Wednesday, 1 December 2010

Synchronecromancy & Alchemy

Is your tea oot? Part two.

Toiling forever is a long, long never ending struggle. However that is what we’ve signed up for. When will never arrive? The answer to that is never of course. There is no end to this, our realisation, now that we bring it back into our ken.

We do this synchronous.

In order to make sense of the history we are not supposed to know, the current of events we are to be excluded from now and the future from which we are to be extinguished, a profound level of ignorance must be adopted by the inquirer.

How does one achieve this idealised state and what is it?

Let us take the latter part first.

A very large clue to this approach is to seek the verboten.

If you are one of the less than 20 percent of the population, or so, who are scratching your noddle wondering why the modern world is so backward, primitive and getting more antedeluvian? Why the so called remedies and solutions, there’s a give away, to preceived problems and manufactured crises are so inadequate and obviously false constructs? Why there is no purpose to existence other than following a number in a reducing instruction set? Why there are piles of suddenly dead people everywhere? If that is you then the verboten is for you.

Careful now, because you are an innocent abroad. The local environment is full of charlatans, paid and played. Before you know it you will be invited to consider your quest over by those who offer exposés of public record documentation and proceedings. Freedom of information requests and regurgetated unverifiable garbage. This is the public domain flytrap designed to capture and confuse your attention space. To take you harmlessly out of play.





If you are serious then you need to be seeking out the dead guys, dead guys who were fucked over and forgotten. You know the names Solzhenitsyn
Behan, Pound etc., the list is endless. A very few of those you seek might even still be alive, usually goaled and isolated in the West. Stay away from any muppetry that smells like Rand, that crap is designed to take you out of play. The clue here is to look for the unjailed, lionised, lauded, feted and prize given in the West and stay the fuck away, as a gerneral rule. Anything coming through a major publishing house is commissioned by TPTB to condition us in the Herd Attention Space. They don’t waste their money on talent, they want puppets. Think Wells and Huxley.

Once you’ve got your eye in you can tackle the treasure trove that is the classics, that’s correct the guys in togas and skirts from way back.

You want the oldest references you can access or possess in hard copy. The newer the copy the higher the likelyhood that it has been censored or as they say “modern edition”. The stuff on the ausphart has got to be treated as suspect goods unless corroberated.

Remember most of the crap out here doesn’t pass the Turing test so in all probability it is produced en masse by robots!!!

If you don’t dice out here with the full nine yards on board you will get no where. Out here with the mental cases.

Then you want to form your own unique opinion. You don’t want anyone else’s that is for sure. If you do you’ve failed and been taken out of play. Once on that individual track, once your mind is free and self directed, you will make extraordinary progress.

Finally you must expect to be shunned, to work alone, to be aware of and embrace your isolation. Thrive on this deliberate choice of a free state of conscious exploration.

Inevitably you will know if you are successful in your questing, not because you unearth a nugget or reveal a smidgen of the hidden, but because your activity is causing a disquiet throughout the Herd Attention Space. You are causing the herd to unsettle and deprive the religioKriminalrats of their greedy worship. On that day you will find you have a new friend appearing from out of nowhere, as if by magic. Pooph!!! All unexpected.

However if you are smart enough to have ruffled the gulag Kapo’s feathers, that’s what you want isn’t it, then you’ll know who your suddenly knewest and bestest buddy fronts for? Won’t you?

So that’s the later part of “How does one achieve this idealised state and what is it?” described and inevitably I’ve clumsily started to answer the first part of the question, hey ho let’s go.

How does one achieve this? Well to give an extreme example, Clif High of halfpasthuman, from what I’ve gathered from G.Ure’s descriptions of the process involved in getting the web bot reports together, removes himself completely from external influences and stimulae. Even so far as to not listening to music. This has a tinge of the stylite about it but I know where he’s coming from.

For the rest of us though who have to get to grips with traffic, shopping, schools, councils and the other accutriments of torment, the prime action has to be the complete curtailment of all media. No liar’s box in the room, no liar’s voice in the room, no media mogul liar’s dead tree press in the room. Anything GGT, local radio, Fox, Thompson, Foxman, Murdochian Soapland mind spew. Junk it. All of it is predictive programming.

As I’ve said before X-Factor, Apprentice, Big Brother, blockbuster films all of it is getting us ready for NAOHide. Pleading and begging before the select few. Placing ourselves at the mercy of the Star Chamber. Getting ready for communitarian living in a pen.

No thanks.

Then there is the Affliction. The Reduced Instruction Set Curse of the corrupted temple front men. Most clearly demonstrated by those who cannot do anything but quote from some so called holy tissue of lies. Quote after endless quote from cleverly memorised texts and scribblings. Well there is no more obvious example of the afflicted at work than when they go all OCD RISC and quote, repeat, quote, repeat, quote, repeat… ad nauseam. No one at home. Ignore them all. Con artists and sincerely toxic to the body of humanity.

You need to construct your own media, even if just for you the sole viewer and user. Eventually you’ll get an audience. These lads have the idea.


Even TPTB don’t have enough secret policemen to cover all the trees in all the parks under which people will be yapping. Mind you the roboswarms will need a good repellant. Take up smoking!!! A big phekking stokey should do it. One each.

To elaborate on MT who says that only the lies need a massive life support apparatus surrounding them, the truth stands and will always stand alone, free and in no need of parasitical theft from others. Just think on that. If the great whirlygig and magic show that surrounds the thousands of years of utter mendacity that flatters the Affliction were to stop there would be enough for everyone here today and to come in every way.

So with that crap out the way let’s continue with the stream of mindleness from yesterday, well Monday 11th Oct since this intended snipe is turning into an unintended fully fledged barrage.

In the aggregate the behaviour of human beings can be predicted, influenced, shaped and directed. This is not new, Bernays and Freud were not smart enough to get this stuff fresh from between their ears. Oh no this is a Babylon gig, in fact it is a gig from way, way back I’d suspect all the way back to the Watchers. Those who knew what we are and where we came from. What made us tick locally amidst the larger subtle influences impinging upon us from the local universe.

And we slip very easily out of reality and into sacred geometry.

Ever wonder why you cannot escape worship? The repetitive, the structured ritual. Whether overt in a temple setting or mundane like going to work every day. Why there is no end, why there is a continuum no matter what you try to achieve. Always the ritual captures, always the repetitive reframes your attempts to escape. Why is that? Guys like us always railing and forever captured. They, you, me, we are still within the sacred geometry of their choosing that is why. The terms of our reference are forever outwith our powers to change. In order to make ourselves sane again we must completely ignore the crumbs of every clever trail the Hansels set for us and the cosy conspiratorial duvets the the Gretels invite us under and just think and see clearly.

Ignore the come ons to prove how clever we are to ourselves.

As you know I’ve speculated that a long, long while ago a very, very few humans survived the population bottle neck when the caldera in Indonesia blew its lid and choked the planet.

Within that small group, scattered across the globe, there was a coherent remnant of the newly destroyed high culture which set out with unshakeable belief to put what they had just seen obliterated back together again.

What do they remember that we are only now getting a very small glimpse of?

Union of this perhaps.

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The really scary thing about us is that we might be unlimited.

Scalars, numbers, integers, vectors.

UNreal blue.

Poetry might be one of our moderators.

WFM life may be a count but existence is infinite, enjoy .

We are are going to bloom for we have pity for the RISC.

Beautiful snow, solis, night, day approaches.

Embrace and live.