Saturday, 5 January 2019


at the turning of the year, here we go again...
we will experience the eternal return, but with less animals each yearly cycle, but more ugly retarded fellow 'consumers' all screaming about their precious, un-earned 'rights'
this year we lost the last african white rhino, an archetype, a wonder...
infernal thanks to the arch mage of surrealism, saint salvador dali, who dragged my attention to the golden section holy ratio of the Rhinoceros horn as the start of the great work, its curve the beginning of a spiral that echoes on through the multiverse.... sometime in the last two years I wrote on my sketchbook covering: the thumb, the rhinoceros horn commence the spiral.. and this I have just read in roger zelazny's 'the dream master': The circle runs back upon itself, when it passes its beginning, the spiral commences.

the spiral dance in Angers 'Lucifer Rising' leads us to Donald Cammel
and two works that hinge on Red indian cosmogony and magick
eye of cat: roger zelazny
white of the eye: donald cammell...

"Then sometimes I get up and don my robe and go out into our quiet neighbourhood looking for a magic thread, a magic sword, a magic horse." Denis Johnson : the largesse of the sea maiden

I have found the thread, it led to a magick book (Murgatroyd: shadow of the golden fire) I have sword, twin and horse. the book led us to discover the 'altar of hell' and sixtystone in oakworth park (site of the destroyed oakworth hall), Domino is trained enough to walk almost to the moors, and visit the park and most importantly, shew him to the stone, for he paws things with his hooves: the opener (or more commonly, destroyer when he fence-wrecks) nothing immediately happened, but I know good manners are essential, likewise patience, but, as ever the revelation was in the journey, not the destination, so when we ran, full tilt dancing canter across the park, destination unknown to him, we are void running in the inbetweeness, forever, amen.

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