The Nova Trilogy

P

poetix

we murder to dissect
I had a couple of experiences of sleep paralysis when younger, and one in which the sense of psychic invasion was extremely powerful: lying in bed, unable to move, with an alien presence muscling in on my own mind, my own thought processes. I knew with desperate certainty that it had to be repelled, otherwise I would lose myself. In my mind, I screamed at it to GET OUT, and it retreated. My younger sister later reported that she had had a similar experience around a similar time, and we wondered whether it had actually been at exactly the same time, whether we were psychically linked in some way.

People who know me are sometimes surprised to learn that I have a sister at all - she lives abroad, and I apparently don't seem like the sort of person who would have a sibling at all, more of an only-child vibe - but she is a kind of secret-sharer for me, we don't necessarily talk all that often, but we both have a part of ourselves that exists on a wavelength that seems unique to the two of us.

Anyway, I didn't think that the invader was my sister herself, but something trying to get in on that frequency, trying to get at the part of me that is linked to her - a vulnerable spot. It was a hacking attempt, which triggered every alarm in my system.
 
luka

luka

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luka said:
One of the things it's necessary to do is to rid yourself of the habit of little treats and rewards. It's very important to be able to go without patting yourself on the head every five minutes. No cigerette. No Mr Kipling fondant fancy. No afternoon pint. No letting up of discipline. Nothing. You don't need a reward and you don't deserve one. You're not a puppy dog that is being trained. You don't need a dog biscuit after doing a trick.
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"It would be attachment to any kind of 'pleasure', as a neurotic attachment. As Burroughs might say, an attachment to the green goo factory, an attachment to body. The body itself may be the by-product of a large scale conspiracy by certain forces in a prison universe made out of parent matter, subjected to appearances and apparent physical conditions defining their limitations."

Ginsberg from the Gay Sunshine interview
 
luka

luka

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version said:
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
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And also, maktub, it was written. Therefore, a pre-recorded universe. The Bible lays out the whole thing. From Genesis to Apocolypse. Pre-recorded. Predetermined.
 
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luka

luka

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"In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas" but it's also a field guide to the inhabitants of psychic space.
 
luka

luka

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Let's say another entity gets in your line. That entity has needs which you do not have. It has desires, preferences, aversions, it makes itself known by the things it makes you do.
 
luka

luka

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"A deed often brings with it a numbness and lack of freedom: so that the doer is as if spellbound at its recollection and feels as if he were an accessory of it."

That's Nietzsche but this familiar sensation is what is behind Burroughs mythology
 
luka

luka

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version said:
A filthy passage.
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"‘Celia, Celia, Celia, Shits!’ So goes Jonathan Swift in one of the most infamous lines in all of English poetry – the last word often blotted out with a demure dash to preserve the reader’s sensibilities. Happily, however, there exists another type of reader who remains just as interested in ‘shiterature’ as Swift and his literary predecessors were. Peter Smith is this reader, and his book, Between Two Stools: Scatology and its Representations in English Literature, Chaucer to Swift, is dedicated to removing these types of elisions.

Smith’s overall argument is simple: English literature from the 18th century or earlier cannot be properly and fully interpreted without understanding that scatological references at that time were even more prevalent than they are today, and that contemporary reactions to the scatological were less “Puritanical” than ours. In his view the 20th and 21st centuries are neo-Victorian in their prudishness, which he proves by convincingly reinterpreting many scatological references modern scholars have missed in canonical literature. His discoveries are all the more surprising in academic fields as long-standing and crowded as Shakespeare’s."
 
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luka

luka

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Scatology, the Last Taboo: Introduction to Fecal Matters in Early Modern Literature and Art. Jeff Persels. University of South Carolina
 
luka

luka

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"What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehova. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and said: It is meet to be here. Let us construct a watercloset." Ulysses.
 
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luka

luka

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"A Russian scientist has said: “We will travel not only in space but in time as well” — I have just returned from a thousand-year time trip and I am here to tell you what I saw — And to tell you how such time trips are made — It is a precise operation — It is difficult — It is dangerous — It is the new frontier and only the adventurous need apply — But it belongs to anyone who has the courage and know-how to enter — It belongs to you —

I started my trip in the morgue with old newspapers, folding in today with yesterday and typing out composites — When you skip through a newspaper as most of us do you see a great deal more than you know — In fact you see it all on a subliminal level — Now when I fold today’s paper in with yesterday’s paper and arrange the pictures to form a time section montage, I am literally moving back to the time when I read yesterday’s paper, that is traveling in time back to yesterday — I did this eight hours a day for three months — I went back as far as the papers went — I dug out old magazines and forgotten novels and letters — I made fold-ins and composites and I did the same with photos —"

The Mayan Caper.
 
luka

luka

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"Mr Bradly-Mr Martin, in my mythology, is a God that failed, a God of Conflict in two parts so created to keep a tired old show on the road, The God of Arbitrary Power and Restraint, Of Prison and Pressure, who needs subordinates, who needs what he calls ‘his human dogs’ while treating them with the contempt a con man feels for his victims — But remember the con man needs the mark — The Mark does not need the con man — Mr Bradley-Mr Martin needs his ‘dogs’ his ‘errand boys’ his ‘human animals’ He needs them because he is literally blind. They do not need him. In my mythological system he is overthrown in a revolution of his ‘dogs’ — “Dogs that were his eyes shut off Mr Bradly-Mr Martin.”
 
luka

luka

Well-known member
luka said:
"cut the enemy beam off your line"

This is somethjng I have very intense experiences of. Of something, someone, some spy, some agent, some malevolent force, some enemy, getting onto my line. Sometimes you can identify them and in so doing expel them. Sometimes it feels you can't shake them off. They've got their claws in too deep. Your'e contaminated. Evil squatting toad presences. Often these are the psychic projections of people you know, occupying your space, prying, looking for secrets to steal. Other times somethjng larger.
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"The focal point for a hostile intrusive force. You could feel him walk right into your psyche and look around to see if anything was there he could make use of."
 
version

version

Well-known member
The bit with The Mayan God of Pain right near the start feels like a scene from Hellraiser when someone summons Pinhead and the cenobites.

"Mr. Martin, and you board members, vulgar stupid Americans, you will regret calling in the Mayan Aztec Gods with your synthetic mushrooms. Remember we keep exact junk measure of the pain inflicted and that pain must be paid in full. Is that clear enough Mr. Intolerable Martin, or shall I make it even clearer? Allow me to introduce myself: The Mayan God Of Pain And Fear from the white hot plains of Venus which does not mean a God of vulgarity, cowardice, ugliness and stupidity. There is a cool spot on the surface of Venus three hundred degrees cooler than the surrounding area. I have held that spot against all contestants for five hundred thousand years. Now you expect to use me as your 'errand boy' and 'strikebreaker' summoned up by an IBM machine and a handful of virus crystals? How long could you hold that spot, you 'board members'? About 30 seconds I think with all your guard dogs. And you thought to channel my energies for 'operation total disposal'? Your 'operations' there or here this or that come and go and are no more. Give my name back. That name must be paid for. You have not paid. My name is not yours to use. Henceforth I think about thirty seconds is written."

 
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