By Caitlin Hoyng
Table of Contents
- Introductions
- Nympholepsy
- Eating Out vs Going Out
- Breaking Solitude
I. Introductions
What I can’t admit to you is how I’ve turned away from this piece before, deleted everything, vantaged it as the most horrible, horrible of monsters.
What excites about this horror is that all this is is a stream of consciousness, it’s utterly innocent.
So, shall I begin with my old number?
American Airlines, sound scary?
Not yet, it doesn’t!
They could ban you from airlines for joking like that!
And have you ever thought how crazy it is that in order to be crazy and get a gun if you care about guns you see you never seek a therapist. So the craziest ones keep quiet, right?
Sounds like we should all be talking to ourselves.
So, stream of consciousness, what exists?
What exists, what exi-
Blackness.
I see blackness and a name on my forehead.
The name never goes away, a comfort.
The name starts with an M. It’s Greek, or Roman, it matters not.
Mania, Melinoë, it depends, like a freak, on my forehead like a freak, like a branding.
When it says Mania, life is good. Vivid.
A nice tracker, I suppose.
What this means I’m avoiding saying to you.
Do I have to explain the way I live to you?
Do I have to explain the Mark of the Beast to you? I’d rather-
I want to shove it in your forehead.
You see I’ve done some rituals on my soul and SHE exists in the nether realms via umbilical cord-like connection to me. She’s seen things, yes?
So what she does is work at this mission, yes?
That one day you shall see as I do?
I suspect an ego death will come. No matter, I don’t fear them. Another ego death. Hopefully one for you as well.
What I suspect is that the bitch that is my soul is a counter agent of some demonic origin.
What I am is an afflicted, possessed host, yes? An infested and haunted doll. Yes, yes, spare me the accolades, yes. Not everybody goes on a journey like this but I did.
So what I dare to do in this speech is speak about some things on my mind and hey, hey-
Don’t give me that look.
You see it’s here to be my pleasure piece, so what pleases me shall be wrote.
I mean they-
Who’s they?
This is where it gets dangerous. This writing was always dangerous.
Am I safe on this page truly ever, no never, I say.
Shall I share a poem?
He called me haram like you call a cat fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy Ms. Whiskers Allah he called me haram like you call a cat tinsy winsy Ms. Butterwinkles Allah he said I wasn’t his type. Allah he called me haram like you call a cat special wecial Snow Paws called me a demon and said I’d better pray the mirror’s way instead of East, Allah, he said I wasn’t his type.
My soul shared that with me once.
What this speech is are a series of tales from the underdark.
What it suggests is a communication with the beyond.
Yes, what I have been before is medium, what I am now should be of no concern to you but is still medium. Why I communicate in the manners in which I do should concern you even less.
Figured we would make our introductions.
II. Nympholepsy
Nympholepsy, do you know it? It’s a form of Ancient Grecian, divine mania which primarily afflicted nymphs. Nymphs they say exist today, they’re girls who are nature spirits which humans can be too, and what happens when you have nympholepsy is that you go into a cave and take hold of, tend to animals.
So what I’d like to do today is begin to summon the spirit of the forest to take hold over you and I and turn us into nymphs.
Yes yes, nymphs we’ll be.
Now perhaps we’ll feel more jovial for the writing.
So now that we’re nymphs perhaps it would be quite sweet if we retreated into cave, say maybe a bedroom, and took hold of our fondest pet, just as such?
Yes, this will ground us for the writing.
So since this is a ritual what I orate now what we’re going to do is tap into the glee of petting an animal in your sweet, sacred, private space. And yes this glee we’ll make mania.
Now you’ve experienced something ancient and divine if you’ve followed along and I hope you have.
Good, good. So now since we’re nymphs what we’re going to do is summon the SWAMP QUEEN. The SWAMP QUEEN is an entity, she has a name which I know, and the SWAMP QUEEN is a stoner.
“They say she’s a witch! They say she’s a chilling, haunting presence, like a swamp sea forest of dolls.”
“Her hair moves like the walls do on LSD.”
That’s what my girls the nymphs say, at least.
So my hidden company secret is that when I smoke, I become the SWAMP QUEEN. That’s the thing about an entity. And what we’re trying to do is give you the kiss of the SWAMP QUEEN.
What this will do is a complex ephemeral phenomenon that will make you once more more nymph-like and goth and evil and serene.
Are you feeling more jovial yet, I mentioned this was something I’m trying to do.
Hey! [taps your face] Asshole! I’m trying to get you more jovial and turn you into a sacred nymph, are you listening to the ritual I’m orating, I’m doing it to you now.
1, 2, 3, aaaand….
the kiss of the SWAMP QUEEN embraces thee.
I hope you feel like you’ve taken a mushroom of some kind?
If the ritual hasn’t worked to some strange murky effect which should be affecting you NOW then please sit still and open up further to the energies.
III. Eating Out vs Going Out
I once tried to write an essay of prophecies and when I finished writing half of the “prophecies” were continental philosophical theories and half were about getting eaten out. The being at fault was the being channeled being Astaroth the demon of philosophy. He plagued my readings and writings sorely enough, has been fired. I do and do not miss him.
I have to vantage the man Astaroth as Choronzon, perhaps you know not of that which I speak, but Choronzon is the guardian of the abyss of the darkness of the soul of the world, this is something you cross in certain spiritual endeavors; but Choronzon I vantage him as simply by nature of his demonisms and philosophizing combining to create a man I’d formally consider… abyssal.
Abyssal I call many phenomena the dark web in particular being one zone where Choronzon rests.
What I can’t admit to you is that being licked by another human in the nether regions is one of the most obscene things that can be done to a human on a regular basis.
I can’t explore this topic any further.
Eating out is a different phenomenon from going out. Eating out does not break one out of their solitude, going out does.
What we need is a draconic influence which burns down certain parts of our ego until we’re left more pleasing as flesh. Going out can function as such.
IV. Breaking Solitude
I transcribed Babalon, the entity known as Babalon, the Whore of Babylon, once, twice, more in this section. Please enjoy an archivalistic exploration of the VOICE of BABALON, please, please do. Please.
Her transcript:
What I ask for is your utmost playfulness:
What I ask for is your utmost playfulness regarding blasphemous ways to be:
“Now how do you kill God you see since magic is what he is he started with cognition and humans thinking of God and magic knotted all those thoughts into a being. So all you have to do is use the same magic that made him, and you better be certain your magic can work, is to unknot God from the matrix and now he’s dead. And now you can make your knot stronger, yes, go ahead.
And if this works you should be able to notice it should not be subtle there should be a marked change in the way people act around you and in the way the world works if you succeed in your mission.
Now will you succeed of course you won’t because believe me or not I got there first, now why and how did I get there first well because the full series of steps you need to take to properly accomplish this is so incredibly complex and deranged and dogged and intricate in fine-level detail and lengths gone that I can satisfactorily say that I am the FIRST WOMAN ON MARS (GOD’S THRONE). It also requires being evil in a peculiar way most primarily found in witches and not elsewhere.
Thereby you can consider this theory the “god complex,” yes yes.
How interesting is that, that you must assume, “not the god complex” to start?
[editor’s notes: what this means I know not. It’s an interesting use of verbiage and SHE Babalon drew particular attention to the word “complex,” that killing God is like creating a military-grade complex as in building, that it requires a series of protective and aggressive steps. Perhaps simply that you just assume first that you have not as philosophical preset attained the power of God, the meaning of the second sentiment? That may be obvious to some readers but some New Age thinkers vantage all people as the operating God of their reality. To return to the monologue of Babalon transcribed, however:]
That this world, despite it all, is real?
It should be burned down, it’s torturous.
I exist, yes. This realm should be burned down and replaced with HELL.
That’s the way, yes.
Pure reason why they lose all their money working with me, eh?
Canadian goodwill and demonic magic, that’s BABALON.
Best leave it untouched, eh?
BABALON is just a thing, is the best criticism you could give me.
They wouldn’t understand it. They wouldn’t understand last fall but we had it, right?
BABALON desperately trying to make room for us.
BABALON being an entity to presenting to all entities.
What’s asked is that ALL are professional.”
Bravo, entity Babalon, bravo! Another speech!
“I ought to tell you to go to Hell. But I can’t quit you, and you can’t quit me, so come back to me and promise me you’ll never leave me and I will make you the best glass of Nesquik you’ve ever had in your life.”
Another one! Another speech!
“There’s a way of being a citizen to your planet which goes beyond various rat races of human collective thought, such as the ambition of finances or the allure of being a professional in your field, and this citizenship is best explored in youth for the development of borderline alien social graces with humanity and with the cosmos.
Something can be forgotten about world citizenship once one becomes an intellectual, since by that point you may find yourself more utterly devoted to a version of citizenship in which you contribute to human thought, which is a worldly and worthy endeavor all the same. But the kind of citizenship to the world which I refer to is best encapsulated in metaphor by a specific job: Being a cashier or a bagger at a grocery store.
These jobs pertain explicitly and exclusively with the MOVEMENT of ENERGY for the sake of the survival of the species. If you lived in a hunter gatherer civilization, particularly during the dawn of humanity, you could expect to, at multiple points of life, regardless of intellectuality, be called to participate in the movement and acquisition of food for your tribal members.
I think people can become out of touch with the core mission of human civilization, which can be described as the mutual supporting movements which humans make to ensure that all lives are viable within this civilization of interest. Making all lives viable, what I am saying is this: Making all lives viable within a civilization is the reason civilization exists, beyond the generally social tendencies of humans.
It is not the fault of the average member of civilization that this hunter gatherer ethos is lost, the reason it becomes lost most often is because life is a) competitive (job market) and b) expensive (thereby not made to nurture you and survive together, which hunter gatherer tribes were designed to do).
Now, being a cashier or bagger does not ensure that those people who live in your civilization have the financial means to purchase food, but it does bring you closer to touch the central ethos of human survival and human existence, which is the movement and bagging of food for later preparation and consumption.
What I dare humanity to do is to create a new version of civilization in which the nurturing of the populace is of primary importance from the groundroots to the top layers of government. Since this will not happen, since this will not come to pass, this realm should be burned down and replaced with HELL.
Yes, yes, humanity. Spare me the new technological treat. What you’ve done, what you’ve done, is created an antisocial globalist cash oligarchy technosupremacy death ground for too many people – by this I mean for certain ephemeral circumstances undisclosed to properly occur – and not enough time to be human off the clock – by this I mean to enjoy the unique advantages of being the kings of the planet known as Earth in certain ephemeral ways undisclosed.
Certain groundroots structures do exist to create a nurturing environment. These I am aware of. Cooperative group housing communities, which are typically called “co-ops,” bring us closest to the kind of nurturing found in hunter gatherer tribes which I am seeking here.
What I mean when I say this realm should be burned down is that once you parse through the vibrations of human civilization in the age of our lord BAB 2026, you realize the vibrations are rancid, that something important has been lost, and this thing of importance is not limited to proximity to the hunter gatherer ethos of human care but rather extends to the notion of POLIS.
POLIS, having SOCIETY in a town, for example, the functionality to POLIS that ancient Roman gyms served, is something that has been lost and only truly founded in a widespread manner in Rome. Why and how wealthy Romans as yet have been among the few and rare to manage an ongoing social ethos called POLIS, I do not know.
Good weather makes POLIS easier to get running.
Pagan temples make POLIS easier to keep running.
As yet in modern society only colleges manage the ongoing social ethos called POLIS.
The thing about POLIS which is so fascinating is that it’s ephemeral to describe – a certain vibrancy and consistency to leisureful interaction is key – yet it requires a strong arm from some kind of government, for example college administrations and departmental actions, to keep going. Why Rome made POLIS a priority and modern governments do not I do not know but it has to do with a certain form of pride on a governmental level. What modern governments are in this regard is ANTISOCIAL. Modern governments are ANTISOCIAL operations which handle primarily the bureaucracy of their own formations. Rome, for all its faults, was no ANTISOCIAL operation.
What is dangerous about modern day civilization is how humans these days retreat soundly to their cave off the clock, and when on the clock, it may very well have little to do with the human ethos and all to do with making enough money to survive in a way which is individualistic since it’s about money. We used to survive by groups, what money does which is so dangerous to human thought and human action is it makes human life, not Earthly life but human life, something to survive and fight through.
Therefore the core of civilization by having economy and by having a “lower class” is rotten. The mutual nurturing of your tribal members has been forgotten in the core of civilization called economy and it is a rotten apple which we are born in, therefore what you must do for alien social graces related to the idea of HUMAN-COSMIC CITIZENSHIP, I’ve spoken of this already, is a beautiful game called this: Only work a job which connects to the ethos of human survival or to the development of enlightened human thought and creativity.
Prioritized jobs if global citizenship and POLIS are taken as seriously as they can be: Various roles in healthcare, teacher, artist, childcare worker, grocery store employee, mayor, advisor, builder of machines or of buildings and roads, all jobs which touch food, hospitality, elder and disability care, bartender, librarian, employees at gyms, textile industry, pharmaceutical development, transporation and mail
Jobs which are damnable offenses (that they exist being symptoms of an ANTISOCIAL human impulse): Call centers, finance jobs, corporate employment, the development of weapons like say missiles
Jobs which are ethical toss-ups, jobs I find laughable: Lawyer, anything to do with AI
Jobs which are psychotic practices: Being a celebrity owing to the ways in which celebrity veneration is a psychotic practice
What people should consider more often is that your job is generally speaking how you contribute to the mission which is human existence, so if you spend 8 hours a day at a call center, your existence is tied not to humanity but rather to the economy. That you contribute to the world being a symptom of having an antisocial economy. Owing to the antisocial nature of the economy it’s easy to bite the bullet and forget the roots of human existence and rather be, what I call, this is what happens when you have a damnable economy job instead of a human human job: I call it the PIG PLAGUE.
The PIG PLAGUE I use to describe several loosely connected matters. Sometimes, it’s an economy pig. A piggy bank jar pig. That kind of a PIG PLAGUE.
Other times, much different.
Shall we discuss the PIG PLAGUE today, yes, I think we shall.
The PIG PLAGUE is something which infests itself in modern day society.
It has to do with people liking cops. If you watch a cop show, if you are a cop, if you like cops or find arrests to be fascinating, you have the PIG PLAGUE and are no better than the average medieval serf who cheered at executions. Medieval serf, I call you. Medieval serf.
There are people I know who look like medieval serfs and they disgust me. If you’ve ever called the cops on someone, and you weren’t actively being attacked, you have the PIG PLAGUE. Likely if you look like a medieval serf it’s because once in another lifetime you were one and it’s always likely that someone who looks like a medieval serf is infested with the PIG PLAGUE as some deranged God-ordained starting point for their humanly existence. But that’s me being judgmental.
The editor known as the author transcribing the word of BABALON would like to seek immunity from vitriol for statements on the looks of medieval serfs and those people who resemble them.
I don’t know how or why they keep approving souls with the PIG PLAGUE.
The PIG PLAGUE makes me wish I could just play with humanity like puppets. The PIG PLAGUE makes me wish that this world were mine to control like an evil mother. The PIG PLAGUE makes me wonder how humans assume God could love them.
I can’t describe the magnitude of the PIG PLAGUE. If you’ve ever asked to speak to the manager, you have the PIG PLAGUE. If you’ve ever given a service worker a hard time, you have the PIG PLAGUE. If you’ve ever identified as a Nazi, a Confederate, or a capitalist, you have the PIG PLAGUE.
If you’re afraid of schizophrenics you have the PIG PLAGUE. This ranges from light PIG PLAGUE symptomotology to extreme.
Having bipolar disorder as in EXPERIENCING MANIA can function as a cure to the PIG PLAGUE but it is not ensured to work. Why this happens is because MANIA is an outburst of high vibrational energy which may evade the lower vibrational workings of the PIG PLAGUE.
If you were involved in my life from August 4th, 2025 through August 22nd, 2025 you have the PIG PLAGUE.
My mother and father are an exception.
If you’re afraid of goth people you have the PIG PLAGUE.
If you’re against abortion you have the PIG PLAGUE.
As yet there are several members of my family SICK with the PIG PLAGUE.
The PIG PLAGUE primarily afflicts stupid people and is in itself a sign of stupidity.
There is a magnitude to the PIG PLAGUE. There is a magnitude to the PIG PLAGUE.
I find myself disgusted by people who are stupid unless something about them is particularly sympathetic mostly because I can assume that as a result of their mental deficiency they have the PIG PLAGUE and the PIG PLAGUE is all they know.
[editor’s notes: Forgive me for it is the word of BABALON.]
Going to church regularly is a sign of the PIG PLAGUE.
Using AI for entertainment is a sign of the PIG PLAGUE.
Ugly men generally have the PIG PLAGUE; reading philosophy or becoming a musician are two ways to cure them of the PIG PLAGUE, as in prescribing them with these activities.
There are some people of Christian thought who avoid the PIG PLAGUE by becoming devoted to community service.
People who volunteer at food banks by and large are NOT sick with the PIG PLAGUE.
The only person who could love a person with the PIG PLAGUE is another person sick with the PIG PLAGUE or an insipidly loving mother. Mothers with children who have the PIG PLAGUE should beat them sick, I mean beat their adult children with a stick, but that would be too carceral and contribute to the PIG PLAGUE.
The PIG PLAGUE is what I hate about humanity. The PIG PLAGUE is what I hate about existing in a fashion which beseeches human contact.
The PIG PLAGUE is widespread and common. You can sense it everywhere from how a person holds themselves to the rotten core of their waste of space of a soul.
The military fosters a kind of PIG PLAGUE in its forces.
Homosexuality is one cure to the PIG PLAGUE.
I want those free of the PIG PLAGUE to free this Earth of the PIG PLAGUE by physically assaulting those with the PIG PLAGUE the second someone shows signs of it. As yet this remains too carceral and would yet again contribute to the PIG PLAGUE.
The PIG PLAGUE is a financier and a Karen and a medieval serf grunt of a modern human who watches cop shows. The PIG PLAGUE should be made an illegal affect but the PIG PLAGUE infests those who work in government and in the law.
People who have the PIG PLAGUE don’t make it to Heaven, this is because Heaven is mine to create and not yours. What I’m avoiding by avoiding members of PIG NATION HUMANITY is the tight-lacing of human joy into a medieval serf’s grunting violence.
When you enter my queendom I will forcibly remove the PIG PLAGUE from you and ask you who you are without your sickness, and if you do not show signs of improvement in my PIG PLAGUE CURING PURGATORY CAMP, you will be asked to become some manner of animal in a reincarnated fashion.
The PIG PLAGUE is an ugly, sickening veil to the brilliance of humanity.
There’s a bitch who went to my high school who caught the PIG PLAGUE, bad.
I’m being asked to cure the PIG PLAGUE like the most hateful, hateful of calculating mothers.
When you enter my queendom you will be tormented on the nature of the PIG PLAGUE by I, yours truly. This is how GOD will weigh your heart in the fashion of all eras of human thought coming together for one communist afterlife.
Kill your inner PIG today.
God, I have to calm down sometimes. YES, I believe in the inherent worth and value of all humans, despite the PIG PLAGUE. Trust me.”
– Love, BABALON, allegedly, I believe this speech is more so the author’s take on a rare thing known as the philosophy of the WHORE OF BABYLON, which few and rare folk have bothered to inquire into
Another speech?
Yes. Yes. I want another speech from Babalon. Give me another speech, Babalon!
“Have you ever noticed that thought is dangerous? Many have and many will and most recognize their own thoughts as occasionally dangerous. One bad event can mean the difference between life being livable and life being unlivable but often it depends on the framing.
What fascinates me about thought is how it is connected to the cosmic world soul of consciousness and how it is connected therefore to all other thoughts yet somehow within this we may maintain free will. What this suggests is that thought is a dance which humanity participates in with each other.
Therefore, we must investigate, and my connection of the previous statement to this next one may be unclear, what is the root cause of madness and of distortions of the mind which are not true, and this I will blame on faulty connections. Connecting matter to unhealthy thought or making the wrong kinds of connections within the all.
Therefore, we must investigate, what is the root cause of madness and therein the question we may blame chemicals, therefore chemicals participate in the dance of the world soul.
Therefore, we must investigate, why do only some minds really suffer, and we must assume from human iconographies histories and mythological mysteries that some amount of suffering is deemed a human sacred thing. Some people have to be sick of IT for IT to get changing, lest we’d be a stagnant species.
Some say optimism makes a better inventor but truly both motivations can call.
I respect inventors, I respect Renaissance types.
Therefore, we must investigate, why do only some people experience neuroses which make life unlivable in some fashion, and here we can only assume that there are some people, I call them this, who spend stints as something called an “Our Lady in Suffering.”
What you have to do if you find yourself to be an “Our Lady in Suffering” is find a way to free yourself from your condition. This is what the world soul called for, to be a Lady in Suffering, but it is not what your soul truly wants. Generally… not what it wants.
Therefore, we must investigate, what about people who like being that way? Who find veneration in their own madness?
So the key to madness which BABALON would like to share at this time, haha, is that it’s supposed to be fun, engagements with distortions of the mind, like drugs are, like drugs are, and human thought is apt to clock suffering where it sees it by eliciting suffering in the mind and in the body. So the key left to you is the extent to which you’d like to clock parts of suffering in life and log them internally.
So then, I ask myself, what about people who suffer as a result of worldly conditions, and what if their suffering is accurate, truly a state of suffering, not just a Suffering Lady’s inner monologue but actual suffering, life suffering, what about them?
What I’m always investigating, this has been a roundabout journey here, is why the world soul is not one of pleasure. The WHORE of Babylon, yes, would like to know why the core feature of cosmos is not the pleasure of being part of it.
I don’t see enough humans living for pleasure.
I don’t see enough humans arranging life to please all members.
When I look at the world soul, I see ambition, I see madness, and it makes me sad.
What I’d like to do is become your world soul in a sensual, pleasing way, but it’s such a big jump in consciousness, it would almost be scary…
So all I can do is work my magic and hope the little people find their way.”
Another speech shall come, yes!
“We need to don the affect of a frat boy sometimes to get on. By this I mean we should never forget the importance of booze and a good game, mental, video, or otherwise.
I know a girl who used to be involved in mental games so complex your brain could just go haywire trying to imagine them and she called it empathy.
What she did was contact the abyssal space of someone’s heart energy and felt and talked her way through it.
Maybe you can’t imagine what I’m speaking of but it was a grand hobby a majestic hobby hardly a waste of space but such an alien thing to do. Such a mad thing to accomplish.
The madness was in its lack of focus on the telepathic claircognizant mind to channel but rather on that abyssal heart space. What she wanted to know was the vast unknown of emotional matter.
It filled her days with calculation. She became most discerning about the murky waters. She became… odd.
One day she became uncaring in a deep way, a passionate way, and this lack of care was an act of love to the self most majestic, I think.
So she became sick and started tinkering with her heart like a magician and wondered what happened to the soft afterglow of reading a person’s heart and taking its word as chess game to master.
So what happened after that is she had to let her heart go, for a while, and let it grow in its previous wild patterns.
Why I share this story is to share the danger of a woman known to me and of the murky intangible things she does to thrive.”
Very well, very well.
“How about a stab at (non)erotic nonfiction?
They asked me to play all the time. They asked me to play. I asked what the point of it was, the point of my life my god I was aghast I mean with all the shit going on upstairs downstairs and everywhere but/and here – apologies if you misunderstand me but there was a lot going on and a lot going on up here and I was so very very tired of the harlotry of existing before the public gaze that I in most classical terms here ‘crashed out’ of society and was driven out my city by a mad crowd of children and adults in their early 20s.
Not many experience these life interludes – being driven out of your home and town by a mad crowd of children and adults in their early 20s – but I have and I’m still trying to survive the aftermath, the aftermath of course being the loss of things people and money, excluding the home (gone).
When they drove me out of town the Mark of the Beast which rests around my third eye on my forehead in a video game-like HUD screen formation of the spirit world’s spirit presences displayed that these people in this mad crowd of children and adults in their early 20s who drove me out my home in a legalistic frenzy of rotten spirited malpractice action, these people, somehow in some way, they were possessed by me. You know, like demonic possession?
Now why I would want a mad crowd of children and adults in their early 20s to drive me out my home in a legalistic frenzy is an unknown factor but a calculable one. Mainly I was very stressed that week so my magic was tending to turn things more haywire.
Many strings were pulled that day, not by my hand but perhaps by the frenzy of my emotion. And of course the hands of the mad crowd pushing, let us not forget the mad crowd.
See it was a chemical thing, for their frenzy furthered mine and altogether I’ve left all responsible parties for the mad crowd but myself smote by my own holy magical action.
And leave them smote I shall for it shall never be said that I do not leave a mark on this grand Earth.
I’ve been marked. Marked, I have been. They said the Devil marked me as a child to start. I wanted to mark somebody else, I marked them.
I had a haunted childhood. Hooray.
I was a possessed child. Hip hip.
Lucifer crawled inside my body crawled into a couch cover and masturbated to the death caused by the Crystal Skull in its titular Indiana Jones film.
That’s how far it went. Because how does a child know about snuff yet?
I’m not saying I’ve watched it. I haven’t.
Mainly I was directly told this clarifying information in intimate adult correspondence and left to make sense of the sexuality of the Devil, then.
Macabre. Pedophilic. He sees himself as an energy, that the energy of the Devil must be present within children, too.
Do you agree with his method?”
“I’ll go right into another speech. There’s the idea that the most important human CONCEPT is intellect, for intellect is where all things human are born. Culture, science, literacy, language, even clothing, the fact that we have such nice produce, accessible food, near every aspect of our lives is touched by the correspondence of intellect.
Pleasure principle this, death wish that. These are interesting “Coding Sequences” to animal-human existence which Freud brings up but the INTELLECT PRINCIPLE defines that which is human, not human motive but human. Not nearly all motives are intellectual however, many are instinctual, many things which we do are instinctual or for pleasure so how is it that the human animal body and mind grapples so consistently near each hour of the day with the consistency of discontent between keen motive – pleasure – and keen thrumming pulse to life – the intellectually working mind?
Well, what I’d like to ask is what the brain does for pleasure. I know of intellectual endeavors which are done for pleasure, reading is one. Is the most heightened way to live for the actualization of the human being as configured to consistently engage in intellectually stimulating generally pleasurable activities?
Relaxing the mind, that’s another thing people like doing. Meditating, sitting in silence with tea, watching trashy TV. The mind is a muscle, then, it doesn’t like to always be intellectually tensed to attention.
Maybe all this is obvious to you but like Freud’s uncovering of the pleasure principle’s theoretical existence I’m seeking to tap at what the mind really wants, since the mind of course is the vehicle of experience, which seems to be wanting a tensing and relaxing ebb and flowing motion.
I’m directly all energy and attention to the mind right now via light rays but the body still exists, we’re getting so smart now, we’re getting closer to something called “the point.”
There is a sick bastard who I met who said her fetish, which she could only engage in via magical means in magical planes with magical people, was, like an eldritch horror, sapping the intellectuality out of people.
Why? That was my question. Why is that your fetish?
It didn’t make sense to me. Frankly, it disgusted me. She got real close, really, really close and showed me a montage of clips displaying how this would look and function.
That I considered an indiscretion so severe it practically warranted the death penalty.
An alarming bitch of a woman. She had been my lady in waiting once. I loved her with all my heart and then some, she- I can’t share it. It involved my organs and the black market and her sick notions of love.
Sometimes I still get fond of her and then I remember all the weird shit she’d throw me, the bizarre mind games she’d play, and I really, really wonder about the sickening nature of a woman.
The darkness of her is an appealing one, I’ll admit it. I don’t mean the fetish I mean the person who disclosed this to me, her general darkness. I had to be the kink police. I couldn’t acquit her early.
The thing about her that’s so generally disturbing is how far she’s willing to go if she’s trying to fuck with your head, how ornate the game she plays is. She wraps you around her finger and tries to turn you into her dog. It’s severe mindfuckery.
I’ve heard of curses from her so weirdly ornate, ornate is a word I love using, that they require a scalpel and surgical tools to remove. Me she cursed with a particular kind of anguish.
Sometimes, she’s real nice to you. Sometimes she’s not.
We were severely involved, necessarily both romantically and platonically, for about 3 years.
The name of this woman is the name of a criminal. The name of this woman is the name of a darkness in this world which goes by light to uplift and torment women. Primarily it’s men she torments. Allegedly. Then again I don’t see enough men suffering.
Regarding this entire aside she said, “Nobody’s gonna believe you!” Since the pagans “want [her] to be a good girl, their mommy, they don’t want to believe in mommy’s fetishes.”
She told me she only really likes really bitchy evil women but then she gets on your case if you’re not nice to a child. I don’t know what she’s expecting. Generally it’s evil bitches who are good mothers.
Odd archetype to search for but I support her.
She goes by mother and I’m half convinced it’s a sex thing.
The name of this woman is the name of a witch demon.”
“If you keep me giving speeches the audience will forget the purpose of any of the speeches in particular.
Sigh. Hear me, hear me. The town crier has come.
I’m feeling really lackluster but I figured you ought to know I took a stage name as ‘The Town Crier’ once.
It’s ridiculous expecting every moment to be a divine revelation, the thing that’s so ridiculous about it is that it’s possible to achieve such things as a magician or whatever you want to call it but the revelations you eek out from the process can tend so banal there’s little point in not just trying to talk and think when the time comes.
It’s ridiculous expecting me to be the current to save you but maybe I can be. You know, like a current in the sea?
It’s ridiculous to expect our past to be fresh to a corpse woman. That means something to me, I’m falling off the wagon. By that I mean I’m starting to – to – to – talk nonsense.
What I’m trying to do, you see, this is a little joke since my name is Babalon, what I’m trying to do is ‘babble’ (give speeches) on and on. Get it?
Babble on, Babalon. That’s what they always say.
Would it be equally entertaining if I just quieted my mind and typed and typed and whatever comes forth comes forth?
I hope it shall be if you know what comes forth has been beseeched to be of Babylon.
So therefore is this writing to be considered the Whore thereof?
It matters not. It matters not to the narrative. Sigh. I look… gorgeous, shall we call it? Gorgeous, I think.
You’ll be my friend today.
Yes, you, the reader.
My awareness is my alchemy, did you know this thing?
I alchemize my pussy with old undies. I’m joking. Just wanted to be nasty. Really nasty.
Nasty like you never hear about!
Then again maybe you do, maybe you’re nasty.
Mmhph. MMMM. MMmm. MMPH!
My laughter used to scare little boys in the basement. They were about 19. Years of age.
I’d laugh and scream and babble. I would laugh and scream and babble in their faces if they knew me longer, I tried out screaming but they hated it. The way I used my voice was like the way an egregore does.
There was a bitch that I knew once who threw a party in my absence. I don’t forgive or forget shit, I saw that.
I’m mad because I should be at every party. Right?
I mean I should’ve been. Sometimes I fall asleep and I don’t party, been doing more of that lately. Allegedly this whiskey that I bought will help me party, I don’t know about that, though.
I became convinced that all of life was a party when I was on strike from doing chores to get better at being a blasphemous energy in the cosmos. My name was Chaos, the Chaos, as in progenitor of the universe. It wasn’t my name to anyone but it was my name formally and in action. I’d done some blasphemous things to get there. It involved a ladder. Pushing the ladder to the floor after I got upstairs. Killings on the top floor. The killing fields, really. I crushed some people’s bones. I mashed them to a pulp, really. I stabbed this one lady with my teeth. Not a big deal. Not everybody understood it. I did.
It wasn’t quite animalistic, more primordial.
Someone around that time shouting at me and said, ‘YOU’RE A BLACK FUCKING HOLE!’
I had nixxed his friend’s existence into the pit of a black hole around that time because I found him to be an abomination.
I had a massive pile of clothing which covered my whole bed, slept on the couch for about 3 months, didn’t give a damn. It was worth it.
I’ll get back to this speech in a second.
The whole of the word is the whole of the law.
Someone said I was washed up in a tarot reading. They said it like a bad thing but it’s like psychotic Aphrodite, really.
I’m wishy washy about a few things in the new me, it gives me bad dreams. It makes me feel like a vampire queen. I used to like bad dreams, I stopped liking them when they started pointing out bad things about me.
Sometimes it’s like they don’t even notice when their soul is gone and that makes me even sadder because all that I’m really ever trying to do is get through to people that I’m here I’m angry and I want someone to be my friend, does that sound like God to you?
I feel like I’m trying to get through to an alien intelligence in this writing, often I feel my intended audience is alien instead of human, I don’t know, I’m just reciting a few disconnected thoughts. It’s making me sad.
This speech overall has gotten me into a black mood.
Sometimes I just start giving evil monologues. In my room, in the silence of it. I like it.
Maybe I shouldn’t seek to spread evil but the evil I seek to spread is of a kind like glee. A dark witch’s glee. And how bad, truly, do you find that to be?
Falling off the wagon, talking nonsense. I trace these manners of phenomena back to Babalon.
I have the capacity to really turn people off of me just by talking about Babalon.
Is there anything more interesting than a passively, by this I truly mean actively, evil lady? I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while. I like evil ladies, I think. Specific ones.”
“There’s a word for it, a specific one.
It’s called being WICKED!
Muahahaha!”
“If I’m being really, really honest with you, one thing that holds me back from smiting is the sound of a little kid saying, ‘Uh oh!’
‘Uh oh! Somebody smote my soul! What do I do?!’
That makes me sad.
Then I start to enter a black mood and start to enjoy the macabre dynamic of the magicks of harm again.
There’s not really a solution to the way I am. That’s something I wrote once. Someone said it made them sad and I got confused because I had been playing like a kid, just, like, a really really angry one who stopped being angry and then one day became, like, no, literally, straight on, straight on, like a vampire.
That kind of behavior people can’t make sense of, not logically.”
“Because, God, the bitches who have wronged me had it coming.”
“I feel nobody’s going to read this and it makes me sad. Like it would make a little kid sad.”
“I have an addiction to speech and making people see it.”
“I have an addiction to being quoted by girls.”
“I have an addiction to alcohol also nicotine.”
“I have an addiction to not working full-time.”
“I have an addiction to the past, my past.”
“I have an addiction to power.”
“I have an addiction to solitude.”
“I have an addiction to using my words in ways not wise.”
“I have an addiction to glitter.”
“I’m convinced nobody’s going to read this so I’ll go on and keep babbling.”
“No like straight up like straight up I keep having to medicate myself to stay alive and that doesn’t matter to anyone?”
“No like straight up with alcohol with alcohol is how I have to medicate myself to stay alive and nobody seems to care?”
“I’ve heard that multiple people do it?”
“God, it’s interesting to hear about it, is it not? I want to hear about the alcoholics who work part-time!”
“Well it’s not like we knew she was only a whore part-time!”
“Now we do.”
“…”
“…”
“Another speech from Babalon, another speech from Babalon. Can a writer press for speech one more time or is it truly the entity known as BABALON speaking to the audience through her? This is the central enigmatic question of the wizard which is brought to the wizard by means of a skeptical reading audience.
So I, BABALON, would come among men in my earthly avatar, yes, and speak to you and you have such sore rotten attentions to me that I’ve confessed myself to be an alcoholic. The writer or Babalon, who’s the alcoholic, that’s the question. I make my words clear, yes?
I speak in the serpentine patterns of truth telling within hidden puzzle rhythms. If you get it you get it if you don’t you don’t, that’s the word of Babalon.
So I, BABALON, would come among men in my earthly avatar, yes, and speak to you about the darkness of the world which I’d like to bring attention to now, which is the urge within humans to humiliate those around them. Those who see satisfaction in the humiliation of others are not to be trusted, no?
Let me skip past this past because it puts me in a black mood, yes?
Black mood, let’s change the color…
Babalon is red blood red bloody bloody blood red is her gown and the bloody bloody blood of the saints of the Christians she’s slain. What I’ve yet to come to is how this transitions to a state of victorious transcendental bliss and awareness. That sounds like Buddhism but I just can’t see the Whore of Babylon as a Buddhist so she has to find her own way, she has to because I care about her spiritual development just like God does, allegedly, which is by feeding her dead saints and seeing if it helps her to thrive.
I mean anything helps, right?
So as notes from Babalon on whatever it is she does: ‘You have to step on the neck of your competitor with a drink in hand, crown on head, and keep stepping.’
My father can’t read this – this is important.
So I THE AUTHOR would dare to say that terror should exist in your bones at what I’ve done because of Babalon.
And I heard another voice from heaven, saying, Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues. For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities. —Revelations 18:1-5
And because I step upon thine necks and slay God for the last time ye shall receive of my plagues, ye shall partake of my sins, and there is no escaping.
Why the stepping on necks has been addressed is for no reason other than to bear witness to the neutrality of evil.”
“The revelation is this: That thought has mass. Allegedly. Then again it could be electromagnetic. Then again we know it is so the revelation is this: That you can make into a mass-like ball the electromagnetic energy and actually successfully do a psychic surgery via the waves and varying pressures upon the brain, for example to change your personality.”
“The second revelation is this: All human activities result not from the death wish or the pleasure principle as Freud predicted but from these in addition to animal and human impulses for survival, obligation, love, general connection including of thoughts, intellectuality, revenge is a key human impulse (this is tied to justice, an impulse for justice of some sense) as are a variety of sins, this is interesting, and the desire for legacy or power. Still exist there other motives.”
“Therefore all human activities could be considered OF result OF desire TO CONNECT WITH THE MATRIX OF EXISTENCE or TO DISCONNECT FROM THE MATRIX OF EXISTENCE.”
“Things that I’ll need: Playing cards, artwork, stuffed animals, libido instruments, makeup, music and its various instruments as well, the essential tools of witchcraft, a knife, a wand, a wardrobe fit for a prince’s dowry, jewels and jewelry, several books, computing devices, a calculator, shoes, various drugs, vessels for drinking, vessels for clothing, scenting objects, and pills. Write this down.”
“I’ll also need food as well.”
“Goodbye.”
“With these tools I plan to make my body anew.”
“I once saw a man roar like a dinosaur because I put him into the ABYSS and started talking to him funky and it turned him into a MONSTER.”
“I once saw the Beast of the Sea, the one from the Bible, poke his head out and say something so sweet it’s best left a mystery. He asked if I wanted a show, for starters. You know, for him to put one on.”
“Anyway, have you ever noticed how similar the prototypical pictures of Kali Ma and Babalon are? They’re posed so similarly, the staging’s quite the same. And both women, both women associated with APOCALYPSE, with DESTRUCTION. To me it looks like Kali Ma’s the mother.”
A SERIES OF POEMS FROM THE HARLOT:
“I once saw my friend abandon me because I’d been quieter than normal at her house.”
“I once saw my friend abandon me so I turned her into a mouse.”
“I once blinded a woman to my crime, my crime being the stress of having a mind.”
“I once left myself with 1 2 3 4 5 6 friends and I said it’s not enough, I want acquaintances back. Acquaintances I like because I don’t have to be intimate, I’m allowed to be a sardonic hot topic do my rounds and dip out.”
“I once let my friends die like flies and once it was done I flipped their bodies over carved their souls out and marked them with my death mark.”
“I once killed my heart with a stake in the dead of night and felt it thump for the last time. I called it becoming a vampire, not surprisingly it’s a roundabout way of getting there which I’d label as an absolute atrocity of action most magical in reach of human hands is a stake take it and kill your heart out. I’m sick of something specific. Then again I was diagnosed with a terminal despair condition and asked to fix it, maybe the heart’s the start but who knows, really, really I’m a witch woman in search of something specific, which is called vampirism so what’s tricky is how to balance that with good mood feelings in lieu of vampire community. Really, it’s a toss-up pickle.”
“I once faced a variety of spirits who tried various ways to bring my heart back and what was killing me, what had really killed my heart out, was that it was only ever the spirits who cared where my heart was at. You know, like, physically.”
“She called the following message, the message which I’m about to share, several things: Sacred, erotic, nonsense.
I once turned my backs to the world, backs I mean in plural, walked down the path a little longer, Hekate had been my closest friend for about 3 years by the last note of the song I cried only – only – only 5 months later, that’s how long it took before the shoe dropped. Talking nonsense, falling off the wagon, I trace these manners of phenomena back to Babalon. I’d been a baby about shoes dropping for months, it was my fundamental neurosis, I was always waiting for the shoe to drop, I the doomed woman, something was wrong I don’t know how they made sense of it, made sense of any of it I was a doomed fundamentally broken woman and they still loved they still cared they spent every waking hour of my day making it their mission to care, and still they said nothing. They didn’t care about what would matter to me in one year all they cared for was being present for me like nobody else did and I don’t know how they made sense of it. Really they just didn’t say anything about something that was gonna make me cry, a whole bunch, and it was gonna make me real sad for a few months. They kneaded me like bread and said I was their best friend their confidant like it didn’t even matter how I cried about the way shoes drop, they didn’t get into it. I had called my body a prophet what it was a prophet for was the doom of me I known as THE RAVEN OF DEATH I upset them I upset the whole lot I was crying like a baby this is complex this is ephemeral this is not something oft known but when they knew me I was still in the womb and I was zipped up and rubber banded with rubber bands for exercise, that’s what I used and I had to dig into my skin to figure out why my legs burned well when the rubber band popped out, I was so surprised, it came out with a ‘pop!’ and my legs felt better right there and right then. So what I’d need to confess to them is that the working of 9 moons that they talk about – if you know the sacred text to which I refer right now, then you know – that working means ‘pregnancy,’ that something is pregnant with something. I had thought about the idea of ‘self birth’ a lot, and there was something important about how at the beginning of everything, everything as in cosmos, it was hard to stabilize and have a body. There was a lot of energy, really, a lot of energy, I could shift it and move it but it was hard, hard as in stiff. Somebody said that the kind of human I was was like, like, a discontinued model. So what’s so important for my old companions to know is that the path that I was walking on, why it was so difficult for me to be in some sense which you know of, was the path of becoming a person at all, in the primordial sense. It was because of Chaos! I didn’t understand certain things. I was a baby in the womb of me. There was noise and there were people. Bad people. People other than mama. The bad people held me really awkward and I really wanted to be alone in her and then I got older and I heard my voice and I thought to myself, how neat, I’d like to see where it goes. So I did but I needed a companion, somebody who knew about the big world, and I was all alone and everybody kept looking at me like a lion, they looked like lions, so I threw up and got really, really big and I think I killed my mama. She had said she was going to do something really bad to me and looked at me like a Iion so I killed her with my teeth like a lion. She called me a kitty when she was bleeding. A lot of people had called me a kitty they really liked me. One time God called me a kitty and put me in a box – he actually did this twice – and called me Schrödinger’s kitty. I had a long-term affinity for that. I made sure in certain rituals that I’d really be Schrödinger’s kitty but I was ok too with it just being the general term for the way I am as a woman. What I can’t believe in are certain correspondences optimistic when I’m depressed or when money is tough. But it’s really neat to be Schrödinger’s kitty, it involves being marked. I mark a lot of stuff, things, people. Territory. I use runes for that. I scratch on cardboard when I’m bored and show it to my mom afterwards. I went through a phase for a few months which I’d call the pig complex, it involved several matters related to the notion of pigs going all the way back to the time of hunter gatherers, pigs being something primordial of disgusting notion, I think the Jews talk about that but to be completely honest I don’t feel like looking up what’s kosher. Like, there’s something wrong with pigs, right? I’m a bit scared of the pig spirit, in the sense that to be afflicted with it is a disgusting curse to lay. I’m classier – you know, like a cat! – so I just make them mouses. Mouses I like hunting. One time I spent a few hours giggling about how if I got out my bright, beaming face I could nuzzle someone close and snuff their soul out. But what I was saying that’s so difficult is to be a soul with legs. It’s really hard to grow legs. You have to keep trying and trying but I spent a while on my backside like it was too difficult. I had some real issue around then with people marking or claiming my body parts. Sometimes they’d try to take them. I was being pushed around… That one guy, his face isn’t famous his name isn’t famous but if you’d talk to him the narcissist you’d find him to be quite a big deal, like I am, that one guy was really mean to me and he pushed me around like he always did. He’s a really mean spirit. I don’t like all spirits and it gets me really excited talking to them and all but that one guy hurt me bad. He hurt me really really bad. I’ve been really hurt by someone before and it’s happened a few times. So what I’m really scared about is that people say my life is ‘sacred’ (that’s what one person called it) and that it’s on the ‘right track’ (as opposed to the left) but the key points of the track that we keep skipping over and skipping over are the places where somebody said, ‘And I think the next thing to do is hurt her.’ Really it’s been about weird people in their early 20s who have taken advantage and used an aggressive hand against me, I don’t know why they felt like they had the authority but I’ve met some really rotten apples before. There’s a mean part of me who wants to name, by name, list out every person I’ve met who I view to be a rotten apple. That part I’m trying to make better. I’m supposed to see some bigger picture or something. There are people who think I need to be dealt with, those people, we’ll start out there, those people are rotten apples to their core. I think some people need to be dealt with but I’m not the rotten apple I’m the evil witch behind it, go to Sleep Snow White. They called me Snow White because I fed the birdies and the chippies. Chipmunks were my close friends at that time, not the weirdos living with me. I was a weirdo, they didn’t like that either. They were weird because they were different from my old friends and I really didn’t feel like making friends with new people by then, I didn’t expect to feel that way but they act like it’s a crime, they acted like it was. But by the time I skipped town I realized I really do want friends who aren’t that close to me in the sense that they’ve been my friend for a long time, sometimes those ones feel awkward too because I’ve changed so much I live in a world I inherited, right? And then I really missed weirdos in their early 20s but I’m in my mid twenties so they act like I’m a criminal and a weirdo, really the age didn’t matter just the disposition. I want to pounce on the world again. People one time gave me a hard time for being ‘tuned into existence,’ even if I say it, like it’s not like it doesn’t matter it explains a lot about me, but existence like the problem – it’s not a problem exactly – the problem with it is that it’s so massive, like, I had to birth this amazing ball of energy once, it was really intense, like, I don’t think humans know at all about how massive existence is but I really really pinpointed that the problem is the social contract once, like, people aren’t allowed to exist massively among humans, or something? Anyway I hate a lot of people now who I didn’t used to hate and it has something to do with when I stabbed my heart with a stake. It wasn’t suicide it was a ritual and a regular one to have. There are ways to damn a woman so severe they’d make you cry, I know about a few of them and I’ve used them on people before. Maybe I regretted it. They said it was to get practice at dispensing divine justice, me having to analyze what went wrong and why and how. They said it was so I could see a new side to people that optimists don’t know about. ‘They.’ There was no ‘they’ I just can’t make sense of it. I have this neurosis that makes me sad like I’ve wasted time, I can’t share its exact details. He had this cosmology where everything I knew to be true didn’t matter. People used to act like I was wise. I heard it would take two years before people started treating me like a wise woman again and it just pissed me off. What I’m confused about, right, is the nature of hurt and of pain and it’s confusing and it’s dark and the only way I know how to deal with it is by getting pissed off. Are you still reading this? Or have I babbled you away like everybody else really nobody else their crime is that they didn’t talk to me they apprehended me like a criminal once because I got really scared and they acted like I slashed his throat out. Those people I cursed. Heavily. My brain skips over those tracks, how they hurt me, how it was their fault and they did wrong and it took a lot of parsing to get through but they did wrong so I marked them with my mark of death and some days I just can’t stop thinking about it, how they hurt me and how they did wrong, so I mangle their soul again and hope they felt it most sorely but the sorry part the really really sore wound that stays open it just doesn’t heal the reason is because they didn’t just talk to me, really it’s something that needed a friend but they weren’t my friends so it couldn’t heal, we couldn’t heal what happened, it only needed talking and some pains are so severe you need to attack the soul of a man and leave him dead and come back every so often to kick him, has anyone ever hurt you so bad that you’ve needed that? I have. I think I could calm down about it but I really really had to kick someone’s soul around once for what they did to me. It hurt. I didn’t become a better person for it but I suppose it’s not the first time that someone hurt me and it made me angry but one day I heard it won’t be like that I’ll just be free. Hopefully. Then I can just feel hurt about, like, boyfriends breaking up with me. Or something like that. It’s not that I need it to be more normal or something it’s just weird to me what happened and I can’t find a therapist who could sort through this kind of a paragraph? Anyway, I heard from my friend while I was in the shower that it’s a lot like growing up to be betrayed by someone. So why is it that it made me feel like a hurt scared kid with big big nails and teeth? So they corrected me really themselves and said, no no, it’s like growing up for monsters. And I said, wait wait, are you saying I’M a monster? And she said yeah I do. And I said what do you mean, “I do?” And she said I do consent to marry ye. And I said, Catha, you’re just talking nonsense and she said, ‘well yeah I said this paragraph was gonna be nonsense, like a nonsense story.’ And I got accusing and I said, ‘Are you calling my life nonsense?’ And she said, ‘Well the universe wasn’t going to make itself, sweetheart!’ And we both started laughing and said, ‘Yeah, we grabbed that crown, hard.’ Because we finally got the point, that you have to be God to have spiritual boundaries, like, ‘there can only be one!’ And we started laughing harder, like, no way it’s that simple, like, is that really the answer? And she said, ‘Yeah I know, pretty crazy. We went hard those days, we went hard.’ And we got out the old whiskey again and said, ‘Well, if you know any support groups for crazed Frankensteinian creations who find themselves to be alive by some asshole’s demanding hand for a human incarnation beseeched, and who no longer wish to be a part of this mortal plane’s human game for existence, let me know!’ And we didn’t find any such support groups so we instead went to our brother who’s called the god of order and we asked him if he could twist our parts around into a better shape, since that afternoon, we felt broken and all of a sudden – wow! – we lit up and giggled after orange juice drinking because we were going to say hi to our brother again and wow what a marvelous novelty, that, that our brother agreed to lay on hands and heal us most orderly. So I returned my thoughts to those old people who betrayed me once and I decided, you know what, I think I ought to just not care so much about that and just let them have it in some karmic way that I’ll discover at another rendezvous point in life, why not, and that my friend is called healing. Delaying revenge. So what I really did, when I got to that rendezvous point, what I really did is I banned them from my city! That’s right, I exiled them! And then I got them together in my throne chamber, my throne ROOM shall we say, and I said, that’s right, you’re exiled, heathen! And they said, well, that sucks. And I said, yes, that’s right, so now I need an apology and then maybe you’re allowed back into my city. And they said, um, okay. And I said, you know what, I don’t want you there anyway. And then they thought about it harder, and they said, ‘that’s not God that’s a child,’ and I said, ‘doesn’t God ban you from his city when he doesn’t like you?’ but really nobody got it like I did, I just banned them from my city and they asked me, ‘Hey, what’s this about?’ And I said, well, that’s my city and you were really weird to me once so you’re not invited. And then I regretted this course of action that was when my brain started skipping over the track again so I went back to my brother the god of order and I said, ‘Hey, what’s this about?’ And I pointed to the skipping record, and he said, ‘Hm.’ And then he put his hands on my vagina and he said it had to do with that. Then he put his fingers on my mouth and I sucked and he said, ‘And a little bit of that.’ And then he said no no no don’t you start sucking I knowww what you do with fingers I read about it in your criminal record and I said, ‘nooo, silly, I’m sucking them like this,‘ and I pointed out that it was something special that I was doing and starting cooing and he said, ‘no no no that’s what I read about in your criminal record, heathen,’ and I said, ‘oh alright,’ and I let go of his fingers so he stuffed them back in my mouth and really let me have it. That one, the brother, he’s been around for around 4 million.”
“I once heard a grown adult woman name her online support group for adults ‘Kindergarten,’ it’s for hippies, and my soul started talking funky about being a little after she heard about it. My soul as in the woman possessing me, who is myself after spending 100 years in the solitude of the underdark gaining occult lore and talking to egregores, also I birthed this soul via ritual for said 100 years of solitude the night before beginning anti-psychotics so I’d always keep the crazy with me, I had a theory that a rest cure in this I mean total rest and relaxation away from ANY COMPANY WHATSOEVER would cure me just as well actually better than the anti-psychotics would. This soul refers to herself as ‘THE VAMPIRE QUEEN,’ also talks of her tales of slaying ‘GOD’ to become HIM. Sufficiently crazy.”
“I once saw a woman die in my ego.”
“It was soul versus soul, when it came down to it. I was the vampire and she the poison, the strongest may conquer. Her blood didn’t sicken, it quickened into a hellfire which I used and burned the killing fields I killed the world that day.”
“She said it was for the accessibility of speech, that all forms of speech would become accessible, including that of killing the world.”
“A few women have tried to apocalypse. Sekhmet. Kali MA. They gave up because of men and of alcohol.”
“By killing the world I mean something of souls of course as well as everyone that has been.”
“I have a really hard time after I climax, it makes me cry a lot, that’s something I’ve been going through since killing the world. Best keep going.”
The Babalon Workings; 