La LaChama and Peg have trapped Reptily in an underground cage. LaChama of course is a yolk-split of Reptily meaning they used to be the same.
Peg, a genuine queen, was there fronting a crinkly black cape in her most Jan-like wo-manifestation:
PEG (tilting head): We have you together with us now darling so why not see if we can make the most of it.
REPTILY: Make the most of this! My head spine can grow long enough to pike you right through these ridiculous iron bars.
LACHAMA: She is our godmother.
REPTILY (spitting): Shhpht. Your petty associations. I am a monster!
PEG: My poor darling. Let's sit.
LACHAMA (sitting): I love you sister.
REPTILY (cry-dancing throwing her body against the bars iron ceiling rock floor of the restraint breaking a collar bone and a quasi-kneecap cry-yelling): Please just leave me here to die!
PEG (sitting and weeping): We are all grown now. The only power we have over you is those bars. We would prefer to take you in our arms.
REPTILY (short harsh doglike breaths): ...
Phyliss [Trans.]
I weathered it
As i myself weathered
Now me and it
At ease & unfatigued
Avail ourselves
To answer The Question
& we find there's
Nothing to figure out
Before we could even arrive at the be good v do good debate we had to define good and soon a bunch of us had nodded off on the potent vines of Dhubba Berra Chank
That's when her meaty tail smashed through the stone wall of our dorm and we didn't even think it was a hurricane because no power matches the rage of a K bitch
Because we are a moral species like dogs we remind ourselves not to blame her for being herself acting in accordance with her primaeval mission
The conscience of one species may randomly overlap with another but the universe is a place of blotting not stroking condensing and scattering not planning and building
Our whole concept of improvement of oneself or otherwise was confirmed as stupid while we screamed and begged and choked on dust and the funk of the beast
The more of our brothers we saw dead the more we ourselves felt responsible for their tragedy not fortunate to have avoided it
Like the hugest possible period at the end of a sentence once she had achieved a level of saturation in terms of deconstruction she quietly shat
Now we can be shocked in another way still more disturbing
You see her purse her lips and shrink her mouth with muscles not oft used
It hurts a lot but not from gravity of topic which could never disabuse
Her of the smile a smile bigger than one would think anatomically possible
A smile taking up perhaps 40–48% of the face that's visible
Ya it's a shame a lady of LaVajra has to be a politician
Which interrupts her nirvanic rhythm
Especially whilst being shamed for her bliss
Her mouth is a reminder of Mthyuh's hungry maw
And we should only thank her for this
Our journey homeward is mapped to her craw
The next moment after realizing she was immortal
It was La Chama's first moment as well after all
An involuntary spasm of compassion and responsibility toward all life rose in her heart
Even for a nephew who said she'd been admired far more than she played the part
To Missy it was love sustained her up to the beginning
When from the jetsam of burst chrysalis stepped forward a leader darkly grinning
but after watching Reptily swim-crying in a bottom-lit tureen among thick
garbanzo shuck at a mock-cannibalistic pride event
i realized that a career is an arc even perhaps the upper half of a round
the bottom portion of which you spend under water or under ground
first being relieved of any bioburden
then sudsed cleansed returned right-side up to the pearl you started in
there are prayer wheels spinning instead of bicycle rims at twice the din
this must be the first place on the journey my good deeds've packed for me
this shadowbox of a town heaving all its energy direct to the abysmality
the ends of every street rise against the horizon
as if these intersections of temples plinths pools ghats
existed only within a black dot
but still perhaps too much to love and administer mindfully
or can an anti-career yield kinetic powers due to the addition of gravity?
i'm glad i've still got the dukes for putting up as needed
but isn't the real test in the delivery
yes and thanks for your reminder
there's that way they press the backs of one another's gloves together and also touch heads as a sign of respect and good sportsmanship
even though it's not sport
you've often commented on
and there's frequently not much respect involved at all but don't get me started look i'm still mourning the Death of Shab
...
i think i see her i still step gingerly so as not to upset her and strangely often speak to her as well right baby? hi hi hi hi whatcha doin? lala lalala lalalalala
mmm mmhmm
so having to prep and gird once again for institutional thuckfuggery may feel harsh but it may also get my proteins and enzymes whatever at more optimum levels break through the fatigue of grief
do you mean LaLa
ya of course Shab was her prototype but he'll not die soon
or ever really
correct now there's one with the battle fatigue and the heavy weight of the ages weighing on his empty saddle and the backbone that cannot withstand more pressure
but if it breaks he'll still not die
correct
he wouldn't heal entirely from that but it doesn't matter because he just changes the rules from any point that suits his evolving if disfiguring corporeal state. He updates our expectations rather than depending doggedly on ancient texts for example
he accommodates his disability into a relic of the Divine Unknowing and increases follower hits
right but we're not just talking about courtesy accommodations he can change the foundational principals upon which he and all of us have always operated under and from there down through to instruction manuals and daily shiv novenas
one difficult deity can shake the entire pantheon
they say this power does not necessarily spring from good judgment or measured action
in his case yes that's obvious they say it is a random power
they say it is a dangerous power
they say it is a hypnotic power
they say it is a power among powers
they say he is powerful with or without power
they say he owes no one an explanation of his powers
they say the word power is insufficiently representative of this level of power
they say it is a power leaked across boundaries by his ancestors
they say it is a power he somehow inherits from his descendants who do not yet live
they say that power herself envies his particularly intense force of power
they say that even a deity will starve on power alone but what more does he have besides power yet he does not starve
they say it is an unsettling power a power too great for a single source
they say it is a power that laughs at attempts to describe its power
they say it is a power that has compassion for individuals though may be fickle at the same rate as anyone
they say it is a power that is impossible to contain exploit manage distract destroy
they say it is a power greater than language itself which is already greater than explosives
they say it is a power to which the only option is surrender
they say it is a power so powerful as to be indifferent to obedience
they say it is a power that sensing flattery will turn away so furiously as to cause the sycophant to implode
they say it is a power for whom supernatural physical mystical judicial administrative people black and girl power are not mutually exclusive but rather just a few of the categories available to the holder of this all-encompassing power
Phyllis [trans.]
alms scaduh donda flo
caint git change foa dolla no mo
cain goeda wurshi poda place will blo
Fo poke beggin ondeyneeze
Rich foke due in what deypleeze
Middafoke ackin like deyaint got tea
Gahdoan ansa buddy allway see
by Missy
You like to go around ramming your head into things don't you. You are like a goat. Who is neither playful nor aggressive just very rammy. Has long given up bothering to question it. Look at your eyes with the rectangular smudges for pupils. You have a free pass to insanity.
Re: Death of LaLa, turns out the soul sure it's great but does require electricity to operate. I think the whole school of molecules of carbon whatever carry the spirit intact to another place where it can then be rehydrated integrally have lost their case. And what would be the meaning of having a soul in outer space or without containment in flesh. Is the soul not rhetorically, culturally and environmentally enmeshed with the experiences of a closed-body, one-planet existence? Even after consummating its state of perfection in a graft with the godhead, what then would a soul do what purpose would it serve. The whole concept of purpose would be stupid. Even being itself is rendered ridiculous.
Is that your deal? Are you like already passed over and bored as shit?
In a higher ring of heaven perhaps you could hinge in with the total mind, so that your brain would be the entire universe, and that would be soothing or one would hope. Or soothing is a body-contained experience only and a free mind would be happy just thinking and shutting off its corporal support functions, double down on sensory and recreative voyeurism.
Or not because the senses? Also a contained-in-body reality. Curiosity as well undoubtedly.
The only other option would be at the very highest level, being and knowing everything. Which could happen without a corpus but sounds challenging and burdensome. And of course, why?
In this moment and place, my love is yours.
Donna
Hermaphroditism can creep out from between the folds
Her male structures burst upon herself and any nearby
Sisters
Pandolora do you cry? Why do you cry
You have taken back the reproductive process
Even though you yourself were merely a
Clone
The stress in your environment, not your life choices
A mechanism for spreading pollen to your generations
Supersedes genetic pre-decisioning and intended commercial
Purpose
por Sto. Rabo
ho reason is come t'dis
izza orbiduf d'planets
if we had some moons to keep warm all year
not tyrant stars that care not who we are
we'd have more room to plant and grow my dear
lunar together travelling far
i saw about moonlight
onna inuhneh an i
fell in luh thinkinuh
moonlight is a freak light it's a re-light not a true light mind
more moons would make the night a verdant brite-lit kind
enough for us to leave the stars and all their fire behind
moonlight onna inuhneh
freak like an immigruh
soun like a typo luh
no true flower is too flower-like no true home needs starlight
we used to be so burdened by the laws of nature are a lie
let's chart our own course thru the universe moons at our side
love that take away erythang
ner give it back
juss wen yr ship comin in, comin in
to keep you grateful love at harvest time someone must die
death sweeps you in its wings to the re-knowing of impermanence
and leaves you high and dry unlike a tropic island paradise
take R moons an go
grab some mo on d'way
harviss ery day
wave it in your face.
Me have no plans for these moons minutes seconds to come besides
occupying space.
Freedom's not to run to roam not to walk away or come on home or
keep up with a pace.
an oath reaches the air and wondering
if the mountain is listening
all the mixes of genes and genders
trickle upward rendered by flame
disappear just the same
mother coughing up sweet poison
rings of voice on narrow ambitus
with Ilyn and his abacus
the prayer interrupts the transition
our mission remains at the border
in the naked disorder
gonna get a little of, girly get a little of, get a little of, girl
you know whatchr gonna get, gonna get a little of
from our God above.
boy oh boy i betcha caynt i betcha caynt you cayn't guess
whatchr prezzie's gonna be oh boy, oh boy this prezzie is
the biggest biggest thing you ever seen oh boy a prezzie
from our God above.
tranny tranny tranny whatchya gonna be? you a tranny that's
a very plain to see oh tranny tranny tranny are you granpa
or a granny whatchya got whatchya got tranny what you got
from our God above?
This meant that both private and public entities with private and public monitoring and recording operations could negotiate the content of your entire life since The Crack without your knowledge or participation. This would never do of course especially for those who could afford to stop it. This is what led to the Federation of Jansdaad Dads' (FJD) notorious assassination of Mthyuh Preservation Society Pilgrim General Chang K. Chang at Chang K. Chang Chank during Same Moons since many Same Moons now.
My associations prevent me from any movement at this time
Haha! I'm just asking you to get yr ass off my pijama soze i can put it on
And I'm telling you i have associations with moving my ass that are painful
Oh i thought you meant like your associations like friends affiliate joiny-join groups...
Don't get me started on friends and groups they all have horrifying associations
Horrifying soze i can have my pijama
In that if i move if i move toward an object i start to receive visions and those visions are flashbacks of horrifying experiences with the object
So it's not the objects really but what they remind you of
Associations
Uh huh. Pijama?
Let me ask you are you ready to move toward a fresh horror
No i don't like that
Then why not find a different pijama because i can accept it where it is now
Then i should try an also accept it, is that it
One way to move is to move on in a conversation
Ima move your face in a minute
I understand that you love me so your threats are more like caresses
For someone who is scared shitless you seem too randy
Don't get me started on randy
Tell me this do you also have horrific associations with moving away from rather than toward objects
No receding objects diminish fractally in terms of threat
I am going to walk backwards while you toss me my pijama
sloping mowed public grass
rectangle visible from the sky
dips and drains to embrace flooding
pulls in light public flotsam
which earns a municipal mulching
mown to fodder for new layers
there should have been an intervention
aimed at the plague in the upper tips
of the oldest circle of growth in the district
planted for ritual meaning or use
by native savages or civilians turned savage
where foxes and children ne'er do play
due to the border owners and their brutes
who claim and guard the plot complicitly
participate in de facto no-trespass
The immolation of innocence then turns out to be a central factor in so much of lavajraja.
We don't know that these creatures are innocent only that they are helpless to escape our will.
And that they seem to be born to be set on fire and smoked in a pipe.
Yes.
And that it's no coincidence that the molecules of their carbonated flesh connect with unique nirvanic receptors in cross-species administration by inhalation, sublingually or crammed into orifices.
It seems that way.
Of course who even thinks about it? Right. Hardly anyone.
Age lines gone develop over time on anyone i'm talking about unexpected lines and even deeper structural changes that are not expressed in any of my blood relatives.
And you believe that these changes have been the result of your lived experience
Right, because my predestined trajectory was corrupted and has continued to become so in a dizzyingly fractalizing pattern. My experience has been so different than lidderly any of the Jans ever.
Jan, i'd like you to reflect on something, and i want you to take your time to respond. Remember that you are in a circle of safety and respect here.
What is it?
When you say that your experience has been so different, i wonder what examples come to mind, examples of experiences, perhaps, that set you so dramatically apart, as you describe it, from your family and peers in the Chank Lands?
You are standing at the top of a gigantic scaffolding braced against the face of a high cliff. You have to hold on to a railing to avoid being brushed away by the wind from my nostrils. All that just so that you can look into my face as we speak. I can dart out my tongue and have you whole way in the back of my throat to savor all day if i wished.
Is that what you would want to do?
See what i mean? You wonder if i might ingest you. Doesn't make for fun family occasions.
Well, give me an example. Because apart from what you've just pointed out, i don't feel estranged from you at all. And we just met.
Ok, i was out on a festival day just soaring not bothering anyone except that i had to drop excrement and there was no way i was going all the way out to sea because I had to be by my Jans for lunch. So there was a nice anonymous patch of green grass aim fire done.
K's are notorious for dropping dung on undesignated sites. And it was festival so you didn't do the laughing cry, i assume.
Right. So i get to my Jans and Jan's like never mind we're not going. I'm like what do you mean not going where. She says ya we were gonna have a picnic but some mthyuhfarking K just dunged up the whole park. The tables are completely buried. Alls you can see is a flagpole sticking up there where the field office was.
Ah, yes, that does sound like a very good example of what you're talking about. Delightful!
It's one of my favorites. I love to tell that one. She was sobbing so hard but she held out the palm of her hand to signal that i should not come near to comfort her.
She cried not for the spoiled picnic, but for the devastating toll your genetic path has taken upon your most elemental networks and interfaces.
Devastating i don't know about that.
Certainly profound.
Ya, i'm surprised you would say devastating i had you tagged more as your difference has widened the diversity of the family or just one more aspect of someone they love etc.
That's what i meant. Of course. And you? How do you see it?
Sobbing is surrender. They have to be reminded to praise Mthyuh. I am not the reality police-- i don't have to be. My presence alone jars one into submission: to me, and therefore to lavajraja.
it's taken a while, but the good memories are coming on
all that cement, and then the stone, scorpions poisoned springs
there were words that were pictures of another tongue
i think of the smiling faces among the barbed warnings
a subset of the females was eager to bring you in
they could announce their thirst with bright scarves whereas the men
were so undercover you might mistake them for border patrol guys
working an angle down at the same bar as the wandering eyes
off the same parking lot as the hooptie-tel and the vittle grill
you can get your mom across or get off with your cousin's boss
there's dim lights and cold drinks like any dive in the heat sink
a private betting parlor more than a moment to think for a wayside crawler
there's a highway runs through
but it cuts us in two
there's a bridge, but it's costly to use
i'm a peacock on a road
you're the last horned toad
in a place that only we knew
by Silvia
Important shimmering of the regulatory codex happens between partisan representatives either in different parts of heavily wooded areas or at the edges of adjacent cliffs or even sometimes in abandoned bone nests, which can hang from the cliffs as long as the rock can hold them.
K's peering from the occupied nests lounging in caves or soaring above keep mostly quiet during Days of Destruction. Legend holds that the festival was designed for that reason: to hypnotize Mthyuh's hosts.
They wanted and needed to hypnotize K's not to have a big party but so that they could get done all the doables they couldn't do as random prey owing to the burdensome and costly precautions they had to take in order to take turns in an orderly fashion to calculate who can have a chance to be eaten next, and so on.
Plus, even a single K's earsplitting HAHAHA and its wingspan against the sun, creating temporary climactic changes and blinding darkness, all of that had an effect on overall sanity, even of pets, and this was the most caring respectful traditional way possible to get Ks to just stop.
Flekes themselves of course don't make critical inquiry upon their own generational habits and mostly consider the rather low chance of a violent, live blood sacrifice the least of their worries. The specter of living to a very old age is the greater terror.
The partisan fleke representatives shimmer the codex during the Shouting Moons from forest meadow to forest meadow or cliff to cliff and they must conduct the regulatory negotiations only by shouting back and forth as loudly as they can. This tends to keep the messages short and heartfelt. They all know the festival is only a weekend long. But they have needs, which tend to be generously met if they can get them across and back again, sometimes heavily depending on the winds.
The partisan fleke representatives must wear very bright robes as a sign that they are vulnerable and evocative to Ks and that their spiritual duties always come first. Again, these details are not on their minds at all. It's just another day for them. Some might find all of this fascinating and even life changing if they ever sat down to reflect on or read about it if, no that isn't fair: reading's not a thing for them. Maybe they might talk about it with another fleke on a break or, it is said, share it with their faces only.
During the Shouting Moons it's very important that you remain as still and quiet as possible. Ks nodding out during DoD can wake up. The whole idea is that everyone cooperate at this time, even guests. Allow Mthyuh's hosts to feel the tingling in their spines and pyncos. They say the regulatory shouting first started when the early flekes figured out how to distract a K for a few minutes by shouting at it simultaneously from adjacent hilltops. Eat me first! That is how that famous chant became part of the fleke daily parlance, especially during volca, when one may shout out Eat met first! and it's never a non sequitur. This wish must be at front of mind.
They're expressing themselves or sending a message.
False messages with their teeth. How do you know when they'll attack?
You really don't but you have to also send messages with your facial plates and central mouth.
So complicated much more than if i would just be feeding them to Mthyuh.
Our objective is more sophisticated and social not nutrition.
I'll call it diplomacy. For this i can learn their false language. To serve lachama.
Remember they also know how you taste.
Yes after cooking. Or they walk around using our scalp thorns as penile implants.
This is the place to air those grievances for now. With me. And thorn farms come from barns and cause no harm.
They come from barns these thorns how so.
Think sponge sores that grow on cairns or warts on toes. They rear your horn cells in rows and harvest them like corn.
I went to MPS school. They said our regular subjects were permanently suspended due to end of days.
The days had already ended?
Well no silly then it would all be moot.
Do they still say that in MPS school?
I don't know. I am here to escort a flock to the end of days. Without looking back.
A flock of.
Pilgrims. All are welcome but few would survive long without knowing how to work the scripture.
The pils are born for that.
They say i was too but i'm a free agent now. Yeah. I take the stipend but that's all.
Not every crospee gets that.
Depends on what it is you're half of. Same as all the flekes get.
That's how they work it.
Ya.
You sort of look like a frail old giraffe.
Well. You have to pay to get here, and my youth was all i had.
How can i follow you if yer looking back Hank.
Where you wanna go Joe.
I donno yor a taxi not a beacon?
Just another guy on the path Jack.
Then what was all that training for.
I can see the path can you.
No but i don't believe in a path i wanna believe in you.
That's yor issue Sue.
You seem so smug despite heading for the edge Jed.
Someone's got to occupy the borderlands Jan.
by Phyliss, embedded [trans.]
If you purchased clothing or jewelry for this day, be so kind as to drop it into the furnace shoot near the exit of mausoleum, which is only a pop-up shop and will disappear also with no trace immediately after the close of services.
Remember that Donna spent her last living moments trusting you and taking comfort in your pre-mortem agreements.
How can you be held accountable? There are no lawyers. By your conscience. Idiot.
That's it?
Yes what do you think.
I think you're not dying any more than anyone is.
And while there are those who'll care...
They won't care more than they would for another bloke.
This is precisely why I don't think they'll mind signing on.
It doesn't help insulting them in the end does it?
That is my projected answer if any participant touches the How Can I Be Held Accountable icon.
Wouldn't you touch it out of curiosity?
Sure, I'd wonder how she'd had the spunk to assume we'd ask that question, especially if our signatures were so important to her.
And your answer?
That it doesn't take spunk to know that plenty of folks will touch the icon just because it's there. Right, that part's out of the scheme. But the rest launches as per tradition by smoke signal. Tomorrow at dawn.
And then?
And then, we wait.
destruction is a door and so much more
malfunction is but a single way of many
sabotage being other-oriented limits one
may your every thought and gesture from
this moment going on be soulless madness
not hateful not partisan not with pleasure
may you disestablish disintegrate and
encourage facial gladness in your peers
the end will come the foretold end of the
foretelling of that which has been foretold
and it can be in you the end is dwelling
and for once the strongest forces ever seen
will not only not live but also no longer be
except for completely and thankfully
blank in a vast gap at the end of history
Voice of La Chama
On the topic of trying to better animate my face, what exercises perhaps or massage schemes would you suggest.
As you know Missy i am a newly trained hygienist so i do not pretend to assume what will or will not work for any trans-species client.
You would not carry the pretense of replacing anyone on my nursery team or even my entire nursery team come your first day on the scaffolding.
I believe we are on the same page then. How about an exercise.
Ok then. I am all yours-y if you can handle it.
Remembering that I am not able to receive your thoughts by channel of our minds only, try instead to communicate a thought by moving your facial plates in any way that seems most expressive of those thoughts.
More likely i could possibly convey an emotion as they do in a cartoon.
Sure, that would be a great start actually!
...
Are you doing it now?
...
Oh good nodding, that is a universal signal in the public domain that you can always make use of when you mean either yes or no.
Is that it for today then?
...
Did you get that?
Oh lamthyuh, how could i understand?
But you did. You could tell i wanted to know if we are done with this crap for now.
But how.
I can aim and calibrate my facial plates to your own labyrinth of subtle muscular fascia which totally gives away everything you're thinking,
Trees started popping up everywhere with the accompaniment of fervid claims that it was the original tree or grown from a cutting or whatever of the original replacement tree. Groups described as terrorists started planting even more trees clandestinely until they were basically living in a forest of hearty native trees probably more what it looked like before they had come in and cut them down to grow food. The economy started getting worse because eating of the sacred trees was not allowed and there was no room for other food to roam or grow. Many were imprisoned for trying to lick the trees or strip and boil the bark of the trees even though they had never been grown or developed as food before. Why can't we eat the trees was the echoing question even though everyone knew that the answer was that we can't eat the trees because they taste bad and lidderly cannot sustain life other than their own.
Then The Crack spilled open like an ugly seed pod and there were actual foreigners everywhere buying up the trees and the land and the tombs. The natives started to lash themselves to the trees live in the trees give them names as if they had always lived together in harmony with these trees and were as one with their heartiness and value. They made a rule that any time a purchase of a tree or a piece of land was made trans-Crack the resident of the property from which the tree grew or the resident living in the tree itself must also be purchased and promised lifegiving sponsorship for life and also for their generations. In this way the natives who had invented the pump and planted the cool weather tree and worshiped the tree until first the pump and then the tree was dead and progressed to fascism and then despair became more highly sought after as living resources than any tree or archeological find anywhere in the Known Crack even though they only degraded all of the lives they came in contact with and lived as idle parasites in many of the worlds for millennia.
In attempting to translate the random pigeonization and often mind-only chatter within the diversity of species and communities that share rhetorical moments behaviors decipherable codes or patterns here in the Greater Chanks Phenomena, I come upon a number of challenges obstacles.
All questions of believability or or you know unreliable narrator etc. are obviously moot because I am the only person that we know of obviously who can do this and I certainly did not you know want this to be my dream job.
Right, you might not normally think about me at all, my needs, who am I. That just means I'm doing the work at a good basic level. So please don't even reflect further on this topic.
But perhaps for linguists or historians, the obstacles challenges can be roughly gathered from among these categories:
The tasteless vs. no-taste spectrum
My own prior knowledge skills or lack thereof in mathematics or the sciences or advanced levels of just about any topic
My own personal disregard, ultimately, for a reader's comfort respect or even understanding
My own vast deficiencies in capacity to understand or accurately describe these anomalies
The temptation to prescribe a template of my/our own value systems to a transdimensional context but what else can I do?
Rise in affective filter while in MPS restraints. Remote muscular positioning gets me into the seat and facing the mirror and knowing that what i record must be contributive to destruction but my resentment at the mandatory nature of the task the punitive consequences for not carrying it out cannot help but trigger some fog of recreation.
by Phyllis (embedded)
Yes i recall that
Ok right that high weeeeeeeeee sound. And am i supposed to veer directly into the path of adversity?
Haha, well it's just that your autopilot is pretty jacked.
Whut?
At this moment it is trying to take you places you don't wanna go.
Well what's that gonna cost me?
...
...
It's hard to estimate the costs to you. If you're committed to going forward in this vehicle, it'll mean waking up, looking up, coming up for air, whatever you're doing, and just check in on how things are going and probably including a lot of manual course correction even braking. It just depends on how consciously and responsibly you want to live your life even if it's only yourself you have to take care of.
I mean what's the charge. What are you charging me for this in shiny coins.
Oh, no charge ma'am.
Whu-whut?
Ya, like i said, it can't be fixed. Just keep an eye out and drive like it's yesterday.
No, i mean why did you call me ma'am.
It felt like a normal light, as you'd get from a public oracle dispenser on white. But it had another purpose (we can infer for our own purposes despite complete unknowing being the moons' central fact): a purpose to make so clear as to be horrific, hell-like.
It didn't just illuminate, and it burned, but only inside; it provoked some genetic changes that had been dormant to date. And would have remained so.
I heard there were those who didn't turn away.
Ya, there were the ones who stared as if i'd been asked a question i couldn't answer, and then they couldn't stay.
Because they didn't understand what was happening to you?
No, because they could see the answer. They could see everything.
So the ones who didn't turn away
The ones who didn't turn away just didn't give a shit i guess.
Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
The True Moons bring social upheaval across cultures at measurably higher levels than any other moons phase. These five moons congregate to create an intensity of light very close to that of our sun in a very narrow beam on unlucky persons places things, which immediately become too hideous to view, much less contemplate. As the moons wane, insanity can ensue. The beam's inexorable and unknowing trajectory leaves heartbreak and often suicide or land devaluation in its wake.
There is no True Moons festival. La Chama's famous speech named for the occasion is hypothetical, explaining the use of the article "a" instead of "the" to name the phantasmagorical event, as one would cite a fairy tale in a sermonette.
Instead, lights are out and eyes are shut far before sunset across the Greater Chanks Area throughout this time. Sensitive persons should either take precautions against or heartily welcome deep vein thrombosis and sluggishness during True Moons.
As bright as any life-giving sun, ours shines a light that's
cold and desolate without the moons' generous translations
And where else but in a context of darkness?
In there we seek and uncover associations and recreations.
Only in the folds of unknowing can we find the space for
deep violet or maroon or escape from tyrannous reason
your dreams are the prisons you make for
facts that don't fit disappear under examinations.
As the sun sets and the All becomes much more clear
We can shut our eyes and see that there aren't many differences
between what passes for alive and random projections
how what seemed to be dead drives your need for protections
The Three Same Moons festival, in remote Dubba Berra Chank, is distinct in that tourists, who are almost universally on their way to the Fire Shores Medical Museum & Scarification for a once-only lifetime pilgrimage and either get lost or have to stop anyway, arrive in Swirling Ponde dazed by travel and hunger, and by chance just as the procession toward the towne centre is getting underway, and are taken in by the elaborate costumes and somewhat menacing but compelling bell shaking and drum battering. A highly decorated adult bull would be at the front of the noisy caravan, trying to shake off his own bells, his own flowers.
Three Moons is also the seasonal festival most likely to be left uncompleted by virtue of the ever-refreshing crowds of guests, how little word travels about the goings on at a sacred spot, and those innocent, bucolic opening moments of what turns out to be a march up to the ancient stupa at towne centre, surrounded by a moat.
Even before arriving there, it is now known, the bull is goaded into becoming anxious with a rag soaked in menses slapped against his snout. If that were not enough, just as he's getting out of hand (and you might expect a bullfighter or other culturally appropriate heroic mime to play their part here and slay the agitated beast in the most skillful, merciful, cathartic, and beautiful way possible), the towne elder retrieves an olde pistol from a fold in his toga and shoots the dumb innocent proud strong patient vittle box in the head, twice.
The bells and drums stop at least, and the marching as well, for a respectful beat. Upon starting up again toward the stupa, the merriment is swelling and drunken while the bull gets dragged off to the picnic grounds by dozens of children and a thick rope, and the lovely hand-embroidered designs on the backs of the costumes of the quaint olde country festival cosplayers turn out to be all the letter J, taking their true form at the height of the Jans' beige issue. Even tourists know the meaning of that letter and its legend, but not that it happened in this very towne of Swirling Ponde.
Where all of the ancient Jan family potters and carpenters from the surrounding hills and the Jan merchants and hygienists and Jan tour guides from the comfortable homes around the center and all of the street Jans and manufacturing Jans, all the Jans, the original towne dads and dad's dads, were being mass-replaced by crusading Pharmsupply employees, who blamed the Jans for their own terrorist attacks against homeless non-compliants and forced the Jans of Jansbuurg to wear these gowns and march to their deaths in the moat around the stupa.
Spontaneous mobbing of triplets in urban areas are overreported during this time. We now understand that relatively few actual triplets are ever involved in these incidents, but rather that the enthusiasm for being able to act out mass violent social aggression, in celebration of a deeply cultural tradition, on unsuspecting but perhaps naturally wary individuals or small groups, perhaps the kind that knows or thinks they know at some level they are indeed a freak or freaks, the chance to light upon them is irresistible to many youth and may even appear to them to be their purpose as socially responsible and deeply spiritual beings.
Three Same Moons, or "The Ritual Mobbing Moons," occur when three of our smaller moons, Jan, Jan, and Jan, appear side-by-side in a beige refraction of sunlight and can temporarily be confused as to which is which—as can other random persons, places, and things at this time.
Having said that, we can add that there is consistent albeit anecdotal historical evidence for the convergence of some disaster categories and a seasonal clustering with storied lunal counterparts above Mthyuh.
1. "Fellow" Moons
When Hank and Joe take on a parallel trajectory coming at Mthyuh just before their divergence around the beginning of Shiv Days, there is the Festival of the Fellows, when naked satyrs dance while holding a medicine ball in place between their chests in the Dance of the Fellows. Since the origins of Peg, according to residents of the Host of the Fellows, Olde Jansbuurg Village, domestic restraining orders and inter-special peace treaties are often broken during this time.
All the temples and all the shiv joints and hygiene parlors community burning collectives allied Jan Jansdaad Jans of Jansdaadbad fleke hunters associations and flekes who are hunted brotherhoods and sisters of la chama the shabs or followers of the cart and all the cults of illyn and so many more earnest and upright societies dedicated to the furtherance of mthyuh's journey of destruction contributed throughout 70 moons spun their good-luck homecloth cut up vittle sacks and sheets of fine woven flowers fluff from the garment recycle trap under the spinner that deals with all that annoying charnel that still has its clothes on each and every knowing one contributed to the project for a sociological movement to harmoniously doggedly and single-mindedly work together to create a very large adult diaper for Peg, whose internal organs had begun to both age and decrease in age every since The Crack was breached with the new arrival, a Jan, but from another dimension, a previously humble and self-satisfied existence in certainly one of the most uneventful holes in all of the Known Crack, and in breathing this new air, the becoming of an emerging crusher of worlds.
and then they found themselves stumbling around in hissing rubble and my uncle said whut is my family's vittle stop a terrorist no it's the Jan's who are the terrorists
the past is a tawdry and ignorant place
well i wouldn't know i've been on Hopinna-Skipita so long it's all the same to me
so you think our perception of the past is largely dependent on brain chemistry
no more like dependent on whether or not yor on drugs
so you're on that
whut whut's the alternative is there now an exit ramp
no or else how would pharmsupply survive how would they save our lives then
if they thought of cures for everything
correct we would not be healthier we would be dead
because pharmsupply would be dead
no because they would cut their losses and take care of their own only
can i take care of my own only
no
that's a tough fact for me today
do you know the parable of Mthyuh flies on her own as first K
of course but what is it
she invented flight in that moment and she turned her arm in a gesture of nobility and inclusion and it blocked out exactly one half of the sun and the stripe across the lands created The Crack and The Crack created time and it was time the Mthyuh got some vittles jack
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
by Phyllis [trans.]
and i only miss it in a short longing moment
but these i regard with due reverence
all the violence demands a meaning lesson
just the yearly sounds of it to jump to the
heart of it a meta-critical dragnet
pain sure pain was warful lest we
remember we have a blanket between
us and the dirt shoulder to lay head on
this happened to somebody who's no
longer me i look up to but down upon
with retrospect and thirsty long teeth
these foods represent a cultural trajectory
not coincidentally all that was left: the
root of all tradition is primal and pathetic
by Peg
we take comfort that the past too is real
and in a moment yesterday will be
exactly as real as this moment, etc.
but i spit on this moment as it exists
in any past time because i only want
even wanting my stud male body back
isn't about the past at all
a past that's only good or bad if you're
thinking about it now
you already travel there as easily as
anyone will ever be able to do
it belongs to you now only and it
grows until it's in front of you
you and the past will be equally real
easy to own to find, etc.
I had to think about it again what does it mean to be a living person sitting on a rock
I know what it looks like but that's the problem especially if it's a frozen image because
those don't breathe
After a while i guess i just accepted that not breathing was normal because, look
But even blue whales have to come up and gasp don't they? And the best part is
they can, they should
They are entitled, and they will, involuntarily they'll take air that belongs or doesn't
belong to them. Just take it without hesitation. It's not like the proverb about stealing
a smell because
You don't have to smell. Maybe you can or cannot. You are not even entitled to really.
Should you? Smell's a whole other topic, but mostly superfluous. Air is life or life for
a moment more or two
Yet i say it's selfish that air alone is not good enough for you. You begin to favor
additives and conditioners. They corrupt, and so on. It's not flavorless; it's the gas of life
Now, breathe
in retrospect, the clouds always told a different story
which was it? can they all be true
to be real, the stories are our projections, and
none of them are true
yet a free thinker might take into consideration
a conscious agency on the part of the clouds
which is not the same as on behalf of the clouds
lets all conscience-havers relax
for gods and storytellers get too much
credit and blow-back both
while nature carries on with her lies
shows nothing but the opposite of
a moral compass or trajectory
mother is too kind a designation
and belies our own favorite tales
which aren't about nature or the stories she tells
go ahead and match the horrors of mathematics
to the wispy decisions of Her petticoats
a vacuum creates an opposite action or
dead men know all lies those are facts but
uncynically, not exactly what happened
try and reduce a lifetime for example to
a world's longest book of equations and it
just makes you sick
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