Symphony: A Transtemporal, Multispatial, Meta-quizzical Interview of an Averaged Entity is a somewhat humorous account of an average humanoid's encounter with infinity. The work is structured by numerous esoteric systems, including the Kabalah, the Tarot deck, the I-Ching, and the humanoid genetic code. All typos are deliberate mutations of the work's operating matrix. Almost every sentence contains at least one joke.
Excerpts
(longer excerpts are available at the bottom of the page)
Spinning us through interstellar compass will in his life-thread dreams, it becomes that which will swell so large the excruciating hot water bottle balloon of your own endlessly stretching dark matter bore of tumbled out genesis. Every word of it floods in so many bodies of languages rampaging her multi-experiencing coppery tasting molten maniacal alphabets through your burning musculatures, hammer to anvil loud soundless smash in house, different ages simultaneously tacked through one life and all, each chronological jiggling moment a total time card full of endlessness, where the pure baby state, the fairies of dreams screaming and laughing at the paradox of ego in this lifetime, the meta-Sanskrit of every brain, numbers having complexity greater than anything can prove, thumping chakra mapped covalent strand diamonds deep space replication of time-motion, ruby and sapphire pulse falcon thunders, nature a medical cell dream the record of how one has happened to macrocosm in marcasite bird flocks of ripples, lumen ether that the magus will see all of within sun's irradiation octaval space ship tachyon leap soliton blue pulse mescaline laser earth, wheels in ceiling with many kind switches of light behind them, terrestrial dream of divine energy--one has always known all of this in its exponentially big-banging trans-star form as the twelve clapping banners stringing the names of the mighty name, archangelic alphabets trickling up and down the life tube, the horizons that will not be decided in terms of their photo energy lights swimming this surface--there are psilocybin batteries, there are fish, there are hawks, there are eyes and beams and open mouths of universe with light that surges beyond one's teeth, the synaesthetic letters arranging themselves as events happen, sentences assigned time/not-time, one per soul, the thirty-two exegetical methods a massive negative curvature hyperbolic conceptual pun the simultaneity of the meta-city of thought, the local linking to the astral linking to the local linking to the genome linking to the general linking to the local linking to the general linking to the astral linking to the genome, inside of the chain stitch telepathic mind text through each of its connected points in first instance outside of in a second, the one letter on the live finger wavering papyrus or perhaps the pre-Aleph's squiggle through every layer of our cellular gasp gaps.
Every feeling is endless superb and scintillate energetic universe wiring jet. This is the path of magic. It exists on every planet. The why of it is the whey. It rumbles through you loudly. They are the earliest memories the conscious mind has. You then emerged in dyadic whispers that were the next stages. You will go now.
What follows you will remember. As has been predicted in the orange epics of bloodstream and of politics, you so-called rulers imposing the backwards time spasm are setting yourselves up for your own elimination. This transmission tracks you along this spasm and routes what need be into alternative directions. At a certain point, the flow spills outside of time into the domains of the mystery schools.
The Mobius coil, having conductive strips on each side of a dielectric and single loop in the twist, outside knows what eventually the aggregate must stop, rot, except for then uh when this was flattened. The natural log is of deep import: we call a group of Gnostic Christians is capable of conducing a current I we, uh, I know I have such an intense association of that stuff, with dubs of shock imaging, if you allow the stapes themselves. Little eggs spill along our sitelines: any night is any night. And the field lines are mostly straight across the gap, although agitated hare fill the vase with lepton/magnetic intensity is that you get an imaging component. We know our past tensors. Pulling the degrees of an increasing, invertible.
This is a rangy lion, a wrangy child, the reeking phoenix, Vishnu Hari Krishna, fuck me Adonis, Apollo, obscurely bright Iaachus, loud Asar, shouting, shouting Ra, all together now massively and unbearably folding into a single sunbeam nine dimensions of being that rotate in a corkscrew of light through the thickness of what stoppers the thick harmonic sine of life: they are the sweet light here become all that is, are become themselves the helical ichor that is the rapturous heating of the body tree into the rest of time that the world will always be. They are the accelerating welling faces and the Exponentially compounding touches and Smells and hymns of the Universe become all one Symphonic solar plasma of perpetual energetic flood leap rush Consciousness leap flood rush.
Quiescent tangled loop lurches, and the ejection surges; and my inner layers will collapse, center of creation. This ring that is the nullification of the stomachs, the single motion that is somewhere over over over. The oars of arms and those my vicious remains are nothing in this wash of numinosity, and nothing that moves and they are nothing, there is nothing still, and the diagrams for every turn of the human mind lie in the dusts of this as a moment of its star, the speeches which will be made in the time of the awakening, these will fall a sheet of what is interpreted as silver along the flank of the first body. This act will be packed. Pack it, and one hundred times thicker than water. Yup, this could be of a cell too. Where me, we do not know anything about how it happened, how the holiness is one and all of prayer humming through what is now called the cortex in grace. The shelves on which those sides of speciation are stored are we know the back and forth of astounding infinitely sensed hymn. You are forever of the substrate of. Sleep dilates, was hallucinated, as we waking. The pages of those letters provide paths for the first of those are sixteen hundred percent aperture jets of fair unbendable, non-polar, metal-like light. Series of angels in the certainty of no sorrow sword the forge into the nails that find the wood that is rash. They which will be the sunder, and yet and engaged too will be the sirens of the languages' return to the tits. Wow, the stuff that flecks of that word which is the announcement of the manifestation
Breathe. Need a pop. Crunch deck.
This stage is gotten through, hopefully, possibly. In this lineage articulating here, at least, this initiation reaches astral crescendo, and the entity has an extended foundational POP! This POP! comes as the result of stirring the pot, shaking the bottle of the reflexive soul until the bubbles of astral agitation so swarmy that the aspirant, almost by mechanism, glues stomach pause. There are no windows are truly looking toward the place of this that are smudegable, there are no doors with hinges, there are no handles to grab, it will find the moment between those stairs where they can and will disappear into the motive that will always be
Contents
Contact email: schroeger64@yahoo.com
"YHVH Tetragrammaton psychedelic memoir account of psychotic breakdown not the Israeli physicist but equally concerned with YHVH and the structure of the universe psychotic memoir esoteric initiation if you liked Gerald L Schroeder you might try Gerald E Schroeder human genetic code God alchemical autobiography kabalistic memoir living book infinity in the psalm of your hand esoteric universe God magic magick kabalistic history magical language gods memoir parody bipolar episode Valis experience visionary report magical poetry book inspired by Finnegans Wake Kabalah I-Ching tarot deck"
Thanks to Kedrick James and Walter Sinclair