. . . .then we'll begin. . . .

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Tuesday, January 22, 2002

 
Much pointless energy has been expended by false prophets on describing the nature of the stair of being . Paying attention to the type of carpet , wot it is made of and the pattern it is imbued with , the mystic carvings of the banister rails , the symbolic nature of the choice of wood used for the banister and the glorious extravagance of the knewel post itself . Is it gilded , gem encrusted , varnished or wot . They look for meanings in all these fings and more but their perceptions are coloured by the rose tinted ocelots of preconception that all such fools have strapped unto their sensory aparatus . They find majesty among the dregs , unable or unwilling to let go they clutch unto the ragged tatters of a cloak formed of the fluff of the realm of experiential existance as they start to klime the stair . As such they will always be dissapointed upon the stair , searching endlessly for definitions where none are to be found . The lust for experience needs to be left behind when one takes there first step and starts to ascend. The clue is their , the stair of being . On it you just are there is nothing to experience , except the bagage you bring with you . Leave it behind and just let IT be . Do not ask wot IT is ! IT is one of the cardinal points of understandin' that may be revealed upon the stair unto non searchers and no seakers . For without understanding the stair is as nothing to you . Oh yes , the false prophets may possess 'knowledge' of the stair , but wot is knowledge without unnerstanding ? To understand without knowing is part of the divine matrix of the stair and brings us closer to IT . Many travelers upon the stair never even brush the surface layers of the matrix let alone join with IT . For them , with the passing of the illusion of life a journey towards the light commences , you have all heard of this phonomenom . This journey will take them towards the upstairs loo of confusing aroma ( heaven ) or the porch of exhaustive reason ( hell ) depending on which light was left on and what the false profet knows they deserve . See it all comes down to knowledge agane ! I proudly claim that I don't know . Knowledge is a snare set by lords of convenience to entrap the foolish and unwary . So join with me , plunge your hands into the matrix , dont feel ! Be ! And say loud and proud "we don't know either! "

Here endeth this partikular lesson .
4:58:50 PM

 
The lords of convenience are ancient , mysterious and powerfull beings that are to be found in the dark recesses of the stair where they prey upon ascendants and descendants alike . They are of the stair but not part of it and within them the matrix has become corrupted, they are drawn unto knowledge providing reason and explanation , facts and data . Thus providing false understandin' and delusion . The only defense is to eschew knowlegde and through watcheng there rather ammusing antics , as they prowl the shadows can a little bit of true understanding be found but only if the watcher is not burdened with ideas . For ideas are the bastard child of preconxeption and knowledge . Ideas are anathama to the matrix thus IT will have nothing to do with them and ye should do well not to neither .
5:33:28 PM

 
An excerpt from "On the nature of the Devine Matrix 'n' IT and other fables" by Saint Kendal Mint Cake ( 1635 AD - 13:56 GMT ).

It shud not kneed to be mentyohned that upun the stair of bein' dat the conxeptz of up 'n' down hold no twue meenin' ( butt I sed it now aint I ) . The stair it exist in perpechewity an' oll direktiones at nonce seamlessly . Rather youse hither 'n' thither or now an' agane , Better yet not to youse anyfing fore the natur of IT ( loike da ainchent munky of yore ) was , is and allwayz will be irrepressible . The matrix is akin to da craklin' of diskarded crisp paketts upun the field of dreams in a land were de one eyed king is man an' de ferrets of retisence reside within his frayed trouse . Butt even den it aint loike dat attol . Ah , da mistry of it oll ! To be wun wiv da matrix , den 'n' ownly den do nuffin' bekum possible 'n' the trufe dat is not kum to alight in yor hart loike da feavered moose of mornin' .

So I sez unto ye , eat of da lime fore da flesh it be good . Lik da salt of derision for it be loike a bruva unto ye 'n' he dat consumes the worm of the wurlde shalt be nippin' darn da offie booza for anuva bottle of tequilla 'n' a pak of fags , innit .
6:09:47 PM

 
And now a short poem about bees

Once upon a toime wuz a bee who went buzz
He was yellow 'n' black 'n' covered in fuzz
Who flew cross da sky sum flowers to find
Den dance da location to others his kind

He lived in da hive where hunny woz made
nice 'n' sweet of a very high grade
Wiv a big fuzzy queen who ruled da hive
Makin bee babies so da race would survive

Until one day wen da beekeep he stung
Discoverin' his stinger woz more like a bung
Dat kept his bee bits safe inside
Wiv his insides out this bee he den died
6:35:40 PM