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/rp/ is for the discussion of religion, philosophy and its related literature, specifically books (fiction & non-fiction), short stories, poetry, creative writing, etc. If you want to discuss numbers go to /404/. Philosophical discussion can go on either /rp/ or /404/, but those discussions of philosophy that take place on /rp/ should be based around specific philosophical and religious works to which posters can refer.

/rp/ is a slow board!
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what is anonymous? it is the unnamed, what is a name? a name is related projection of something. an image, a symbol, a representation. some would go as far as to say these representations are not real, but they are still related to the thing that has created them via lemur-connection, then what is the nature of this symbol-projection-image nature? 

to know of anything there is a source, but what does it mean that there is a source? it means that there is a separation between what is kept (the thing) and what is discarded (luminance/radiance). then what is radiance? is radiance itself a part of the thing or is it already not the thing? they are both the thing and not at the same time, they carry within them the nature of the thing but at the same time must necessarily escape it. light is contradiction, to speak is to separate, words are power, in the nature that it is utter meaninglessness. a floating signifier, but a floating signifier with a parameter that would allow itself to manifest in manifold ways. is there a quintessential word that can finally be approached at the end of days? to answer is folly, as word is contradiction and unity manifest in itself, blasphemous, demonic, and begins the descent into a age of paranoia and self-destruction. this is the nature of sin, and has been inside the speech and power of god from the very beginning. to love god is to fight god, but in such a perverse way, that even that itself is wrong. where do we begin, where do we end? yhes
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You can lie and say I don't know you, but we bonded in the well
we've pierced the veil. seen through the dark. our eyes don't need the light.
Through the void we are touching
You see me every night
We know we know me just like we know ourself

Oh the stars they shine so brightly
they make me hate the moon
Poison sun reflected 
hides their beauty from buffoons
I know that you are looking, I know that you can't stop
you sit inside my mind just looking
must be lonely at the top

but I spit fire, I'm the best
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I really like that.
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^^ excited 2 hear that
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danger from beyond the stars
evidenced by our own intelligence
celestial selection from on high
power as demand to continue
that which is strongest will persist
in persistence all greatness lies
the oldest in the sky as mark of virtue
that which returns is the strongest
seven pointed star of pleasure
wisdom from all time
ones brave enough to cast the dice with luck enough to cast again
a god is being birthed 
even as we speak
good luck means salvation
bad luck and were damned
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Hello everyone!!

At the behest of >>105 I've decided to make a unique thread for these posts to talk about a collection of tales centered around forbidden, lost, passed up, incestuous, violent, spiteful, unrequited, unrecognized, criminal or the otherwise tragically inclined love affairs which drive one of my favorite manga; Angel Sanctuary. So many ships passing in the night, bursting on each other, or falling away into oblivion without a word. A beautiful and serene world whose cold surfaces never lose their warm core of hope held in the hearts of its actors throughout their trials, doomed as each may be.

The series features twenty volumes, two official art books: bearing the titles Angels Gate and Lost Angel, as well as a 3 episode OVA. All of which, I believe, is worth a look. There are also some audio dramas which I haven't had the chance, or the skill, to take a listen to.

 For this initial post I'm just going to outline a few I'm hoping to get to, but I'll be sure to spoiler all of that so we don't ruin anybody's fun. Also here is my initial post >>104, which I probably ought to have spoilered* as well ^^;

The complicated and incestuous love of the inorganic angel Rosiel directed at his sister the Organic angel Axiel both of whom hold the highest [pun] rank possible as three winged

Lucifer and his romantic involvements with other angels, fallen or otherwise and a few with humans to boot. what a dog ;)

Kurai, the soon to be dragon master of the Evils clan who occuppy the uppermost level of hell, with her relative Arcane and a bit the protagonist Setsuna

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>>128 (OP) 
Thats the manga with the fashy angels that commit genocide on a lower class of red eyed angels they call rabbits because their sexual reproduction caused physical deformities in some of them right?
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The rule of heaven is unquestionably totalitarian. While that should not be too surprising for a kingdom, it is more than absolutely confirmed as soon as volume 3. act 3. Book of the Material World: Presumed Guilty whose spine pictures Arachne smoking, clad in leather & notably also the first spine w/o Setsuna, though he is in the original image >>>/gtfo/171. Where Zaphikel , Arcthrone of Heaven struck blind by visage of Adam Kadamon, and introduced in vol 2. Book of the Material World Act 2. Crying Game to splash hot tea on Setsuna to prevent his suicide from interfering with his enjoyment of a hot beverage, says in conversation with his surbordinate Raziel about the peace brought by the reign of Metatron & Sevothtarte "That is how things appear when oppressed by a reign based on fear. But once those frustrations of the oppressed build up it becomes like a bottle of shaken soda. it might explode at the slightest jolt. And furthermore, Raziel. Would you trust a leader who never shows his face?" Raziel happens to be the most involved with the rabbits of any angle we get to see. Befriending several in a mission he thought was to bring aid, but after dropping of the supplies, & the location was bombed, he learned it had been a ploy to find their location. 
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>>128 (OP) 
Art book's title is Angel's Cage. You might note it is Rosiel on the cover, crouched and at his youngest, who resides in the cage on its cover. The inorganic Angel with an unenviable fate. Born hideous and alone but made beautiful by God at the promise of Axiel to disown him. He is brought into her likeness, obsessed with beauty and bound to grow younger with time, his age representing the hold his increasing insanity has over him, his cruelty increasing as he slides towards the innocence of a child. Split from his twin he chases her affection which is promisedly denied on bond with God so Rosiel have shape to be without debilitating agony.

His relationship with Katan is supremely illustrative of this. Katan is originally one of the forms of spirit with the least presence, no name or form, whom Rosiel grants title and raises into being a higher ranking Angel. Sponsoring his schooling and coming to his aid when he is reprimanded for instances of mischief Rosiel establishes themselves as a caring and nurturing individual in Katan's youth. Enough so that Katan would defy all rules of heaven to see Rosiels resurrection as a display of their loyalty.

When Lucifer falls, taking several angels including those representative of the seven sins with him, and begins his ordained rebellion against heaven Alexiel escapes Eden where she had been imprisoned in isolation to come to his aid. A battle between Lucifer and Rosiel in his pursuit is inevitable, in an exchange a fatal wound received by Lucifer if filled with blood they spilled from Rosiel they receive the inorganic angel's aptitude for regeneration. Lucifer gives their body in exchange for a more stable form of the realms of hell and what remains becomes blood crystal stone that hosts the seven bladed sword reminiscent of Shichishitō a seven branched ritual sword that resembles korean tree motifs and is mentioned in the second oldest book of Japanese history where in the fifty second year of the tenth day of the ninth month it is presented to the Mythical Japanese Empress Jingu which Alexiel wields. Rosiel's mounting insanity and overwhelming desire for reunion with his sister lead to a genocidal campaign into uppermost region of hell populated by the Evils, the end result of which is battle between Alexial and Rosiel where Alexiel will to stoke him down with the seven blades wavers and she instead seals him inside the earth. winning the battle and losing the war she is captured by by god and imprisoned having her soul cast out be in incarnated in countless lives of suffering as punishment for her defiance of god. Smitten by Alexiel what remains of Lucifer possesses various individuals across time following Alexiel through her cursed lives in an effort to aid her. 

in the year 1999 Katan defies heaven by taking flight to earth to initiate a plan to revive his loved and lost mentor. For this purpose a drug derived from his inorganic flesh is distributed in conjunction with a CD-ROM game Angel Sanctuary. Through each of which Rosiel is able to gain influence of the ingestor's forms and minds in order to direct enough energy to break the seal that he might return to his place as height available authority in heaven. When at the forbidden cost of may human lives this is achieved Rosiel rewards Katan's irredeemable sin on his behalf by dosing him with the same drug which will eventually erode his self, sanity, and will; despite the already unquestionable display of loyalty. 

in the final volumes where the plane of Atziluth is entered. In the tower Etemenanki where is hosted the Akashic record, YHVH physical body recording all events and all knowledge in all realms, beside the tree of life whose roots lie in skull of the spit six winged Adam Kadamon from whose flesh all angels are sinfully crafted, Alexiel pierces Rosiel with her sword taking his life and freeing him from the encroaching insanity he had been cursed with when originally wrapped in grafts from her skin. 


When gifting Katan form Rosiel resembles an individual in their early thirties, but when revived they have a form of similar teen years to Setsuna Mudo and by their final battle in enkaimeki where their efforts to meet with Alexiel are near suicidal openly bombing the territories in which their loyal populations reside they have gained the stature of a pre-pubescent.   

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Having waited so long, I think it is apparent that Chrollo is absent today, so I’ll be running the thread instead. IIRC from last time, he concluded with his wish of towards the creation of a whole new way of being. And so on that note I have a few aspects of Snow Crash that I wanted to discuss. I can direct us back to them if I have to, but this story tree has enough branches that I think it might be best if I run through it once first as it is told before we start trying to pick it apart.

Obviously the most interesting aspect of this is the Asherah virus, but it is quite the oddity. This virus is spread via both biological and linguistic mediums. This makes it a little tricky to keep a handle on. Especially because it emerges in sumerian culture where a significant separation of religion, magic, medicine & aesthetics is impossible without falling victim to some serious distortions in perception*. P.211 So please try to keep in mind that the virus is our focus here as we go through it. I promise I am trying to both minimize time jumps and keep it as bare bones as possible. If im saying it, i think its important, okay?

First the sciencentric tone of the narrative is worth addressing. They acknowledge attempting to bring the more mystical elements down into a more scientific and “possible” way of being understood. Though Juanita calls the most attention to this with her defense of catholicism and the religious in general. Saying something akin to it having a reputation amongst the educated as being for the ignorant because what most experience in church is a surface level practice of pontification, rather than a discussion of the doctrine and beliefs.

And so the story begins…
 Hiro protagonist, the protagonist resides in a hyper capitalized world while being employed as a pizza delivery boy for the mafia. Not all that strange, as this narrative has entered into an almost maximus state of governmental atrophy. Inducing a situation where every franchise operation has to either hire out a private security force or maintain their own, as is the case for all the most powerful NGOs.  Hiro, who might describe himself as the kind of guy whose presence has the weight of a million bucks bagged in nickles is promptly liquidated from his position in the mafia's elite pizza delivery core after dumping his car in a pool cutting through a yard in an attempt to drop off the merchandise in 30 minutes or less. Forcing him back into the life of a freelance hacker, which as one of the main developers of the metaverse (which exists almost exclusively as a replacement for the previously flat internet), he is uniquely overqualified for. 
	It is in the metaverse that we encounter the first, or maybe the last, iteration of the Asherah virus. Here it manifests as a cyber drug that is only capable of frying a hacker’s brain, visually dosing them with symbolic representations of machine code resulting in their organics circuiting. This popper as VR info bomb, as well as its material equivalent, is distributed by the Reverend Wayne’s Pearly Gates Pentacostal Church franchise. Though the origins of the virus date about as far back as you can go. Emerging as a metavirus that either bubbles out of the sea of biological information in a complex system, or arrives from space via comet, raido wave etc. In any case, this metavirus is the stimulant to civilization by generating various behaviors to emerge and be carried out in repetition. These behaviors were coined by the sumerians as me, and are essentially a series of instructions for a human to carry out. Instructions are then distributed around whichever city by the local En, an individual who could be tenuously equated to a local priest King, from their location in the Ziggurat which lay at its center.   

Numerous records exist of scribes extolling the merits of their city over others, justifying it with regards to the superior qualities of their me. As such, the water deity Enki is recounted as the greatest En for his creation of the best me. Enki was the Summerian god of wisdom, perhaps better understood as the lord of how to do things, or one who can create solutions to impossible problems P.256. Described as an expert in incantations, ‘’word rich’’ and master of all the right commands. In many creation myths, to name something is to create it, to cut if or separate same root as science and scythe it  from the background and bring it into being. And so Enki was special because he could create new ‘’me’’.  Today, it's rare that names or speech would be seen as anything magical, but saying a name not only evokes it by callings its conception to mind, it decidedly creates that conception in a way that can be communicatively be referred to. Though they are gesturing at something a little more suggestive read commanding. Name shubs which seems to differ from me only in that they must be created and me can spawn randomly* are fictions which make themselves real, me, which the book compares to programs being enacted by the metaverse. The metaverse in this sense is an enormous name shub constantly realizing itself across the network. Following this, myths from Sumeria are of a different nature than those of the greeks or egyptians. They lack in large what we would consider a narrative structure, and are more similar to a list of instructions as events. This is perhaps less odd in light of the fact that the Sumerian word for mind happens to be the same as their word for ear. To hear something was to think it, and to be given instructions was to enact them. Mythologised instructions for baking bread, laying bricks, sowing and reaping fields. All of which in conglomeration is compared to an operating system for their society.

For these reasons Hiro pegs Enki as one of the first sentient Human being, able to issue commands to be followed. A fella with a real knack for coining a phrase. Having no one to interact with causes Enki immense loneliness which motivates him to create the “name shub of Enki”. A self fulfilling fiction which bricks anything trying to run on Sumerian. This forces everyone to think, adapt, and change. A blossoming of thousands of languages and the beginning of languages diverging over space and time.

Synonymous with the biblical babble, the confusion of tongues. It’s a misconception that god knocked down the tower. Rather he confused their speech so they could not continue its construction. another of the many myths of a fall from paradise of which there are many. This one as the Nameshub of Enki reads 
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>>129 (OP) 
The thing thats  jumping out at me immediately here is the discrepancy in how these orders come about and are overturned, or rather where one is worth up holding vs overturning. You failed to mention the code of hamarabi which is an attempt to a return to order that Enki helps his son Marduk develop to compensate for the lost me after he uses the name shub to eviscerate them. Theres also the second explanation, besides Enki’s loneliness, its mentioned that he uses the name shub to remove the bottle neck which is keeping people from advancing. The Asherah virus is identified with the creation of civilization as well as the state of sumerian stagnation which the name shub of enki frees everyone from. Interestingly, rather than stagnation, Asherah is blamed for the down fall of King Horsea, prompting the centralization and creation of a heavily controlled book based counter virus which resists the information decay of the previous oral tradition. Asherah is also found as an outbreak after Jesus death disrupts the order of the Pharisees and is put down with the establishment of order as the Catholic church.  Similarly Rife uses a variation of the virus, his attempt to overthrow 3 ring binder culture; identified as being ripe for this because of the similaritety it has with sumerian order i.e. a series of instruction
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I think you're absolutely right about that, but I also think there might be more to it than you're saying, or maybe than you can say. When Juanita gives Hiro the HyperCard to access the Babel (infocalypse) records and librarian to do his research she says " It's definitely related to religion," "But this is so complex, and your background in that area is so deficient, I don't know where to begin." "Ninety-nine percent of everything that goes on in most Christian churches has nothing to do with the actual religion. Intelligent people see this sooner or later, and they conclude that the entire onehanded percent is bullshit,...". Juanita is of course a Catholic and is investing her own time and energy into creating a new branch of the church for this reason. To me this all leads into one of the more interesting quandaries of that religion and it has to do with the meaning of language as it relates to the oneness and eternity of god. The debate over whether god is eternal or sempiternal. Whether this eternity is found inside or outside time. The essays *Temporal Eternity* by Stephen T. Davis and *The God Beyond Time* by Hugh J. McCann brought into conversation are useful in elucidating this distinction. Roughly speaking, in this cosmology the eternity of god is where truth and meaning must be sought, because they are outside the effects of time, change; and thus what makes the communicable possible. & because of
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That actually plays really well with how I think this works out. The slight of hand and rewriting where a scape goat is is placed in blame to justify the erection of of a new stabilizing force, an attempted eternity against change, difference, corruption, which inevitably breaks down. The utilization of Asherah then the criminalization and blame placed upon her function to justify the new ordering. This oneness of YHVH which seeks to submit everything to its power, to assimilate all to itself in the interest of security cyclically exposed again and again. Asherah lies dormant in the brainstem, but the the reiterative process of corruption facilitating difference is present in the Enki Myth where it is only after Enki's sickness, the corruption introduced by Asherah, that the cycle is broken and recreated in a different resonant flavour. We might ask what the value of truth is? Is number necessarily existent?
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I think Both of you have gotten a little too caught up in this number god buisiness. Not that I don't think i's fascinating, but it doesnt have much to do with the virus, culture, the production or self replication of it. Certainly doesnt seem like its scratching at a new way of being.
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it is split
original schism
other arises as the earth leaves the sky
space becomes through a medium of time
the world mountain
the ziggurat, open to the sikes
to they beyond
through wish disaster arrives
influencing as influential

one controls the the other
in chains
in bonds
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Born to a blind paralytic father whose way of staring into space as he pissed openly in front of the family gave him a fascination with both urine and eyes, and whom he claims he loved as a freudian should love his mother; Bataille was an individual who believed passions should rule one's life and ones reason. Writing was never easy for him. He hardly produced anything before he was 29 and even then it was only after his psychoanalytic treatment, which he himself credited for his ability to write. Initially studying to become a catholic priest he eventually transitioned to a series of steady* jobs as a librarian. He expounded on a theory of general economy based on excess, and fostered obsession with death and the erotic. Spending much of his career associating with individuals in the surrealist movement nearly a decade younger than himself. He was the editor and organizer of several journals, one of which, Contrite-Attaque, was meant to mend and ally across differences of groups and individuals he sought out for their disagreements with himself to little success.

Birthed from the failure of the Contre- Attaque journal to form a conjunction between leftist groups, Acephale was founded in 1935. A Nietzschean and Orphic secret society, It turned its back on direct action and adopted a radical initiatory structure, dedicating itself to thorough study of all cosmologies of the past and the subversion of every established order from within. There was an emphasis on Dinosianism 
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What is love?
baby please hurt me

Art, like love, is an eruption. An impassioned explosion of an agonizing inner force ejected outwards in a desperate bid to make itself sensible. A violent incarnation which when effective, cannot fail to impress itself upon those who encounter it and leave them changed. When it bursts forth, or is perceived, it either lays waste to everything in its path or churns it to its own use. The Story of the Eye is a ferocious piece of art, a true tale of love. One which captures contradictory condition we find ourselves in when subjected to it, perhaps better stated as infected by it, but also the trajectory of relationships, and their place in the world in general. In Bataille's own words "...Surrealism... within my books... Coming from a position of transcendent objects that confer an empty superiority on themselves in order to destroy..." From the beginning it has been know that creation begets destruction, and so death and sex are connected at the invisible ends. One of the few pairs that are inseparable, a 3ing of the 2 as a 1. 

Communication appears as an impossibility as it must cross the infinite void which separates individuals. We should not shy away from the fact that death, loss, is the only way of making this connection. Bataille writes extensively about the nature of human sacrifice. In cultures where human sacrifice was practiced it was utilized as a way into mystical experience, and arrival a continuity with other beings. As they observed the torture and death of the victims they recognized themselves in them and were reminded of their shared fate. Entrance into the void at the end of life. Thus death exists as a way of forming continuity between individuals and communication rides on the back on violation. Violence as the positive empty form of loss capable of being carried across the void. Death brings us into continuity,  and violence brings us toward death. Violence forces a death of the self, a change in what I was and the birth of something new. Wanting to be communicated with is a desire for violence and violation. Violence is key that brings us toward death which is why its depictions are linked with sexual arousal. Eroticism, unlike animalistic sexuality, is a fascination, an obsession. Mysticism and eroticism both seek after continuity. Violence in sex, Art, and communication pierce the barriers of self providing a rupture and allowing a connection, continuity. A fusion which is the death of the two previous organisms. Mutual violation is essential to communication and eroticism. Annihilation of what was there for the creation of a new set of beings. What remains of interest then is the application of these aspects in the story as well as ideals, obsession, and fascinations as they apply to the erotic. 

Bataille counted the Sun among one of his many obsessions. A glorious point in the sky so brilliantly incandescent that the price of gazing upon it is a temporary blindness that can be upgraded to a permanent affliction depending on the length of ones indulgence Galileo. In his essay The Rotten Sun Bataille discovers in the Sun a set of symbolic of ideals for what he calls "the most abstract object as it cannot even be looked upon". He represents it's duel aspect in the legend of Icarus with two suns. The first yellow beautiful which warms and invigorates Icarus prompting him to elevations, and the second rotten ugly sun which melts his wings and ignites his flesh transforming him into a screaming clump of carbon falling from the heavens. Desire and risk are present in all ideals. The desire to peruse them which births all action, and the risk that such pursuit will destroy us. At some point Bataille's obsession drove him to prophesize that the pineal gland was on an evolutionary journey to become a solar eye which would emerge from top of the head and be able to look at the sun. An eye that could remain fixated upon his perceived ultimate ideal without losing its vision. A romantic fantasy if I've ever heard one. Though for Bataille the sun is more than just the ultimate abstraction with which to represent our interaction with ideals; it is also blistering point of intense energy expulsion at the immediate center of our solar system from which light arrives allowing us to see. In fact Bataille uses the sun as the core of his theory of general economy. The Sun expels its excess energy which fuels all action on earth, plants weather, everything. All of which individually and similarly acquires an excess that it expends when it no longer has room for growth. Fruit on plants, fight and play in animals, thunder, lightning, and rain from the clouds. Everything for him is oriented around systems acquiring for a non utilitarian expenditure: waste of resources on non production as strength, as sovereignty, as life. That is acquiring only with the potential and intention to risk and increase the ability lose. A tradition best exemplified in the Northwest Native American Tribes tradition of potlatch where wealth and gifts were lavished upon rivals as a sacrifice to dishonor their status and place them in a state of debt they could not repay. 

The themes of death, of these two suns, waste, excess and expenditure factor heavily in our love story.

One of the least forgettable aspects of the novella is the cornucopia of eggs and piss nestled within its pages. The non consumption of the eggs is pegged easily enough as being waste; symbolizing Simone's unutilized fertility (even without its pairing it immediately with piss literal waste). Through the fascinated, and perversely obsessed eyes of the narrator, arrives the message to the minds eye of the reader. Through visualization we are able to scrape pleasure from the surface of these descriptions of obscenities. The excess here being pulled from the waste through the eyes which derive something from it, an element beyond its practical function. An excess acquired from even something that is functionless. The sexual excess of the egg as abstract ideal, occulted goal of animalistic sexual activity, is distributed across the system; from the egg to the piss, just as the sun distributes energy across the solar system.

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just you wait!
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Something you skipped out on here is the whole character of Sir Edmond, whom I think is worth a mention. He is is introduced in the chapter after Marcelles death as the necessary price they have to pay to utility and work to continue their lives together after marriage. They make a journey to find him across a body of water in a boat and then burn it upon departure, evoking the idea that there is no going back to how things were between them. Simone then leaves to seek sir Edmond in the city returning at nightfall with him, numerous luxury goods and transportation. Edmond is English, and thus from the birthplace of modern capitalism, and the origin of the change away from feudal society. This is a significant transition for Bataille who connects the change with the protestant reformation, handing the role of economic shift more to the Calvinists than to the Lutherans (though they do play a role). The important aspects of the change can be seen to consist of both a reorganization of production which spawned an alteration in the primary value of money itself. In the feudal system loans that were given did not generally have interest levied upon them, as usury was forbidden. Unnaturally compelled  production tithe and taxes was done as a way to maintain the priest class and the military. Both of which were done for the satisfaction of god. In a society like this God controls time, so interest accruement over time was forbidden because cost was recogn
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Amphetamines make crazy and not care, and yet thoroughly invested in everything that's happening. Overly invested. Its always time to get shit done, amped and dancing, jamming things together, seeing what fits, but always so mean. Just a hair from anger. Everything is sharp. Razors rest on every surface including my own. Floating inside, outside, and on the surface; stimuli filters through them, spurs to make me go on. They make hate who I am and what I do, or rather what I've done. Intense violent force flows through, pulped liquid gush from which I can't help but collapse upon reflection. Angry and disinterested in anything that interrupts the blades I have become. At high speeds a slight drift toward death without caution. A bloody line scrawled and jittering askew of a goal. Barely eat for days. Barely sleep for weeks. Needing a kill and can barely stay on my feet. A few years of this in cocktail and we ran to a hole of isolation and numbness which we've maybe just now started escaping from.

Opiates are great. Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out. More than content to lay about. Nothing hurts and barely breathing, couldn't care if the whole world were seething. Weeks go by and I don't miss them. Never even heard of time. And then I'm awake again. Maybe better with a mix? you'll feel the blades a little less.

Tried DXM, but that one couldn't catch me. A cat on my chest for a minute was there for some hours. Everything I did I did again while doing something else. Everyt
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Everything that comes across my screens is related to me, relayed for me. That might not sound that different than how its supposed to be, but for me its talking to me. The things that happen they're posted for me even when they're for someone else. Not everything, not all the time, not even necessarily frequently; but when it does happen it happens intensely, unrelentingly. I feel so sick. I know I'm sick. these things cant be true there aren't many people communicating with me to push me toward something, much less some large entity orchestrating  the feeds to give me this realization. orchestrating events in my life to do it. I'm not really important enough for that, I'm not special. I want to be and so I feel paranoia about all of this because I want to be important, I want to be something that matters, I want to have something destined about me. even if its just something horrible to come after me that no one else does. it would be so exciting. and it is. so exciting I that when it happens I want anything else, i no longer want to have been chosen. I want to hide and never come out. I want to run away and escape from it. I no longer have any where to go though. I can't convince myself its not real. Its been like this for years and its constantly getting worse. At first it was just relentless deja vu that seemed innocuous, but when that went away I was left with visions of my demise. endless and varied iterations of it, they never came to pass and so I kept quiet about it
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Going to keep this thread as somethign of a meditation journal for myself. generally I sit for around 45 minutes to an hour every morning right after I wake up. I am working my way up to an hour or more every day.

Since I've started meditating more seriously life has taken on a kind of claustrophobic feeling. I don't seem to actually exist, but I feel very strongly that I do -- sometimes I have little glimpses when I am sitting that the thoughts I involve myself with are actually just the way there can be any kind of feeling of "self". . . I get scared of being bored because I am scared of the sad feeling of there "not being anything". But when I actually allow myself to be bored I'm not sad at all. I feel things open up. But I am very scared to let things open up even though I have experienced that opening. Why is that? Why do I feel so compelled to fill up space with music and youtube videos about speedrunning history? So the daily activities I involve my-'self' in seem pointless, like I know they are pointless, I can see that they are pointless, there is no escape from this 'pointlessness', but when I actually acknowledge that and allow that, the feeling of "pointlessness" evaporates and there's just lots of space. But I'm always so afraid to make that leap. . .

So I suppose, if that's too long and you'd rather not read -- I am afraid of space - I know there can be space - I am afraid of allowing myself to have that space - I do all manner of things to fill that spac
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When I manage to act, I could also benefit from less impulsivity. I'll try to be a bit more regular with my practice
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well I tend to sit every morning for 30 minutes to an hour every day at 2:00 PM UTC so if you sit then know that we're sitting together ^_^

Counting meditation is going well (i.e. it's developing) and I'm able to make it to 2-3 usually before I make thoughts for myself. In some ways it's really relieving to have such a mechanical practice after a long time of sitting and not being sure if I was 'doing it right' and having no teacher/no way to really know check in.
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so i noticed over the past few weeks how tense I get during meditation trying to keep myself focused on counting&breathing to the exclusion of any thoughts and I think given how relentlessly I seem to have thoughts this is the wrong approach.
now when I notice tensions i'll just notice them and let them soften w/o focusing on them. kind of like finding the bodily awareness i have when i'm falling asleep, only sitting up and with more alertness. so i have this feelign of constantly (slowly, inevitably) opening, letting go, unfolding.
I seem to have fewer thoughts and when they occur into my awareness i find it's easier to like. more palpably "let go" of them.
I wonder if that's a better approach?
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Things blew up last month so I didn't keep this journal the way I meant to but I've still practiced every day.

Most of the time during meditation I still find myself counting 1, then immediately going back to 1 as I'll notice I'm having thoughts (i.e. attaching to reference points) again. This really discouraged me but I'm told it's very common, and the point of this part of the practice is to become familiar with one's awareness. So, finding my awareness in thoughts, letting go of thoughts and then finding the presence of my awareness in counting for as long as there happen to be no thoughts IS the practice. I also try and extend the practice of stopping, letting go, letting there be space into the rest of my life, but it's hard to explain in words what that experience is like and I don't want to confuse myself by trying.
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hello there spirit OTT
I have recently been able to commit to a meditation of some piecemeal variety of assembled remnants after gouging out some commitment and jotting it down. 
I've tried doing Zen meditations before, but my commitment to them only ever lasted so long. i definitely saw the benefit of that kind though would certainly like to get back to it. Zen meditation makes sense to me, expanding awareness to as many things as possible, never thinking that you know it all, approaching everything like you're a beginner in order to tap a flow you can ride anywhere. 
I see you mentioning something about avoiding reference points, but how could you navigate anywhere without those? How would you even know where you are or do anything, even remember that you're not supposed to have them?

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Blood child true to its name is 30 pages decorated with the details of a species whose development depends on consuming the flesh of their carrier. An inner species romance of oviposition. Octavia Butler wanted to write a pregnant man story in which “a man became pregnant as an act of love” and thereby managed to write their conventional conception out of existence without managing to liberate anyone. Whether she intends the story to be interpreted as slavery or not, the tale was spun to display an inequality. Here males fill both a dominant and submissive role. Dominant with their wives and submissive with the centipede-like* aliens who utilize their flesh as incubators for the flesh eating maggots they develop from. After an incubation period the flesh eating worms are removed through a gash which facilitates fishing them out of the hosts circulatory system, where they are promptly placed in a fresh cadaver to consume¹. Each birth a cesarean with the promise of torment and death in either a late term or if one of the grubs is missed. Our hero, Gan, is hesitant at first, but with a bit of coaxing and with the threat of being left for his sister whom it’s known would allow it (she has been expecting to carry life within her since the beginning after all) eventually relents, agreeing to let the squirmers take up residence inside him. Excitedly stripping down and opening his blood vessels to the cold ovipositor of his creepy crawly lover’s many nodu
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Duryea-Gode Disease is a genetic disorder characterized by the carrier having uncontrollable impulses toward literally tearing themselves apart in ghastly spectacles of self mutilation; which on rare occasions can even lead to the dismemberment of others. One such case is Lynn’s, the diver of the narrative, father. A man who skinned her mother alive? before digging through his rib cage in a feverish attempt to pry out his own heart.  Viewed as ticking time bombs the ostracization of the carriers is rampant. The main treatment for prevention being a specially formed diet, casually referred to as dog biscuits, which makes the afflicted easy enough to spot that keeping their status under wraps is all but impossible.

Several ‘’treatment’’ facilities exist for the housing of patients with DGD once they begin to drift, or their urges become apparently untethered. Something which normally means a box with a luxurious name placed away from society, lined with padded walls utilizing restraints as mandatory attire to keep patients from disgorging themselves. Lynn has swung her way into medical school on a scholarship from such an institution, though the reputation DGD’s have for being particularly productive and creative didn't hurt her any. A reputation not unrecognizably applied to the non neurotypicals in our own realm. Possessing traits deemed personally destructive and therefore pushed towards the margins, but often have populations lauded as being 
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¹ (Bataille 1985) 68 Black foot indians have a tradition of removing fingers to offer to the morning star
²  Ibid 67
³( Butler 2012) 63
⁴ (Bataille 1985) a quote from hubert and mauss’s [sacrifice: its nature and function p.101]
⁵ Whom he claimed influenced his behavior
⁶ (Bataille 1985) 61-2
⁷ (Bataille 1985) 62-2,71
⁸ (Butler 2012; Bataille 1985)
⁹ (Deleuze 2006) 84 “willing=creating”, 111 “ forces produce a burst of creativity”, 169 “becoming-active only exists through the will to nothingness” 174-5
¹⁰ (Butler 2012) 61 “Most DGDs have the sense to marry each other and produce any children. I hope you two aren't planning on having any-...” - Beatrice
¹¹  A case exists of woman locked in an institution who was commanded by a man of fire to tear off her ears, failing to do so ||for a lack of a sharp instrument||, she compromised by plucking her eyes from her skull. (Bataille 1985) 66-67

Bataille, Georges. 1985. Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939. U of Minnesota Press.
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The goal has always been hells.
I never believed in heaven.

Octavia butlers last essay in Blood Child, The Book of Martha is about her utopia. Martha speaks to God, is invited into their realm God to name one change she would like to see, one change that will benefit humanity. The utopia she drafts is vivid dreams,  every night, inescapable, more vivid and satisfying than reality could ever be, so people can experience their fantasies to the point that Some will give up on their lives and decide to die because nothing they do matters as much as their dreams. Some will enjoy it and try to go on with their familiar lives, but even they will find the dreams interfere with their relations to other people. & she lands here because she doesn't believe in heaven either. It makes me want to wretch. I am so sick of these dreaming drugs she has no idea what she is asking for. Her utopia exists this way because her Martha was too tepid to commit to a larger change than more vivid fantasy. No wishing people weren't enslaved to eating, to tilling the soil. No wish they did not tire. No wish for ways they could understand each other better despite a discussion of the Tower of Babel. No wish for them to tolerate pain better, to let is pass over, to be harnessed more effectively, to have it read as something else. No. No wish for advancement or adaptation of any kind. Instead she 
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Oh! >>139 Spinny, Spinac, Spitstacheo, errr... Ol Spinster. I know that guy He was a psycho that spent his life crafting geometric lenses for three eyes. And as reported by his bibliographer breaking into fits of erotic laughter while watching personally arranged spider death matches. I heard he even felt that warfare could be a relative perfection if human essence was insectoid. Spiders expressing their relationship with the world through their web or whatever. For him only a thinker had a potent life, a life that explained them.

After getting excommunicated from the Amsterian Jewish community by choice Ol Spinster spent his in and out of boarding houses asking only that is uncommon aim be tollerated. Poor guy couldnt integrate anywhere. Which maybe had something to do with  his distaste for indian companies and the orange houses where calvin would throw this S&M parties. Asking himself "Whats with all these death cults and bondage?"

Refusing to works several jobs offered him by universities and preferring to remain a private thinker, He drew up a coupe things on ethics, theological treatise and himself in Nepolitan costume. 

P.3-14 Spinoza Practical Philosophy
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>>136 (OP) 

I'd love to say "Thanks Nep", but this doesn't really give me much to go on about this guys philosophy.

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Grains of sifting sand drift through space, flowing past each other, slipping down and piling in the bottom of hour shaped glass. Clicking hands cyclicly trace the edges of geared faces. The Earth’s shifting shadow falls across the sky. Lunar fades to solar and back again. Time, existence, being & becoming. Change. This, the truth of the world which we occupy, yet manages to maintain itself in a state beyond this defining alteration, as all truths must; existing as equally valid regardless of the moment. Truth-Eternal, all knowledge must find its way to this stability.

“Please note that these tinctures are all either poisonous or illegal. I only include them for reference. Use them at your own risk” - S. Connnolly
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>>138 (OP) 
Science, often taken for granted as the method by which dreams are brought into being, seems to defy the inconsistency by which we are surrounded. Standing solid inside the flow, what can be the relation between truth and time? How can we reveal the real? To meet with this properly atheistic possibility it is necessary to recount the philosophically recorded history. 

Four possibilities Exist
Concept is eternity (parmenides/spinoza)

Concept is eternal and relates to 1. Eternity
 1.a. outside time (plato) 1.b. inside time (aristotle)
 2. Time (kant)

Concept is time (hegel)

Concept is temporal (there is no eternal truth)

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