tears wondered whether, at the end of this (if it were supposed to end), she too might not be left with only compiled memories of clues, announcements, intimations, but never the central truth itself, which must somehow each time be too bright for her memory to hold; which must always blaze out, destroying its own message irreversibly, leaving an overexposed blank when the ordinary world came back, a vermicular mind, voids filled with fog oil, forgetting the coming bone-fire.
(Enter tears, the class)
tears: Did you know that Carbon derives from kerh-, meaning heat or fire? Not the pure Hydros of the Sun but our very own druj-ian naptha? Now, while the deuterium fusion of the Sun will give you trinitarian Helium-3, our own Tellurian god-child
burns black as night.
///
reading: once the pact between sun and earth is made, the Sun’s obsessive-compulsive disorder for pyrophilia is also re-invented on a terrestrial level, according to earthly limitations and creativity. It cannot obliterate or burn completely. Instead, imbued by terrestrial characteristics, the Sun’s pyrophilia inflicts and incomplete burning which is characterised by the mess, composites and gradients it leaves behind.
///
The interlocking warmachines of the gog-magog axis mainline the ichor of the Outsider, drawn to each other by that diseased infection, dreaming of the fever to end all fevers, Morlochists of the black flame hurrah. Solar ichor, War’s ()hole complex, the apple in their lustful eye, on which that tiamaterialistic spiral was built, collapses, to the Desert, a slick and oily smoothness. The black egg hatched, but the child, once a dreaming demiurge, incubated for 5 billion years, its final creation just a paltry heat, feeble mirror-neurone of the Sun. Still, it was enough to cast down all those idols at last. From dust we came and to dust we shall return. Overkill. Leaving this world isn’t as scary as it sounds.
///
Not glass, but ash. Not solid, but desert. Not tragedy, but farce. Nothing new under the Sun, just a slick remix of that old hydrogen sonata. Ha ha.
Edited by tears ()
1-8. Hero, majestic, awe-inspiring son of Enlil, battering like a storm and roaring against the rebel lands! Immense at his front, at his rear surging as a flood, after he ......, ...... this place; Lord Meclamta-ea inspiring terrifying awe, his ...... not releasing the hostile land, his luxuriant horn ...... in the Land, struck ...... with weapons.
9-12. ......, sired by Enlil, great ......, ...... flood ......; he has placed you ......, he has positioned you in your heroic strength.
13-16. Raising his head, authoritative with a ringing voice, knowing the divine powers of the gods, ...... of the Land, he travels through heaven and organises everything.
17-27. When ...... you command the storm which flattens the hostile land, you devastate its evil; you pour it over for as long as it disobeys. You are the great hero of the lands, you speak ......, you go ...... where no foot has previously been placed. ...... like a vessel with seven spouts. The black-headed gather together at the front. You outpace the pigeons with ....... You outpace the black and white swallows (?).
28-35. ...... in the hushed streets, your ...... awesomeness covers the city. The majestic and just crown ...... your awesomeness. The ...... is a south wind that none can withstand. At the place of the queen, the most precious place, you exercise the role of supreme deity! Directing a noble gaze, you exercise kingship in the Land! For his father he has led the people from afar. He, Nergal, has brought them to the ...... of the nether world.
36-49. Then Erra welcomed his king: "They have come! You surpass An! Perform the stewardship for An the king! In accordance with destiny you determine fates with him, Nergal!" Nincubur, the minister of the great place, the underworld, greeted Nergal: "You are the lord who has made the bandits come forth (?) from the mountains. As with Enlil ......, no part of a foreign land escapes your grasp. Hero, for Enlil you piled up Enlil's enemies (?) in a single day. Hating ......, Nergal, ...... as fire, you rise up in the lands where the sun rises." The Anuna gods stepped forward: "Like ...... cracks ......, ......, you are Nergal!"
50-57.
5 lines fragmentary ...... son of Enlil ......, Lugal-era. Praising you is sweet.
Support the Desert. The only way that Western man can grasp the immensity of the Sahara (the Desert) is by choking on napth (oil), but it takes time for pipelines to pump it all the way through the continents. Now, can we rely solely on the promise of our naphanese religion?
forward, forward to tellurian omega! Now watch this drive.
If the Desert must be affirmed as the sole path of taslim, then the military orientations of the US, from its massive Shock and Awe operations to the divine-like sovereignty of Death From Above, all exhibit an endless zeal on the path of Islamic submission, practically more loyal to this path than the forces of Jihad.
tears posted:i'm a bit late to the reading group, sorry blinknweez, but in many ways reading now, when the dust has settled gives a perverse joy surveying the ruins. what a beautiful book. cyclonopedia was too wild for this world. negrastani disowned it, land embraced 50 blessings, fisher checked out early, and the worm-mess of acceleration was (re)pressed into "marxist" effigies. but it's 2023 and we've all see that draco-spiral.
please quote the original
Panopticon posted:this has been the most i have ever spent on books in my life and i dont understand a word of any of it
i gave these books to a trans co-worker when i worked at paradox who is infinitely cooler than i will ever be
stegosaurus posted:this was really something unpredictable which in the end was right
what's up steg.