UFOS ON THE LAM


Soundtrack: Little UFO
by The Chocolate Biscuit Conspiracy w/ Robert Anton WIlson

“THE IMPOSSIBLE OFTEN HAS A KIND OF INTEGRITY WHICH THE MERELY IMPROBABLE LACKS.”
- Douglas Adams


During the winter of 1918, in New York City, Aleister Crowley & Scarlet Woman Roddie Minor conducted the Amalantrah Working. This sexual & ceremonial ritual was intended to open a “magickal portal” through which invoked interdimensional intelligences could come to physical manifestation. (!?!)

An egg headed character called LAM is supposed to have been the resultant visitor from this most peculiar experiment. Crowley claimed his artistic rendering of LAM (pictured left) was a portrait he drew from real life! The image was published in 1919 within a book of Crowley’s commentary on Madame Blavatsky‘s “The Voice of the Silence.” The image was titled “The Way” and included the following inscription:

“LAM is the Tibetan word for Way or Path, and LAMA is He who Goeth, the specific title of the Gods of Egypt, the Treader of the Path, in Buddhistic phraseology. Its numerical value is 71, the number of this book.”

Much has been made of LAM’s prescient resemblance to The Greys, those world famous pro bono proctologists from the stars, who starred in a great many alien contactee claims of Reagan Era USA, and are now pop culture icons.

“Lam is a Great Old One whose archetype is recognizable in accounts of UFO occupants.” Says Kenneth Grant, whom Crowley gave his portrait of LAM to in 1945.

Michael Bertiaux, some dude who claims to have replicated the Amalantrah Working in the 1960′s, described the phenomena as the “subterranean burgeoning of Lucifer-Gnosis.”

Such psychological interpretations of the extraterrestrial visitations actually seem to amplify the mystery! It was no less a luminary of the mind than Carl Jung, in his book “Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the Sky”, who deduced that belief in UFOs better suited general opinion, which very much wanted them to be real. Jung then set himself to answer his famous question: “Why should it be more desirable for Saucers to exist than not?”

This curiosity was recently exemplified by the Blossom Goodchild media virus, wherein Ms. Goodchild announced that she channeled a message from “The Federation of Light” that alien spaceships were due to appear on October 14, 2008. Incredibly, this flimsy premise was suitable to instigate a prodigious media buzz! There was nothing even resembling “proof” offered, only mere assertion, which a great many decided to believe, but why?

Because flying saucers are symbols from an ancient dream language, Jung would propose, the circular shape of a self perfected and projected into the abode of the Gods. An ideal savior and/or nemesis of technologically alienated modern humanity, unidentified flying objects have been imaginatively interjected into history, disrupting the normal proceedings of the world for better and/or worse.

The mass hysteria induced by Orson Wells’ radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds on October 30th, 1938, perhaps one of the most effective media viruses ever propagated, is a perfect example of both how readily the public will accept news of an alien invasion, and how the aliens need not necessarily actually exist in order to dramatically effect the reality of the psyche.

“The saucer, no matter how alien it appears, no matter how advanced its demonstrations of power, is not a vehicle from some other star system, it is the oversoul of humanity up to its oldest trick.” Says Terrence Mckenna, who frequently hallucinated contact with alien intelligences under the influence of entheogens, especially DMT, the hypothesized “Spirit Molecule”. Which is a psychedelic neurotransmittor found naturally occurring within the human nervous system.

Beyond even the psychological interpretation, I am most interested in the neurochemical interpretation, as advocated by Dr. Rick Strassman. The general premise is that within certain extreme situations the pineal gland is capable of synthesizing psychedelic quantities of endogenous DMT, thus providing a neurochemical medium for visionary experiences of any and all kinds.

DMT has also been proposed as playing an active role within the brain chemistry of the dream state, so I do here propose the alien contact experience may be a case of neurologically DREAMING while AWAKE. Though just to slight the non-believers as well as the believers, DMT is not thought to supply the content of hallucination, but rather just to change the ways and means of information processing in the brain.

Meanwhile in 1918 New York City, Aleister Crowley is told “It’s all in the egg.” When he questions this statement he is answered “Thou art to go this way.”

COMING ROUND AGAIN

Written by Toby Philpott W/ Illustrations by Bobby Campbell

Don’t talk to me about journeys to the Underworld. I think of myself as one of those people who doesn’t dream.Oh, sure, ‘Everybody dreams!’ they say, with a knowing smile, ‘it’s just that some of us remember them’.

But I forget, I forget.

They tell me this stuff, these people who remember all their serial incarnations. Seriously, they emerge into our daily world from some curious realm that reacts directly to their thought, and calmly step into this entirely different reality – finding me haggard, hung-over, habitual – and they seem neither excited nor scared. Why? Because they not only remember their dream interludes but they also remember their continuity from the day before. Despite all the picaresque adventures of their nights, they seriously rejoin this apparently stable place I call ‘reality’ with quiet resignation. Maybe their consciousness is virtually continuous.

I can go no further. At this point I feel blind. When I finally shut my eyes I drift awhile then I vanish into the black – not for an eternity because as soon as I open my eyes again the world continues. It often seems as if no time had passed. When I felt frightened of the following day I used to stay up – waking hours last longer – if I fell asleep then OPENED my eyes I would face the feared morning (oh, I don’t know, dentist, exam, interview, opening night). And yes of course, sometimes the anticipation felt great – how do you think I ever let go into sleep then OPENED my eyes to another day?

But here I just refer to the good days. After all, I often seem to only get sixteen hours daily life to many other people’s twenty-four. So I get a bit behind having to do my dreaming in the daytime – pressure on – but then again, I don’t have nightmares, I guess (how would I know?)

They’ve done tests. It appears that sleep deprivation alone doesn’t make a human hallucinate in the waking state, but the deprivation of dreams does. So, imagine – me with no dreams, no surrealism, no lucidity, no monsters or jump-cuts, zooms or eternities, always stuck with gravity, and hunger and life-threatening situations that are REAL goddamit, how do you think I feel when I open my eyes to the same old world, still, without a break.

At the breakfast table the jet-setters come in with their travellers’ tales of mythic adventure in lucid dreams. Me, I feel like I haven’t slept (I often feel like I haven’t slept – sleeping often seems about as refreshing as blinking). Anyway, my ‘real, one and only’ world has to incorporate any fun I might get, and for sure it contains some problems I’ll have to confront – dead subtle, too, some of them.

Dream rememberers often appear refreshed by their dimensional vacation (though sometimes they report getting stuck at some psychic airport), and they also remember what they were doing in real time yesterday, and why – so they may well have a script and plan for the day ahead, as they move smoothly back to take up where they left off.

What I call sleep is like the black bar between the frames of a movie. Normally (awake) we don’t see it, but when someone like me slows down into sleep it takes an age (a split second) to cross that line. Many mornings it goes as smooth as a flicker book – next image, next day. Just some days I cross the line and it’s a CUT to another scene entirely – sure, there’s probably a connection, some editing gets real suggestive, but there are shock cuts, like coming round and finding someone tied you to a chair and a light shines in your eyes.

Oh, sure. Call me hero. ‘Talk! ‘ they said. I can’t talk after I wake up until I have had at least three cups of coffee, some days. At 150 milligrammes per cup I must use a gramme a day. A gramme of caffeine.

It keeps me in the awake world – better the frame you know than the one coming up. Funny that, most people think coffee speeds things up, and I take it to stay awake and get more time in the same frame.

cut

- somebody slugged me

- They put something in my drink

- what happened?

- It all happened so quickly

I find myself back again – seeing if I can figure out a sequence to this movie or find out if the cuts have a logic or merely a careless randomness to them?

Each morning I struggle to piece together what I remember of the time before the last blackout. With a continuous memory of previous frames I might have a chance to pick up a theme, at least – some kind of order apart from mere habitual days, another page of the book, semi-coherent action flickering by (or at least the image of it.) No abruptness interrupts my days.

I find belongings, sometimes, and notes to myself, when I wake up alone and I’m not tied to a chair or whatever. I have no idea what they mean, beyond what they say.

6:01

Most every morning it takes me at least 2-3 shakes of a lamb’s tail to identify THE ALARM what BEEPED me from ZZZ satori.

Open fist smacks down again and again and again until what made the noise stop?

Oh Strange Numbers Beeping Box what do you want from me!?! Get up from what? The notion of time then occurs, Yes. Right, but which one? Seven. I have to be somewhere at 7. Where? Work. Why? What? Okay. How long then until I must not sleep? Ultimately impossible mathematical contortions arise, abide, & cease. And what are habitually the final calculations? 10! More! Minutes!

(That I stayed up late to write this will hopefully amuse me in the morning’s groggy delirium)

Nota bene: It didn’t

bc – 12/04/06

DUBLIN IS BURNING

BLOOMING! On a bus to NYC, weather by Van Gogh. Reading that Usylessly unreadable book of odyssey, on the Mahayana, in the long memory, going forth by dayagain!

The Psilocybin speaks more of the many in THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED. Metemorphoses of word & thought through Spacetime, this light as a riverGeneral Semantics: Our use of language can severely alter our experience of Universe.

Mine animism eyes spy translucent streams of organic ether, the open system, Alleluia! The Neurogenetic jam box spins Akashic records as the wheels on the bus go round and round. “Anybody who understands my music will never be unhappy again.” – Ludwig Van Beethoven

The King and I will have our talk soon, of that much I am certain. He’s been on his cell phone speaking in foreign tongues for an hour now, when his call is finished, we will speak of things.

The King is dressed in the very most resplendent fineries, a man of gold and diamond and silk. A full page of TEXT embroidered on his shirt, soul on ice! I’ve a Dogs Playing Poker tie amongst my usual dorky rags, I hope I look ridiculous enough!

DAMN! Look at Shortie right there! (Across the way) Only just made of electricity!

A shimmering bundle of shakti, I wish for to tell her! “Excuse me Miss but it seems you’re a manifestation of the Waters of Life which pour into the world inexhaustibly, thank you.” Bah! She already knows! Everyone already knows, after their own fashion, and changing everyday, smiling then to full capacity, so help me Fucking Christ! Finally, after 600 pages, Jeems Jokes drops the F BOMB.

Abu is an Ambassador from Nigeria. (Foolish artisan myself, sir, what news?)  The language he was speaking has no name and he thinks it odd that I would assume it might. In Africa they have over 2,000 languages, most of which are nameless, communication is problematic. All around the world we speak different dialects of one same language, Abu suggests. (The logo substance of which the word is merely a reference!? Snoogans.) The rise of tyrant war lords and the resulting cultural isolation balkanized the once common language of ancient Africa. (Falling tower mythos seem to recur.) He tells me then of the African land, of their abundance, of a world not yet but rather to may-be. (4 times was the city rebuilded, Hooo Fasa.) He likes dialectic, the universal language, a babelfish called JIVE swims towards Wagadu, and the bus stops in Manhattan. “It was nice to meet you Abu!”

There’s the MAIN MAN then! Fellow bus passenger, and smiling face.
We’ve MADISON UNDERGROUND business now if ya’ll’ll excuse us,
our adventure having only just begun.

NYC sun shines us a welcome.

Hello to everyone!
and how’s your deal?
A fine thing indeed
it sounds and to all
the best of luck.
More of everything please
and do keep the change.
Thanks a million
and have a nice day!
Eventually I meet a girl who makes me look ridiculous enough, THE END.

Flesh of the Gods

Shit man, because when I get Chinese food I get chicken wings & french fries, I’m an intellectual, git-r-done! And these wings what I got yesterday were monstrous. I’m in from the heat & labor for lunch, and damn but ready to CHOW, naturally obliging myself most heartily.

Though ever uncertain about everything, I slowly grok peculiarity in my feeding frenzy…these wings ain’t just big, but rather too big. And now that I take a fine study of the matter, chicken legs ain’t really look like this…I begin to play with the crispy fried physiology a lil’ and…and…

cat leg!

WTF did you say!?

CAT LEG! It’s a fucking CAT LEG!?!

I begin to feel sick in my tummy and strange in my noodle, but no! stop it! I’ve no more $crilla for some other less offensive lunch. Over worked, under fed & w/ reverence for all life as a thou: I must finish my cat lunch. (Anything’s a ritual if you just think about what you’re doing.) I eat my fill, fall into a deep dark nap, and awake w/ the strength of a dozen ghost alley cats; for reals.

I AM BECOME BAJA!

Whilst awaiting my 2 piece & biscuit at the Pennsgrove Taco Bell/KFC, I ineluctably filled my medium chalice w/ yon Baja Blast. (Blue Mountain Dew) Which took about a whole fricking forever. Around the time it got 3/4′s full I noticed that nothing but syrup was pouring out…LIQUID GOLD! I filled up the remaining quarter w/ regular Mountain Dew, and went where eagles dare. 

 To think! I discovered the cure for Sleep & Teeth all in one go. MOFO were THICK with fairy spirit, Blood of Christ??? Fthagn! I sopped up mashed tater gravy w/ biscuit to fortify myself against sweet, sweet maddness, as my molecules began to vibrate at the speed of holy shit! 

I thence thereby slipped through at least 2 parallel universes…2 BILLION INFINITIES! That is. And landed in this one. Which seems to be an exact replica of the one where from I started. Right down to the simplest detail.

Now I must some how find my way home.

Falling on Deaf Ears

Written by Toby Philpott w/ Artwork by Bobby Campbell

“riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”

We learned many wonderful things on RAW‘s Tale of the Tribe course, but Giambattista Vico’s holistic view of human evolution and development as a cyclic progression, a spiral, really appealed to many of us and deserves further exploration. In spite of living in dangerous times for such thinking Vico perceived, and attempted to describe, history as a whole system, and humans as self-made, just as Darwin would later attempt to sum up how plants and animals formed themselves without a “creator”.

Moderns might describe Joyce’s fantastic novel Finnegans Wake (which implied this cyclic structure) as a hologram, but Vico might well have described it in the Hermetic or alchemical terms of a Microcosm/Macrocosm, “as above, so below.”

BABABADLGHARAGHTAKAMMINARRONN
KONNBRONNTONNERRONNTUONNTHUNN
TROVARRHOUNAWNSKAWNTOOHOOHOOR
DENENTHURNUK!

This 100 letter magical word appears on page one and some say it represents a clap of thunder, the Big Bang of Creation. To me it would work equally well as the sound of a slapstick fall (Finnegan falling off his ladder like a ton of bricks) – and, as the main character has fallen asleep, perhaps it could also remind us of a very loud snore.

The Gnostics seemed to think of The Fall (and the Original Sin) not as a human flaw – Adam eating the Forbidden Fruit – so much as something that “god” did. A demiurge fell for the temptation to slow Light down into Matter, to manifest Himself in the blissful void of the Great Mother, to create a world to rule over, and condemn people to a life and death struggle, etc. Confused echoes of this remain in the stories of Fallen Angels bringing humans fire and teaching the arts of civilisation, leading to the loss of an innocent life.

Vico worked with the Inquisition breathing down his neck, so he could not talk of an eternal cycle with no beginning, and had to start from the Creation in Genesis. He implied that after the Flood Noah’s descendants wandered for some time, losing their god-given culture and language and degenerating to a bestial life. (Without that pressure to fit the story to The Bible story, we just start with “cave-men” these days, and already know about ancient civilisations rising, flourishing and then falling).

Vico chose to start his description of the cycle with primitive humans immersed in nature, using only a symbolic language of gesture, monosyllables, signs, hieroglyphs and ideograms to describe their experience of the world. Deeply embedded, they viewed the world in a mythic sense, and felt themselves as part of the whole rather than as separate individuals. He thought that they would hold the elements in awe. Storms and the voice of the thunder would impress them greatly, and lightning snaking down might bring them fire with which they could keep warm while huddled in their caves. In the face of such “gods” those brute humans covered themselves with fur, and guiltily retreating to the privacy of caves (a recap of Adam and Eve cowering from God’s thunderous anger at their disobedience) so beginning the forming of human culture. The strong alpha males offered protection from predators, outlaws and other threats to the older or weaker, and to their families of women and children. Even if they seemed like giants, ritual may have proved necessary against these greater forces of nature, placating the “gods” and protecting the clan. Primitive religion thrives in the Age of the Fall…


As humans began to build shelters, cities, palaces and churches – develop communities and take up farming – they moved into what he called the Age of Heroes.

They gained more control over the elements, and the powerful either fought or joined in alliances, employing and ruling the poorer and weaker. Pharaohs, Kings and Queens appeared as demi-gods – a manifestation of an unseen deity. Laws, institutions, and rigid beliefs developed to control society. Their language became polysyllabic, and poetic – with the use of metaphor and simile – but few would understand this complex language – much of it remained a mysterious tool in the hands of the Priests and rulers. Rich families would have heraldic crests, flags, and other signs of power. Rules of chivalry and Romance (falling in love) might hold sway, but the social structure kept sharp divisions between rich and poor, as in feudal economies.

When the laws get applied fairly to all they inevitably restrict the abuse of power, and even the rich have to acknowledge and obey them, so gradually the use of logic and articulate common language leads to abstraction, generalization, free discussion, legal argument and rationality. Rigid, traditional values get challenged by a meritocracy and eventually this leads the way to “democracy”.

In the Age of the People all have similar rights, although freedom can feel frightening…

This stage, too cannot last, and Vico thought of the next stage (which he called the Ricorso) as a period of confusion and anarchy and self-indulgence. This could pave the way for a return to barbarism, a new upsurge of superstition, a neo-primitive phase, the resurgence of religion in all its forms, and a yearning once more for certainty, and the worship of a strong male authority figure, aka God.

Just as Joyce had written Ulysses to contain all the stories and struggles of humans manifest in one brief day in Dublin, portrayed by ordinary folk, so he structured Finnegans Wake as one long night, with several cycles of sleep and dreaming.

A falling asleep, a dreaming of all the tales of the tribe in all the languages of the world, an endless repetition of human relationships – marriage and a family ruled by the male in the age of gods, the fighting of brothers and the wiles of daughters in the age of heroes, the burial of the father in the age of the people – finally returning to consciousness at the break of day, to start the whole thing over.

We can see the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire in Vico’s model, and we can see the Roman Catholic Church giving way to Feudal England, followed by the rational Enlightenment, etc. Many people adopted the cyclic theory of history. Marx liked the inevitability he saw implied in the class struggle of the weak to demand and win their rights. He overlooked the fact that we cannot stop at any one phase of the cycle, so the reversion to autocratic Stalinism from the initially “rational” Communism might have disappointed him if he had lived to witness it. Of course, many of us may relish this anarchic period of confusion – but this model stands as a warning of the risks as time rolls on…and a Fundamentalist religious mentality kicks in.

Perhaps we can learn to control how long each part of the cycle lasts? Perhaps McLuhan’s prediction of an oral/aural, post-literate, mythopoetic tribe shows one way that we could pass through the current age of change and movement and turbulence and opportunity to enter a mythical and wondrous ‘golden age of the gods’ , with every man and woman a star, without this time Falling for a Father Figure?

“As his title indicates (FINNEGANS WAKE), he saw that the wake of human progress can disappear again into the night of sacral or auditory man. The Finn cycle of tribal institutions can return in the electric age, but if again, then let’s make it a wake or awake or both. Joyce could see no advantage in our remaining locked up in each cultural cycle as in a trance or dream. He discovered the means of living simultaneously in all cultural modes while quite conscious. The means he cites for such self-awareness and correction of cultural bias is his “collideorscope”. This term indicates the interplay in colloidal mixture of all components of human technology as they extend our senses and shift their ratios in the social kaleidoscope of cultural clash: “deor”, savage, the oral or sacral; “scope” the visual or profane and civilized.”

-Marshall McLuhan

And Joyce felt tempted, god-like, to finally write his own sacred text, his last creation.

Here endeth the first lesson.

“The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the…”

(originally published online in Maybe Quarterly #5, and in print in “Maybe… #1″)

Cartoon Monkey Spotted At Macy’s

The Associated Press Reports-

The Macy’s of Christina Mall was treated to a rare glimpse of a New Castle Goofus Monkey yesterday around tea time. Patrons & Sales Associates alike marveled as the clownish primate lumbered around politely browsing the available wares & shopping for pants, just like people!

He cheerfully grunted “hey Chief, where’s the long johns!?” reports Thomas Adams, Macy’s Assistant Manager of This, That, and/or the Other. “He had arms as dark as Queequeg & legs as white as the Whale”, David Samson, 32 of Newport, reflects. “and I’ve never even read Moby Dick!” Rolonda White, the Sales Critter what had helped the beast purchase a pair of Hagar Slacks (on clearance!) supposes “you could almost see a spark of comprehension in his primative eyes.”

Sightings of the New Castle Goofus Monkey are quite rare, as the creatures rarely sojourn from their ‘Pataphysique forgings, but ever since they closed all the Jamesways, shoppes all around the land, get the occasional visit from these enthusiastic, albeit farty, primates.

The End!