmatic and disconcerting of objects; the snow globe, is finally grasped and it is no longer necessary to simply view it as a simulation of a wintery day.  It is, in fact, an allegory for the peculiar state of mind mankind finds itself. Locked, as it were, inside the bubble of his own existence, the outer world nothing more than the distorted reflections upon the convex surface of the glass. Unaware that he is drowning in air, or that he is utterly alone; he waits for a long time between the shaking of the glass, when his mind is turned upside down and there is momentary wonder at watching the world reorganise itself once more.

Likewise, the childlike wonder over how something as incongruously shaped as a model ship can fit inside a bottle, is an expression of the enigmatic worlds that exist within Suzie's imagination. The idea of entire worlds existing in small spaces is tallied by the concept that our world exists only within the confines of the LHC's particle beam. Likewise, the subterranean nature of this facility is parried by the underground lair construction by Suzie's killer and which, inevitably, serves as her tomb. When the time comes for Suzie to leave her internal world of mental imagery, she must travel in the direction of a beautiful tree. This tree is the Great Universal Tree that exists at the top of the world, and is gateway to all of the Upper Worlds.
The circular enclosure of the bandstand represents the centre of Suzie's mental Universe, which is focused on a broken engagement and the missed experience of a first kiss. It is only when Suzie is released from the desires of this promised moment of pleasure that she can begin to let go of her life and return to the world up above. Interestingly, this coincides with the moment of her burial inside a sinkhole, a portal to the underworld. I have not personally read the book on which the film was based, but if it is anything like the film it is a very 'self-contained' and complete piece of work indeed.

THE CIRCLE OF GOOD AND EVIL

It has long been a tenant of philosophy that opposites; such as good and evil, are not disconnected wholes, but rather form a continuum, which is often represented as a circle where both extremes meet at at some point, possibly off at infinity. In this diagram, I have represented the greatest good and the greatest evil, according to the doctrine of Androidosophy; in which Paradise/Nirvana represents a stage before the android apocalypse occurred, when the world was in perfect natural harmony. With the invasion of the Shade Alliance's androids, Earth's natural balance was upset, and a terrible war broke out. Eventually this war resulted in the world that we inhabit; the Current/Present Day reality of the Metrix.*

Directions on the Circle of Good and Evil;

• South East; Bucolic Meditation Phase
• East; Critical Shift 1
• North East; Paradise/Nirvana
• North; Total Chaos
• North West; Android Apocalypse
• West; Critical Shift 2
• South West; Bustling Urban Environment
• South; Current/Present Day Reality (Metrix)

At present, I would say that we are drifting towards the smartly dressed man with the revolver; located SSW. His aggressive demeanor could either be interpreted as a threatening gesture or a warning to turn back now, before it is too late. The region towards the West leads to the amassing of power, both financial and governmental. This struggle for power invariably leads to the creation of military hardware, which if allowed to go unchecked produces death machines, like the unmanned drones and sentry robots being employed in Iraq today. If this propensity towards mechanised warfare continues, it could – in theory – lead to Critical Shift 2 in the West and Robot Apocalypse in the regions beyond. The point at which this type of military supremacy meets the lives of the ordinary defenseless civilians – the farmers and shopkeepers – is the point from which Total Chaos (due North) ensues.

While ordinary present day reality is located as far away from this point, as the geometric form of the circle will allow, it is not to be considered the safest, or most desirable region on the graph. This is because it rests in the 'grey area', an area of distinct uncertainty that contains a jumble of all possible states of the graph at once. For this reason, it is equivalent to a state of Total Chaos; albeit a much more stable and measured one. The title of the most desirable region on the graph goes to the SE, as this is where spiritual transformation of mankind is being conducted at its highest level. We should all, therefore, endeavour to reach the region of the SE (the further shore), to effect real positive spiritual growth.

It should be understood that because the most extreme of these realities, the Robot Apocalypse of the NE, is currently taking place, at some level, in Iraq and Afghanistan, all of these realities exist by degrees in the world we inhabit, right now. As stated before, this war is about the destruction of the Homoplasmates, a group of human-alien hybrids who are man at his most spiritually evolved [SE].

Recently, a friend of mine told me of Holy Men in India who live for anything up to a thousand years. While he was in India, he spoke with some townspeople who told him that many of these Holy Men were living in the mountains that border Afghanistan and Pakistan, an area where the US military are frequently bombing. This evidence confirms the War on Terror, has nothing to do with a group of Islamic Extremists, but it is rather a spiritual war against the immortal Homoplasmates, who control reality.

But if the Homoplasmates control reality, why do they let the Americans drop bombs on them? I can only assume that accumulation of negative Karma within the Metrix is at a level that even these enlightened souls find difficult to alleviate. We should all, therefore, commit our small contribution to the ocean of enlightenment produced by these wise men, and in consequence steer the course of humanity away from disaster. Samaya!!

*The Metrix is an illusory reality, constructed out of the modular shift between the Earth's natural duodecimal harmonics and the globalised metric parametres introduced by the androids, a shift which - in a way - produces the flow of time and the nature of reality.

WAYS OF SEEING

On the January 7th while on a boat ride through the city I met up with an old college friend of mine, quite by chance. At the time I was reading a copy of John Berger's Ways of Seeing, and he rightly commented that it had been on the college reading list.
"Oh you remember that do you?" I said.
"Of course, I do. Everyone in college read that book, at one point or another."
"Well the thing that intrigues me most about it is the front cover," I said. It was a picture by Rene Magritte, the French Surrealist painter, called The Key of Dreams. "Do you have any idea what it means?"
"Well if I remember correctly it is to do with the incongruity of language and imagery."
"Quite right. But I believe it might have an even deeper meaning. Several, in fact."
"Oh? Well, seeing as we are going to be on this boat ride for sometime, I should think that you will enlighten me."
"Certainly. If you look though the window, which serves as the frame for the image you will see that the it is shaded black; the colour of night. Now notice that there are four different images in each section; a horse, a clock, a jug or jar, and a suit case. By applying the word 'night', which serves as a background to each of these four images, we can enhance or change their meaning, in turn. The horse becomes night-mare, the clock night-time, the jar a night-jar, which is a type of bird, and the suitcase a night-bag, as in overnight bag."
"That is very interesting. Perhaps it is The Key of Nightmares, as well as The Key of Dreams."
"That is what I think. I believe that Magritte was aware of a tradition that is stretches as far back into the dark mists of time, as mankind himself."
"This would perhaps be to do with the valise by any chance, would it?"
"Well as a matter of fact it does. How did you know?"
"Just a wild guess. But please go on I would quite like to hear your other theory."
"Well it has to do with how the words connect to their images in a deeply unconscious way and, in so doing, deepens their meanings rather than obscuring them, as once thought. For instance, did you know that the horse once served as a symbol of the rite of passage to the land of the dead?"
"Did it? I never knew that."
"It is quite true. Oisin rode to Tir na nOg on a horse and returned to Ireland on one, and many are the tales of Donn, the king of the dead, and his many horses. So you see, the horse and the door have a lot in common, both signify the entrance into another world."
"The clock and the wind, I suppose that has something to do with how time flies, which of course reconnects to the bird."
"That's correct," I said. "As for the jug, and the valise, this is where we get into more murky territory. The white jug, or bird, symbolises the Holy Spirit, which is commonly depicted as a dove in Christian iconography, and a favourite theme of Magritte's painting. The author Phillip K Dick specified that the Holy Spirit was an alien life form that had some connection to a holographic computer program called VALIS, hence the French valise instead of any other moniker."
"Ha, ha. Very good," replied my friend with a bemused smile. He then reached into his coat pocket and removed a well-used and rather unremarkable copybook, and after a quick glance around, he jotted something down in the margin of one of the pages. The handwriting and miniature doodles were very familiar to me. They could almost have been my own, I thought.
It was then that I noticed the boat ride had come to an abrupt end, at which point my friend said his farewells and went on his way. As he left, I noticed –for the first time– that he was carrying with him a very square and brown briefcase.

SUPERVALIS MIND-SWEEP

How Sweden and Monsanto are trying to control your brain.

I awoke that morning for the first time, though I had not fallen asleep. Awoke in the enlightened sense of Buddha nature, I guess is what I mean. The sun rose on the first hour, its brightness intensifying not by degrees, but by magnitudes. Then it rose again on the second hour, and upon the third, until it had reach its full lustre for that day. When I had finished reading I went into the kitchen for a cigarette, it was then, as I have told you, I was attacked by the alien creature known as the plasmate.

A storm had arisen in the South East in the morning, and was now blowing line after line of breakers at an eerily precise angle to the beach. The streets were almost empty, which was unusual for this time of the morning. Maybe everyone had given up on the idea of work, I thought. Maybe they had decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore, that the whole ball of wax could go and burn, for all they cared. I spotted one impish-looking woman by a car on the main street, she covered her head with her coat. Hadn’t I seen another woman walking down the street yesterday in the same fashion? It hadn’t even been raining then. Isis Unveiled.
No, I was wrong, it wasn’t that they had taken the day off work. Rather it was me, I had somehow transported myself into a parallel dimension full of horribly disfigured people who preferred to remain covered up, or indoors. At least until the moment of truth, when they would finally reveal to me who they were, really, and how I was in deep shit.

I went back into my room. The storm would blow over. The entire population of the country was just an hour late for work, that’s all.

I couldn’t sit still, my mind was filled with agitated thoughts. What if the plasmate was trying to drive me insane, I thought? I needed some time to sit and think things over. Conditions in my bedroom were cramped and fetid. I put on my heavy duty Parka jacket and spent perhaps twenty minutes, debating with myself about whether I should go out or not. What if I was right and everyone in the world had gone mad, all on the same morning? What if it was just me who was mad and anyone with half a brain would see that and try and lock me up? Hmmm.

The decision was out of my hands. I had already rolled a dice for it, and if it hadn’t been for the dice I might have remained paralysed with fear, for the entire morning. On the beach the waves came in at that same precise angle, one after another, with an unnerving regularity. I was looking forward to sitting down on the beach. The bad weather meant that I would certainly be alone, and the cool breeze and rain guaranteed that I wouldn’t overheat from too much mental activity. Dream on, I thought. The nine rung ladder that links the Apheck Planet with our own, is a Jacob’s ladder. You wouldn’t want to be on one of those, I thought. But if you were, how best to deal with it? Don’t go up, because you’ll eventually find yourself on the way back down. Just stay in the middle, it is the safest bet.

I was already in a fragile state of mind, so when the freight train plummeted from out of the station behind me I was not prepared for the shock. Damn that Inception movie, I thought, trying to subliminally persuade people to commit suicide by freight train. It was that damn plasmate's fault, as well probably. Plant a seed and watch it grow. Although technically, plasmates don’t grow from seeds, dormant or otherwise, they grow from eggs. If I had inadvertently cursed the world by researching the occult, and writing about it on the Internet, I would have to do something about it.

On my way back to the apartment I noticed a paper cup with Coke written on the side of it rolling around the ground in the wind. Valis, the shape shifting change child, had arrived in the little suburb of Liablath, and it had not arrived quietly, I thought.

Meadowsweet; V. dangerous; avoid.

It is said that a sure way to invite disaster is to touch the leaves of a Meadow Sweet plant. I had been drinking cups of Meadow Sweet tea all summer, having regarded the superstition as nonsense. Looking around my room now, at all of the dessicated Meadow Sweet plants, I wondered if I had not made a grave mistake. Far more dangerous than merely touching an enchanted plant was to bring it into one’s home. These had to be disposed of quickly.

Iron was a quick an easy way to dispel fairy magic. After disposing of the plants in the park, I went into town to look for something made of iron. The town was busier now, much too busy. Shouldn’t all these people be at work, I thought. The rain had eased but the wind still howled. Hallowe’en was only a day away.

Evidently the whole town was infected by the plasmate. It had started with me, by invading my mind through the senses. From there it had spread to everything I perceived, like a virus. My vision had become like a Midas touch. Valis had assumed the shape of every loose piece of garbage in the street and was evidently having a great time being blown about by the wind i.e the virus was now air-born. For some reason, it had even assumed the shape of a stir fried noodle dinner and sat itself on a footpath beside passing traffic, taunting me.

In the supermarket, Valis played me unusual songs over the intercom system. The female songwriter assured me that everything was OK now that she could see the world through my eyes. That was the plasmate's raison d’etre, I realised. It craved the experience of reality from as many different perspectives as the world would allow. It was obvious (from the tone of this particular song) that what motivated the plasmate to assimilate the whole panoply of human experience was not a spiritual endeavour or even intellectual curiosity, but rather a kind of desperate sexual urge; it used each sense input to replicate itself back into this world.

There was no doubt about it, wandering around the supermarket with my flatmate, whilst listening to messages from an alien larvae that had lodged itself in my brain was definitely one of the more novel experiences I had ever had.

Looking around at the other people I noticed that they all shuffled about nervously, heads down, avoiding eye contact. Their nervous shuffle became more pronounced the more nervous I became and I realised that we had all become psychically linked through the plasmate! Worse still, while no-one took any notice of each other, they all responded to me with big open smiles whenever I so much as glanced in their direction! It seemed that I had been assimilated into some kind of worker bee, hive mind. Their courteous smiles appeared to acknowledge me as the newcomer to the new family. My flatmate, the only one who did not appear so affected, remarked that their bumbling about was probably due to the fact that they were all on holidays in the lead up to Hallowe’en. That cleared one thing up anyway, why everyone was off work.

Phillip K. Dick the science fiction writer had claimed to have cross-bonded with the plasmate in 1974, but even he didn’t mention the hive-mind syndrome. He had also considered the possibility that what he had experienced was some kind of Russian psychotronic experiment. Perhaps I was wrong about the alien interloper, I thought, as I was paying for my shopping. Perhaps the Swedish Government, in league with Monsanto, had drugged the town’s water supply to see how their new hallucinogenic weapon would take hold. Monsanto had done something similar before, when they contaminated an entire batch of bread destined for a small town in France with LSD. What was it this time, some new type of drug that created the perfect society? This must be what they meant by the New World Order; a new order to the perceptual reality of things. A more peaceful and controllable society, where everyone knew what everyone else was thinking and nobody had any privacy anymore.

As I carried my shopping down the road, I pondered the logistics of such a drug. Suppose I alone had been effected, could it spread to the rest of the town via my own conscious perception? Was such technology even possible? I would have to know more about its chemical make-up and delivery system, to be sure. If the drug could effect anyone within my sphere of consciousness how could the Swedish scientists even hope to contain it to our small island, to ensure that they themselves did not fall victim to their own weapon? Unless they were already afflicted! That’s it! They were already under the influence of the plasmate, and the plasmate was the drug. So, I realised, the New World Order plot was an alien conspiracy after all. Everyone was now hooked on the little gelatinous egg-baby from Sirius B.

But that was all speculation. All I know is that I had tried to undo the curse I had put on humanity by cleansing my room of bewitched plants and getting my hands on some iron. And by the looks of it, I had failed. Imagine if you were one of those responsible for the collapse of the Global Economy; you would rightly expect to be punished for that. Now imagine that you have broken reality. Who is going to come along and pick up the pieces? Certainly no-one from within reality, as the problem is too fundamental. There would be a lot of angry people looking for answers.

Sure enough, the next day­–Hallowe’en–I got a visit from the local police force, the Garda Siochana. They had obviously tracked down the source of the disturbance to my apartment block. Probably by means of some psychotronic device, or some coordinate system within the mainframe system itself. When I got to the door of my apartment, a policeman was waiting for me. I ducked inside a shop and pretended to buy a drink, but when I came back out again I saw that the first Garda, who looked like Captain Feeney, had been joined by another younger plainclothes garda, which may have been his son Angus. The older garda flashed his badge and said that they wanted to ask me a few questions.

A still from Stanley Kubrick's 1975 movie Barry Lyndon

in which the eponymous hero is held up by Cpt. Feeney

and his son Angus. Incidentally, this movie was set and

shot, in part, in Co. Wicklow, not far from Liablath itself.

They wanted to know about an ambulance that had been seen outside my apartment during the week. Was that ambulance for me, I wondered? Had I died? Perhaps during that argument I had with my flatmate the other night. Then again it could be a ruse. In fact this was very likely. I told them that “I hadn’t been around much, on and off you understand. So if there was an ambulance,” and at this they laughed, “chances are I wasn’t… here to see it.” They asked me what I did for a living, and what company I worked for. I said I was a writer and that I didn’t work for any company.

I noticed that the garda who was taking down my details was nearing the end of his notebook. He cursed, and said he would have to get a new one soon. I laughed and said, “I’ll bet.” He glowered at me with his cold steely eyes. Evidently the control system was having a hard time keeping track of the virus spreading throughout the matrix reality. I wasn’t sure which side I was on anymore, the android peace-keepers, who were trying to uphold the reality metrix, or the discordian plasmate who was trying to uproot it. But perhaps they were just symptoms of a greater problem; that I was in fact dead, or would soon be.

How fitting that all this should occur on Hallowe’en night, I thought, when the dead were abroad upon the land, and the entire country had dressed up as ghosts, and ghouls, and spectres? It was like some kind of cosmic joke. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying listed a number of signs that heralded the death of a human being, these included ‘special investigations’ and shadows on the sky, during a new moon. Special investigations, I thought. Had I not just undergone such an investigation at the hands of those two highway men, Captain Feeney and his son Angus? And what about that advertisement for Sky News that I saw last night on the TV that showed members of the Shade Alliance using Dimensional Jump Gates to get home from work?

The Buddhist monks were very clever, I thought; almost too clever. Somehow, they had managed to write and publish a book that existed in two dimensional planes at once; this one and the world that minutely resembles it, called the Hereafter. What kind of technology could do this, I wondered? I concluded it probably had something to do with the way the particles in the paper were spinning. They must have figured out a way to get them spinning in two different directions at the same time. But how? I had always thought that, according to the laws of physics, such a superimposition of spin was impossible. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying appears to have some very important information for departed spirits, and in this way can be said to be very similar to the Handbook for the Recently Deceased that appears in the movie Beetlejuice.

Like anyone who has just died, you quickly come realise what is most important. And that is damage control. Right fine, you have lost your wife, your dog and everything you hold dear. But right now, you have to think about number One, and that means getting yourself as near enough to Heaven, as possible. Thinking about it logically for a moment, it seems to me that the afterlife is probably closer to the Buddhist description, than to any of the other major World Religions. This is because life is like one long inter-dimensional DMT trip, and it would be wise to think that the effects of this last in the region of Infinity hours. Therefor, to escape the trip, and enter the void, we have to exit through the gift shop. Knowing this to be true, I feverishly began reading the scriptures in the hopes that I could dissipate the accumulating damage, as quickly as possible.





When you exit the through the gift shop, make sure you take nothing with you, when you enter the void.
When you...

To be continued…

SERPENT TEETH FORMULA

The How-to of Alchemy;

On the evening of October 27th 2010, I went to the pub and bought two drinks. The place was empty except for a group of people beside the door, one of whom may have been a friend of my sister at one stage. I had taken two books along with me; English and American Surrealist Poetry, Edited by Edward B. Germain, and Ovid / The Serpent's Teeth.

On the subject of how to interpret surrealist poetry, Germain insists "that it is absolutely necessary to take the poem literally. Critics who dismiss surrealism as senseless––meaning nothing–or as fantasy–meaning nothing real – fail at this initial step. If the poet writes 'A horse galloping on a tomato', that is exactly what he means, not that the horse trod on a tomato while passing by."*

*This method is also of key importance to Wayfinding in Psychogeographic Intelligences (or Psychint).

In The Serpent's Teeth, Cadmus attendants are attacked, and devoured, by an enormous serpent while collecting water at a spring. Cadmus goes in search of them and, confronting the beast, manages to pin it against an oak tree with his spear. Then Pallus, the hero's patroness, tells him 'to plough up the earth, and to sow the serpent's teeth, as seeds from which people would spring.' When he does this, a whole host of warriors grow up out of the ground and commence battle. The survivors of this battle are Cadmus' attendants resurrected from the grave. Anyone who is at all familiar with the mysteries of alchemy will certainly note them here. 

The bubbling springs, the black serpent, and the oak tree are all archetypes of the Great Work. The third of Arthur C. Clarke's Three Laws states; Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. As we know, Alchemy is a total science of energy transformation. With alchemy it is possible to;

• to slow or halt the aging process
• change one elemental material into another
• change any element into pure energy
• transform energy into any material object you desire,
• and to shift these objects into different dimensional plains, past or future.

 For thousands of years, adepts and initiates have struggled to unravel the secret of the Great Work, to achieve these stated ends. Few have succeeded, and those that did were destined to live out the remainder of their days in secrecy; no doubt exiled on the White Mountain. But, I am about to reveal to you the alchemical mystery, because all but a handful of you will be able to recognise it.

Seeing as how alchemy is obviously the most technologically advanced science there could possibly be, its application is rightly 'indistinguishable from magic.' Anyone who has ever seen 'Harry Potter' will know that magical spells are cast by incantation, which– contrary to public opinion– does not have to be proclaimed aloud, but can be recited silently to oneself, much like a prayer. An example of an alchemical formula can be found wherever alchemical archetypes occur in their proper proportions, and in their proper context. The Serpent's Teeth by Ovid is a good example of such an occurrence. As with all magical incarnations, timing is all important. Conjunctions between planets and stars, as well as cross-quarter days, can have either positive or negative effects on your alchemical formulation.

And now a warning. There is a well-known saying in alchemical circles, which goes; Beware the serpent. The serpent is a wily, cunning character, with many tricks up its sleeve. The ancient alchemical symbol of the ouroborus (the snakes that eats its own tale) is a good indicator of this. The ouroboros has different meanings to different societies, but its true meaning––in these circumstances––is that of the law of the winds of Karma. If you dare cast an alchemical spell, you had first better atone for all your sins, or at least fear God, because every pain you ever dealt another will be repaid upon you in full. One important clue to this comes from the line spoken to Cadmus, after he has defeated the black serpent;

Son of Agenor, why stare at the snake you have slain? You too, will become a serpent, for men to gaze upon.

The Serpent's Teeth Formula is particularly insidious, in this regard, because it also represents a closed loop. The men are devoured by the snake, which is murdered by Cadmus, who sows the serpent's teeth and in turn regenerates the men who were devoured by the snake, which is murdered by Cadmus... it just goes on and on. For this reason, you should be certain that you can live with the consequences of that which you desire, as anyone wishing to break this spell will need to expound an awful lot of energy in order to do so.

An example of the negative equity incurred is most apparent in the case of immortality. Anyone who is immortal processes energy in a completely different way from an ordinary human being. Being immortal means they no longer have to eat or sleep. So, if you are in anyway accustomed to either of these luxuries, you will find this lifestyle extremely uncomfortable and generally unsatisifying.

Walking home from the pub that night, I passed a empty and parked car with only one headlight glowering in the darkness, like a single eye. My thoughts, although distant, raced with a fury. They were deeply involved in the retelling of a theological debate between Horselover Fat and his friend Kevin, from Philip K Dick's novel Valis. Kevin repeatedly denied the existence of a loving-God on the grounds that a such an entity would have prevented his cat from being run over. I listened to this debate with a certain amount of incredulity, as I had never allowed myself take a back seat to my own internal dialogue so completely before. I was only asked for my opinion at the very end, when I had to confirm that Kevin's argument was fallacious. I now suspect that the discussion I overheard was between God and the parked car–attempting, no doubt, to absolve itself of any unwarranted guilt.

Perhaps, theological conversations of this kind are going on between inanimate objects and God all the time, and the conclusions they come to, in turn, populate our minds as profound thoughts. Given the events that followed I suspect that the car was VALIS, or the plasmate, in disguise, and that it was probably at this precise moment that I was ambushed by the One-True God.

From reading Valis, it is apparent that the goal of the Hermetic Alchemists––to locate the Holy Grail which gives eternal life––is commensurate to the discovery of the plasmate; an alien creature that existed in inter-species symbiosis with Jesus Christ. It is also apparent that the only thing needed in order to achieve this end is the desire of the equivalent, and the incantation of one of the alchemist's formulas; namely that of the Serpent's Teeth Formula (STF).

THE HUNT

I went into the kitchen, to have a cigarette, and realised I had been attacked and eaten by the plasmate. In Valis, Phillip K. Dick writes;

Lurking, the true God literally ambushes reality and us as well. God, in very truth, literally attacks and ambushes us in his role as antidote. As Fat can testify to, it is a scary experience to be bushwhacked by the Living God.

Fat came to the conclusion that it had invaded our universe; and a year later he realized that it was consuming – that is devouring – our universe.

The plasmate had devoured me, and had become my world. I looked for a light for my cigarette, and the plasmate became a box of matches in my pocket. I hestitated lighting one of these living matches on fire, until I realised that the plasmate was the fire also. All around me objects moved and flickered out of the corner of my eye. If I took off my coat and left it down, it became the plasmate. Anything that touched the floor returned to this primordial state. At the same time, like Oisin in Tir na nOg, it promised immortality.

Monarch of the Glen

 The Spirit of the Forest and the Mountains.

Normally it remained camouflaged. Normally when it appeared no one could distinguish it from ground – set to ground, as Fat correctly expressed it. He had a name for it.

Zebra. Because it blended. The name for this is mimesis. Another name is mimicry. Certain insects do this; they mimic other things: sometimes other insects – poisonous ones – or twigs and the like. Certain biologists and naturalists have speculated that higher forms of mimicry might exist, since lower forms – which is to say, forms which fool those intended to be fooled but not us – have been found all over the world.

In more recent times, biologists have even theorized that there might exist a human form of the cordiceps fungus. When spores of this fungus invade the mind of an insect, or orthopod, they take control of its nervous system, forcing it to climb higher and higher, thus allowing for a maximum dispersal of spores. Recent research has suggested a link between schizophrenia and a parasitie carried in the gut of the ordinary house cat. This suggests that the effects of the human cordiceps analogue deals with reality adjustments or awakening.

Knowing this, I had to consider the possibility that the plasmate was a malignant parasite. It might, for instance, force me to throw myself in front of a train or out of a window, I thought. Then when an interested or concerned party drew near, the plasmate would dislodge itself and infect the nearest amongst them to begin the cycle all over again.

Stories of men going on the rampage and killing their entire family might also be attributed to this parasitic organism, I thought. Was I going to become just another one of those unsettling news stories that people listen to over breakfast? I had to find out in advance one way or the other.

Despite the plasmate being able to alter its form to mimic reality perfectly, the plasmate carrier is capable of discerning the particular flavour of energy that the plasmate exudes. It appears denser, stickier, more gravitic. It was for these reasons that I was able to discern that the plasmate had duplicated my own body. I was reminded, then, of the poem Come Away Oh Human Child, by WB Yeats that my father used to read to us one the lakes of Loch Ri. How could I know if the plasmate had substituted itself for my reality, or if it was just intimating the substitution, in the hopes that I would be provoked into lashing out, and by so doing hurt someone else?

The plasmate uses the brain as a female host, which means that its propensity to attack and ambush you is equivalent to a kind of interspecies rape.

The only words I know are good, ball, and rape.

(Handbanana; ATHF)

I knew that if the plasmate had substituted itself for my reality, then it also ruled over the law of chance and chaos, that governed my reality. Therefore, if I roled a dice, it could – in all likelyhood – bend the outcome in its favour; whatever that may be. Prior to this I had been making many decisions in life based on Luke Rhineheart’s dice therapy, whereby you wrote down a list of possible actions, letting the dice choose which one you would carry out. This was the first time I had ever included suicide on any list, albeit at a very low probabilty; a 1 in 36 shot. I did this knowing that if the plasmate expected me to kill myself it need only manipulate the dice to the desired outcome, and I would do the rest. Mercifully, the dice landed on some other outcome, which meant I was to forget the whole thing and live my life normally, as if nothing untoward were happening.

In the movie Spirited Away, a spoilt girl named Chihiro is transported, with her parents, to an enchanted world beyond the veil. At one point, Chihiro attempts to save her friend from a flock of paper birds called shikigami. Shikigami is a kind Japanese house spirit, or faerie, belonging to the genus Oni. These creatures are further related to the 12 Heavenly Generals of Eastern Mysticism. The plasmate, in its natural state has the appearance of a white bird, or shikigami. It is alive and yet it assumes the form of inanimate objects, blown by the wind.

With the help of the plasmate I was now able to comprehend what was written in the ancient sacred texts and accept them for truth. This ability is given by virtue of the plasmate affixing to the optic nerve; a process known as cross-bonding. On reflection it is not your vision which is augmented, but rather your comprehension and acceptance of the texts. One book which did not seem to be much effected was The Wild Hunt of Hagworthy, by Penelope Lively; a children’s story that I had interest in during the Autumn period. The underlying theme of this book was that unseen forces are at work in the world, and in order to combat them you must have awareness of folkloric traditions. One such tradition states that iron will disperse a fairie attack, and even break a faerie spell. Another stipulates cautious avoidance of the Meadowsweet plant, which is considered bewitched.

Having an interest in herbalism, I had collected a number of these plants during the months of June and July. I looked around my room now, and saw that it was covered in the dried stalks and flowers of Meadowsweet! Cursing myself for my foolishness, I gathered the plants up carefully and deposited them in the park across the road. Next I searched for anything made of iron, with which to dispell the faerie forces of the plasmate. All around me I saw signs of the displeased Host. I imagined they were disappointed that I had not decided to join their faerie ranks.

Where the bee sucks, I suck. In the cowslip bell I lie.

Perhaps a better metaphor for the plasmate, is that of a wasp or bee. In a woods behind my house is an abandoned beehive used by beekeepers to extract honey. As a child I remember regarding the floral patterns inlaid on the crown board with fearful reluctance. Being young, I was fearful of anything that might hurt me, so I often associated this pattern with the painful sting of the bee. Having only just recently visited these delapidated hives, I wondered if the plasmate had not lain in wait for me there, to bide its time to strike.

While talking to a friend of mine about dreams, he mentioned the possibility of navigating honey combed universes. Afterward, I considered the possibilty that these worlds had been constructed by an organism of some kind; and that that organism might be the plasmate. Being attacked by the plasmate is analogous to being stung by a bee. It drives people crazy, and may be the origin of the phrase; A bee in your bonnet. Given that the plasmate corresponds symbolically to both birds and bees, it may also be the origin of the phrase; the birds and the bees, which would of course mean that it has something to do with human procreation; perhaps aphrodisiacal?

Despite all this there are some who say that there are not enough bees/plasmates to go round. Very likely this is a reaction of the loss of the plasmate in 70 AD, with the destruction of the Temple. The plasmate is the Holy Spirit of the Trinity, and if it is not nurtured and loved the results, as seen in the last century, can be nothing short of catastrophic. The absence of the Holy Spirit in man gives rise to all kinds of irrational behaviours.

According to Eastern Religions, the attainment of enlightenment corresponds to the opening of the Lotus or Crown chakra. The plasmate finds this bloom distinctly irresistable and, therefore, flocks to pollenate it. When we consider that flowers have evolved their form to be especially attractive to insects, which are of an entirely different animal kingdom, it not so unreasonable that our own consciousness should develop the ability to attract an organism that evolved along similarly independantly lines; perhaps, even on some far-flung, distant world. The knowledge of the plasmate is like honey, or soma, to the awakened.


The net of the mind is encased in the net of the world, as such they are entangled and inseperable; except at the point of death. The manifold structure of my mind unfolds to form the world and reenfolds to form your mind, and vice versa. Everything is connected, via the net of mind. We are all one via the net of the world, and of the mind. For this reason it is easy to see how the plasmate can direct your thoughts until you are not only at peace with yourself, but at peace with all mankind in one homogenous mind. The hive mind of the Salvia plasmate, and the Godhead are one and the same. If you are nervous or out of sorts in the Godhead, people shift and bumble about. If you seek the gaze of any man he will return it with as much openess and warm-hearted feeling as you would to yourself, as a child.


４次元リサージュ図形の回転 x=sin(11t)cos(17t) y=sin(11t)sin(17t) z=cos(11t) u=sin(11t) 0≦t≦2PI