The Three Fuckheads have been hard at work in this timeline. As foreseen! Werewolves included!
According to the Laws of Manu, a furniture thief will be reborn as a wasp.

Re the Wasp Prince, is a throne aught but furniture?
I wish joyous and fortunate outcomes to all upon this solstice celebration.
I read Runaway Horses last month.

This article about ISIS notes nothing not already presented there.

I'm too old for Isao's loser fanatic shit, but I do wish I knew for sure how to defuse a youth like him. Other than time's own disenchantments. Suicidal fanaticism knows its fight is, above all, against Time.

At least now I understand why someone wrote "Ghastly & unfilial" beside the character's name in a Mishima biography I leafed through at the used book shop.
Today I shaved my face for the first time in two years. Going from the "Taliban captive" style to an interpretation of a Guy Fawkes trollfacial hair, at least for the next couple of days, before likely going back to complete neatness.

Last week I had a limerent dream for the first time since 2011. Even within the narrative of that secondary creation it felt archaic, nearly atavistic, a pagan antiquity (its vital meaning long reneged upon) to smuggle drugs within. Even the thick sweetness of longing had become somehow humorous and inappropriate, like children's chocolate milk.

My fingers trace ghost strands of wisdom. There is a place of leaves from red through orange to yellow, like the towers of Borges's Emperor; where I'll never be -- not once? not again? It will never be given to me to know which. But Loss is a faithful ship; it will bear me on regardless.
Qegsudulo Ubotarin grew unable to leave himself as his youth departed
possessed by fear, left behind by the moral arc of the universe
he drew a plotting graph of every explosion caused by the Harrier of Impossibility
(the Lyre of Holocaust, He Who Makes the Sun Weep)
in the execution of his labours: twelve for love, twelve for loss;
and the graph tracked that spring, --
("Her eyelids on her eyes like flower on flower,")
-- across the harvest.
He could feel the man under his fingertips, the man behind the scarf
maybe tracing back to the child so deep deep underneath
(Child of the Black Knight, child of Charon, child of the Black Wizard)
deep and drowned like the monster of fable, the Lad in Nook,
yearning for warmth and thus the fire, the FIRE,
the whole Church, of fire.

Gsu understood. Not for justice. But he would oppose. Gsu was redeemed.


I suspect they'll have run out of momentum and collapsed before the end of the year, but it's a wild guess sprinkled with wishful thinking.

These writing tablets that he had left behind spoke of the feng and shan sacrifices, and they were presented to Suo Zhong.

hey matt

Jun. 24th, 2015 12:39 pm
So I picked up the notes for Lichen & Harrier again (continent of Proteus and St. Egbert City) and it struck me that it's a scary good alternate setting for an Exalted game. ADONs recruited into the Order of the Dragon are evidently the dragon-blooded, and other correlations are almost self-evident for ADONs who unfold via Mithraic Mysteries (solar exalts), Smoking Mirror Mysteries (lunars), Ruist Mysteries/School of the Hidden Heaven (sidereal), and Mysteries of Full-Poison (abyssal). I'm not sure whether the Order of the Scorpion equates too well to the Alchemicals, and where the Order of Wepwawet fits, but the power levels are altogether fitting, assuming modern setting alternate rules from Shards of the Exalted Dream.

Now I have to run this game. Only you can make the world survive the first year of Larry Nobunaga's presidency!
Puttin' teh riot in teh griot
Dun' be jelly of teh jeli

All praise to things that live
Some praise to things that lived.

Happy May Day

Black, broken, clear-winged, it moves into darkness
across the floor of the kitchen
by a tropism the culmination of a billion years.
I am reminded of the Angels;
like a man who does not want lizards and rodents
to dwell where he does dwell,
they were loath to share Creation with man.
Man in likeness and reminder
in his fear, in his rampancy, in his laziness
altogether divine
of the one They owed least love towards.
I sit in the kitchen
stabbed, deservedly, by the Angel of May.

Bringing old age, thou hast come, O unageing Dawn...
Unageing, thou dost make to age all else
Going to DM the D&D game in an hour. All but two characters will be new. Why? Because when you're told in advance the crew of the Sinister Albatross is composed entirely of liches, it should really be a clue that you're not supposed to fight your way through the encounter.
Reading: Crowley's The Solitudes. I hope to end the Aegypt and the Sea of Tranquility books this year. But I intend to go through Ishiguro's latest as soon as I'm done with this. Re Solitudes, feels a bit like trodden ground so far. Little, Big did more with less. But I'm only halfway through.

Politics: Still optimistically hopeless. Anarcho-papism v. amusing, attractive.

Reconstructed in these terms, xenophobic, repressive, financial and neoliberal forces cease even to be the targets of a concerted attack, transformed instead into unhygienic elements to be cleaned away. How could it be otherwise, if ‘we’ – the unemployed, the working poor, the prisoners, the illegal aliens, the single mothers – are the forces of Love? Necessarily our enemies must be the agents of Hatred and Destruction. No longer will leftists be forced into the awkward position of answering whether sinking migrant boats and privatising public healthcare is ‘good for the economy’ or ‘bad for the economy’: finally, they will be able to simply rail against the ‘abomination’, the ‘bestiality’, and ultimately the ‘Satanism’ of their opponents.

Creating: I wanted to have Children of All Birds done by the end of March, but I'm not even halfway through, to a moderate amount of angst. It's essentially a cycle of short stories with each chapter focusing on one member of Ardaster's family.

RPGs: D&D 5e mostly. Have a ton of funny stories and too the epic kind, like the one about the PC who was an unwitting incarnation of Tawuse-Melek who, regretting Creation, plotted with the Order of Wepwawet to bypass the Old Man of the Mountain's defenses in Shambhala and bring Full-Poison into the Terminus between the world and Faerie. Good times.

Watching: Everything's shit, can't recommend Old episodes of QI are fairly relaxing, actually.

Games: Playing a fair bit of HotS. Rather stupid, can't recommend. However, and I could probably make a whole post about this, it's been years since I've been as excited by an upcoming game as I am for That Which Sleeps, which I may have mentioned backing on KS.

You play as a Great Old One style entity bent on bringing madness and woe upon the world (you know it's fantasy when it's not left up entirely to Cheneys and the inherent flaws in all of us). There's an Yog-Sothoth-like counter-swirl in the wave of Creation who just rages against everything being, there's a petropunk global-warming-as-immanentized-hell mass of inimical filth (whose name is kinda inappropriate), there's seductively beautiful, luminous, alien, magnificent evil.

Instead of direct agency you'll use proxies and agents to steer detailed nations and societies into poverty, strife and chaos. There're awesome war lady, an undead hitler guy, and god look at her clothes.

Meanwhile heroes, sages, guildmasters and leaders will be doing their stuff, initially aimlessly but eventually noticing a pattern to the perilous events and perhaps uniting to stop you. (For my Kickstarter easter egg, you'll be able to look for Sev as an elvish sage with the Dreamer trait in the Empire of Twilight scenario.) More likely, they'll be made to murder one another in the name of false gods and abhorrent political practices, for the greatest and most final suffering of all races awakened to sin. Death, death to the world.

So yeah, basically everything I ever wanted(,) in a game. ^,,,,^
So this kid explained to me coffee was liquid ant, which is why it's so good and makes you less tired.

describe 2 people marooned together and their relationship after 5 days, 5 months and 5 years, in 300 words. 

John1 was a lawman. John2 was a man of law. Before they set out to the stars, John1 had said,

Day smiteth day in twain, night sundereth night,
And on mine eyes the dark sits as the light;
  Yea, Lord, thou knowest I know not, having sinned,
If heaven be clean or unclean in thy sight.

A crash, and they were stranded.

After five days, John1 was afraid of the bioluminescent apes. John2 was performing intercourse with them. The remains of the ship biodegraded fast enough to drip-drip-drip like a sink in an empty home; they listened to it together.

After five months, John2 called John1 brother for the first time. John1 had a marionette of syringes and discarded plutonium shells; their mother. They knew each other's every thought, but for the waking ones.

After five years, John was one with the faerie fire of the wetlands, and John was the John. The John's song could rouse the ice-blooded old things in the marsh from their death; the fire would then play its colors upon their feathers, and such was the gladness and success of their mission.

From all our lovers that love us
Thou God didst sunder us;
Thou madest darkness above us,
And thick darkness under us;

In our sorrow we said to the night,
Fall down and cover us;
To the darkness at left and at right,
Be thou shed over us;
We had breaking of spirit to mother
And cursing to bride;
And one was slain, and another
Stood up at our side.

We could not arise by day,
Nor lie down by night;
Thy sword was sharp in our way,
Thy word in our sight;
The delight of our eyelids was made
As the burning of fire;
And our souls became sorely afraid
For our soul's desire.

This is 100% about football.
Those men must have known that a great mind was still labouring
like a great mill in the midst of them. They must have felt that,
for that moment, the inside of the monastery was larger than the outside.
It must have resembled the case of some mighty modern engine,
shaking the ramshackle building in which it is for the moment enclosed.
For truly that machine was made of the wheels of all the worlds;
and revolved like that cosmos of concentric spheres which,
whatever its fate in the face of changing science, must always
be something of a symbol for philosophy; the depth of double and
triple transparencies more mysterious than darkness; the sevenfold,
the terrible crystal. In the world of that mind there was a wheel
of angels, and a wheel of planets, and a wheel of plants or of animals;
but there was also a just and intelligible order of all earthly things,
a sane authority and a self-respecting liberty, and a hundred answers
to a hundred questions in the complexity of ethics or economics.
But there must have been a moment, when men knew that the thunderous
mill of thought had stopped suddenly; and that after the shock
of stillness that wheel would shake the world no more; that there
was nothing now within that hollow house but a great hill of clay;
and the confessor, who had been with him in the inner chamber,
ran forth as if in fear, and whispered that his confession had
been that of a child of five.

Likely unrelated:

12:1:The major schools are the Ritualists, the Universalists, the Flowers, the Bodily Supremacists, the Meditatives, the Elementalists, the Diviners, and the Legalists.
12:1:1:The Ritualists enjoy lifelong study and mastery of the ritual forms of the Universal Hierarchy in order to become perfectly stylized beings completely in harmony with the Emperor's design, and therefore not victimized subjects but agents and artists of fate.
12:1:2:The Universalists believe in improving life for all by studying and exploring the Imperial Mandate, hoping to somehow ever change it, bringing progress and utopia to the stagnant universe, as well as promoting welfare enterprises within the mandate as far as its punishments will allow.
12:1:3:The Flowers believe the Imperial Mandate's ultimate command is that anything goes, and effort is foolish. Therefore they seek to operate on pure spontaneity.
12:1:4:The Bodily Supremacists believe the Emperor favors humanity, the human shape and the base human nature purposefully, as being in his image; and therefore human affairs and human desires should be cultivated chauvinistically and for strength, to revel, as mandated, in the crushing of deviant forms of being.
12:1:5:The Meditatives assert that suppression of desires and voluntary sufferings permit bypassing the Universal Hierarchy and achieving a transcendental understanding akin to the Emperor's.
12:1:6:The Elementalists use a scientific approach to nature and the naturalized Imperial Mandate to explore its workings and use the knowledge as their personal asset, believing the Mandate can be hacked.
12:1:7:The Diviners believe the Emperor is infallible and therefore the best way to prosper is to exploit His fondness for privilege, using devotion, study and poetics to be permitted the secret Mysteries and Methods hidden under reality, and thus become sorcerers.
12:1:8:The Legalists assert that the Universal Hierarchy is just a neutral fact of the natural world and all focus should be on manipulating its laws to obtain and exert power without disunity and the upheavals of dissent.
12:2:Probably because Irony Reigns, all schools produce Sages who seem to benefit from exemptions from the L&J.
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