Saturday, April 14, 2018

Yamantaka: Endless Emanation, Endless Liberation essay intro

O Manjushri! Your being is non-dual, exclusive and all-pervading.
By acting equally toward all, you are the Father of all Conquerors;
as the Dharmadhatu you are the Mother of all Conquerors;
as a Wisdom Being, you are the Child of all Conquerors.
I prostrate myself to you, O Manjushri, who is complete in glory.
Although in Dharmakaya neither love nor hate is found,
through the enactment of your compassion the presence
of a King of Fury is revealed to subdue all evils in the triple world.
I prostrate myself to Bhairava Yamantaka, the Terrifying Opponent of the Lord of Death.

//a spectre of black and unending radiance of glorious splendour - Trepaneringsritualen, The Black Egg//

….as the legend goes, Yama was the first human to die. After being directed to meditate for 50 years in
order to awaken to his enlightened nature, the ascetic found a remote cave in Tibet and began his
practice. 49 years and 11 months and 29 days later, a group of cattle thieves entered the cave and
began to butcher the water buffalo they had stolen. Noticing the yogi in the cave, they beheaded him
as well lest he be able to identify the men to the authorities. Frustrated and enraged at dying so close
to the completion of his objective, his corpse rose and attached the water buffalo’s head to his body
and killed the men and drank their blood, becoming the Judge of the Nine Hells, Yama Lord of Death.
Yama, unsatisfied by such momentary retribution as is possible in a world before death and the
Buddha’s teachings of Nirvana and disembarking from the wheel of rebirth had disseminated, went
on a murderous rampage in the surrounding country, killing indiscriminately and threatening all of
Tibet. In desperation, followers of the Buddha-dharma appealed to the Great Bodhisattva, Manjushri, for
help. Approaching the abode of Yama at the mouth of hell, Manjushri confronted the buffalo-headed god
who called out to Manjushri a challenge: “What sorcery could this frail being possibly bring to bear against
the Lord of the Underworld?” In reply, Manjushri disappeared. Believing the scene to be at a close,
Yama retired to his throne. As Yama sat, the skies darkened. Manjushri, combatting Death with its mirror
image multiplied , had assumed a colossal buffalo-headed form with 48 arms, 16 legs, 13 faces, blazing
with the Wisdom Fire. This entity fell from the sky, flattening a different building of Yama’s palace with
each of its 16 feet, and crushing Yama on his throne under its erect penis,
//throne submerged in funeral birth - Moss, The Coral of Chaos//
The Vajrabhairava, Ultimate Adamantine Terrifier.
Yamantaka, Destroyer of Death.

Symmetry and Extremity
The Sanskrit noun dharma, derived from the root dhṛ (to keep or maintain), means "what is established or firm", and is used interchangeably with “truth” or "law". Symmetry is defined by physicists and mathematicians as having two key elements: //(1) The possibility of a physical change, and (2) immunity to that change, which is also known as invariance.// This essay will be an attempt to communicate the extremity of Yamantaka yogatantra, and interpret the myth/teachings through the paired lenses of the ars memoriae “memory palace” system for developing the memory and Yohan John’s assertion that both science and religion are on a quest for ultimate symmetry. Alongside revealing how the thangka and the mandala are two different projections of this symmetry that both develop an imagistic system for memorization and navigation of an architecture of ethics, John’s assertion will background our demonstration that Yamantaka practice is a phenomenological hypersymmetry par excellence - one of the most extreme ritual/religious symmetries extant. This realization aligned pairwise with Avalokitesvara/Mahakala (detailed in AJ’s essay in this volume) and groupwise with the 8 Tibetan protector deities in their charnel grounds, arrayed around the mandalic palace amplifies and mutates the arborescent cognition of Buddhistic systems into a symmetry-generating metasystem - into a labyrintheology capable of indexing a convergent path from any conceivable point, with Yamantaka particularly being a system for realisation of the dharma within the most “degenerate” substrate.

No automatic alt text available.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

inhale inhale you're the victim

I’ve only told a few people about this time in my life. A brief segue between smoking weed and
graduating to hard drugs in high school found me sitting in a basement with a few friends, fellow
burnouts, stoners...what had appeared in the dimness to be a paper bag assumed to contain strong
drink made its way around the rotation but when it was handed to me it felt empty. I peered inside
and the intense smell of gasoline assaulted my face, fumes rising from a soaked wad of paper towels
at the bottom.


“Just put your face in and breathe in and out really deeply dude, you’ll get pretty wasted.”

A lot of harder drug users will sort of sink to whatever level is available to them in terms of intoxicants
in order to keep normality at bay, and I was to prove no different. Our main weed guy was busted
several days earlier and we were as dry as a bone. Being 15 with no income does not make it
easy to acquire alcohol. We had yet to become aware of the thriving crystal meth scene lurking
behind every curtain in our town (though that would come hard and fast later). A group of older kids a
year earlier had taught my friends how to huff paint from a breadbag, and they reveled in the ease
with which they could get profoundly stoned using things commonly found in any garage. I looked
at the bag for a second and in retrospect it is my experience that at that moment of truth for anyone
that goes with such a chemical approach there is an extremely short list of thoughts that go through
one’s mind, and they’re all terrible, empty, lonely, lost thoughts. One hit from the bag is enough to
diagnose someone with depression, anxiety, trauma.


What kind of story would this be if I’d said no thanks and that was that? Of course I was eager
to feel anything that was not my normal feelings or to feel nothing, to feel literally any deviation
at all. Breathe deep, molecules begin to buzz, time ceases to exist. Who knows how much was
actually inhaled that night, considering the trip lasts around 10 minutes but we were tripping all
night and into the next day without sleep. Blink once and it is 8 pm, blink again and it is 6:45 pm,
blink again and it’s noon the next day, erratically time travelling. Full blown apocalyptic end-times
hallucinations, gods, angels, and speaking in tongues. Multiple high speed oscillations between
life and death that I wouldn’t recognize as “ego death” until psychedelics years later. Elves, aliens,
insects, alien elvish insects. Ghosts and demons. Ultradimensional conversations with mutating
starling-swarms of disembodied voices. Complete dissociation while my body was still active and
interacting with the world. Extremely negative interactions.

One of the friends dragged us outside at some point, and told us a story about finding a
crate of actual dynamite near an abandoned railroad line that was a half mile from the
house when he was like 9. In my fried state I believed he’d told us he had the dynamite
right then and was going to blow up the house, me, the school, I was growing more and more
paranoid and frantic that it would be up to me to prevent a terrorist attack. It was later related
to me that out of nowhere I began attacking one of the others and yelling disconnected
gibberish, fought my way upstairs where the parents were sleeping while yelling about a bomb,
let both dogs out of the house into the woods and tried to start the adults’ car (it was a manual
transmission so luckily I couldn’t)....somehow none of this woke anyone, and around 2 that
morning a friend brough us some weed and I calmed down a little, though everything was
mostly blur and glitch. The next morning we left (driving, with milk jug full of gas to huff in the
car) and it had snowed a little. We took a curve too fast and swerved into the other lane badly
and then fishtailed almost off the road, right as a cop car went by….it had its lights flashing,
was going very fast the other way and did not stop for us….another mile up the road and the
driver blew through a stop sign and nearly hit a small child, screeching to a halt so close to him
that we couldn’t see him over the hood. The kid was sitting with his legs a foot underneath the
car, eyeballs an inch from the bumper. Driver tells the kid to never speak a word of this or we’ll
run him over for real next time and picks him up and plants him on the sidewalk and we drove off…..

Of course this did not put me off further experiences with inhalants, and the experiences got far
weirder and more stressful. Was probably huffing gas, paint, or ether once or twice a week for
maybe 6 months, and continued to occasionally use computer duster for another 6 months as we’d
convinced ourselves it was cleaner, whether or not that is the case...I began to think about how to
express some of the stranger chemical experiences recently after a discussion about putting
together a book about bad trips. I’ve had more than my fair share, and a lot of them involve
drugs that aren’t anywhere near psychedelics, unknown research chems, chems that are typically
incredible harmful to humans and not intended to be anywhere near our insides...I guess I feel it
necessary to record these experiences and experiments for several as-yet-unknown reasons.

Posterity? :D

Thought what better place to store these particular ramblings than here, where no one reads?

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Furthering Negative Limitations (notes)

//Trying to get back in the habit of posting here....even if only a place to keep the occasional note, such as this one for the Thornscape essay.//

When identity (executive synchronic function) is removed or blunted forcibly, there can be an instinctive
fightback against this loss (which is not dangerous or problematic on its own, but only relative to certain
mental outlooks that privilege the Self as Center).

This fight itself (in brain terms: pathologically persistent search functions operating on zero data/an
empty frame of reference OR the pathological addition of new data to a frame that is in the process of
being emptied or broken) generates new identity-frames that temporally extend the experience of
dissociation. This can be extended toward a limit where, when we reach a point at which “bare” identity
is generated out of “nothing”, every glimpse of a frameless state autogenerates a new frame that
emerges directly into a state of autodeconstruction. This oscillation prevents a “clean” experience of
the frameless void-state/mors mystica, and prolonged exposure to this oscillation can generate
extreme anxiety, depression, various and sundry negative or painful brain states (this can resemble
tinnitus - depending on certain environmental factors, you can actually *hear* the oscillation).

This can last indefinitely because every recovery attempt generates movement away from the
frameless space, leading to a state in which the identity only remains insofar as it is connected to loss
or pain or whatever is removing the frames - i.e. a negative bias against frame-removal will result in
the pain of breaking frames, fear of lost frames, grasping at new frames, etc; while a positive bias
toward frame-removal will experience negativity in the sense of being unable to speed up the removal
without generating new frames, fear of being unable to prevent the generation of new frames,
grasping at nothingness, etc.

His Brain was Infected by Devils: Tinnitus as Master Sound, Waveguide to the Frameless State

/// ...Another trait the flat tone. No life. Same flat tone at all times.
For its affirmations. For its negations. For its interrogations.
For its exclamations. For its imperations. Same flat tone. You were once.
You were never. Were you ever? Oh never to have been! Be again. Same flat tone...
Samuel Beckett -- Company ///

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Thornscape: Disidentification and Warding at the Limit of Negative Identity

One day I might come back and put the actual essay here ;)


//The formal refusal of success and circulation in the mainstream by underground artists radicalizes itself towards a desired invisibility. But one which has to be visible as an invisibility.....Works such as Les legions noire's catalog, aka Mortuário’s C32 tape, dehors’ anonymous productions testify to this insistence in banging one’s head against the ontological category of art. But is it a futile gesture? - JP Caron//

Let this also serve as a soft notice for upcoming sequel to Void Front Press' book Sustain//Decay, titled ATTACK! probably due out this summer, featuring work by Absentology, German Sierra, Xenovenomism squad B Konior/Y Granata, JP Caron, Owen Coggins and others.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Panpsychism: a low-quality high-metabolic-cost note

Everett-DeWitt-Wheeler MWI and quantum electrodynamics taken together seem to basically add up to an event/process ontology with no concrete difference between subjects or objects outside the hyperflawed ideologically-individual neuronal world-simulation, only difference in relation half-assedly summed up by the idea of some high-dimensional manifold X's topological/geometric perspective(s) on itself. Maybe defeating almost all the arguments against some kind of panpsychism probably in the realm of some flavor of neutral "meta-monism" or like a monism of quantum fields, that gives a platform for the co-arising of a second order corresponding to dualism which may or may not be dual-aspect monism or whatever the kids are calling it these days. Brainstorming at work to kill time and record some thoughts....

There is a meaningful sense in which the many worlds interpretation is in fact the quantum theory with zero assumptions or conserved attributes...every other theory is in some regards Everett's math adjusted to conform to certain qualities of the "real world" that the designers of whatever theory don't wish to lose. I believe this lack of assumptions, this Occam's physics, to be isomorphic to the way panpsychism of some as yet un-formalized variant is the theory of consciousness with minimal assumptions and conservations. It answers maximum questions while treating adjusting the rules to account for certain expectations as a violation, regardless of how we feel about the necessity or lack thereof of certain components of our picture of reality.

QED=semper aliquid ex nihilo

Galen Strawson makes an interesting point in the linked article, that we must actually practice thinking process physics else we slide toward object dualism.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Sustain//Decay : A Circular Scaffold

An Unstable Release Date for an Unstable Text: June 19th 

An Introduction by Owen Coggins and James Harris

Ngngngngngngngngngngngngngn.........    //

Charlie Blake, Dronoclasm //  

//I draw circles and sacred boundaries about me; fewer and fewer climb with me up higher and higher mountains—I am building a mountain chain out of ever-holier mountains //

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra //

//And what defines the scale of the ultimate symbolic mountain is its inaccessibility to ordinary human approaches. [...] The door to the invisible must be visible //

René Daumal, Mount Analogue //

//Before time… before even the gods… there was only…//

Bong, “The Dreams of Mana-Yood-Sushai” //  

...Drone is the beginning and was before the beginning // Drone was the Nothing // Nothing Droned // The droning of Nothing was the Nothing from which Drone is self-created...
...Om // the first sound, the cause of the universe, itself a drone // an empty signifier swells to overfull // evolves, fragments, ramifies into a constellation of meaning the way a solid droning tone may begin to wobble, vibrate, oscillate // mutating, expanding, infecting // spreading, branching, self-intersecting, self-interweaving, self-absorbing, self-annihilating, becoming different through manifesting the same // “The empty set is the set with nothing in it. The number 1 is the set with only the empty set in it. And so on…”
...the End of Drone, already contained within the drone, is the End of Everything // Drone is the End which outlasts itself...
...from near-silent single tone pure ambient minimalism to crushing oceanic hyper-amplified metallic maximalism // from trance-like repetition of sameness to explicit experimentation with the radical question of what it can mean for a sound to be different from or the same as another sound // drone rotates or fades or spirals away from linear historical/genealogical genre conventions toward a meta-foundational sonic arsenal // drone is capable of infecting all genres as it is itself composed of ontologically primary techniques for sound generation and modulation, realized in extreme extension toward outer- or inner-most depths, boundaries, limits, frontiers, horizons // different variants of drone select different techniques to maximalize or minimalise, whether hijacking and mutating source material or inaugurating original tonal topologies // all genres (all life, all differentiation) can be imagined as mere clusters of patterns of iterations of momentary deviations from the drone...
...elements, both sonic and metaphorical, of drone exist in natural and artificial worlds, in geometries of plant and water, architecture, even space, underground, mind // the Universe breathes - the physical expands and contracts // the Socius hums incessantly in communal conversation // the ceaseless oscillatory dynamics of the Brain silently howl...
// For we know that all creation keeps on groaning together //
St. Paul, Romans 8:18-22 //
...this book is a call to approach composition and attentive listening as ritual practice // to approach drone music as a training ground for the attention, for cognitive endurance, for a weird absorption from which hidden transformations might flower // to approach the melodic and rhythmic movement toward and away from central harmonic figures, the manipulation of the “tension between background and foreground” as ritually patterned upon the mystics’ tuning of the tension between subject and object, between inner and outer worlds // listening to the spark of impenetrable darkness, in contemplation of the shadow paradoxes of language, mysticism and death...
...the spectral spectacle of drone’s all-devouring taste mirrors the range of this book // intensive studies of emptiness, inaccessibility, and eternity // death, death of god, death of death // forest, mountain // Infection, parasite, swarm: disparate mind in shattered multiplicity // sine waves between ascetic austerity and wild excess, at either pole confessing the violence of the sacrifice, of the sacred // insane or becalmed transformations of perception, infinitesimal time-slices and isoluminant eidolons // all contained within the elastic-walled labyrinth of this new spacetime, our non-terminating Cymatic Church...
...drone casts paradoxes into perception // sounds heard as light, metaphorical and alchemical, offer the transmutative properties of mystical shimmer //Wolfe// in ‘resonance subordinated to redundancy’ //Freeman// spatial sense is transformed, illusioned, bewitched, the drone ‘echoing off an invisible realm’ //Wolfe// drone foregrounds the difference and connection between sound and hearing //Kang// ‘the possibility of stasis and the sprawling occupation of its power’ //Drone Box// levitation //Csihar// ‘It escapes itself in a perspectival “experience” of time not tethered to the specific form of the human subject, to be integrated into an exceeding and not-necessarily human - an alien or machinic-transcendent subjectivity’ //Caron// drone is excess and/or asceticism //MOUTH// honey and tar //Strickland/////
...drone invokes antinomies and contortions in language too, which, ‘alienated, orbits around a central absence’ //Coggins// words dancing in rituals of forgotten purpose around the chalk circle which it is not forbidden but rather impossible to enter // in the language spat from drone’s black centrifuge, there is again and again repetition and repetition and yet transcendence of sameness // the intuition of the death of intuition //Shakespeare// the absolute emptiness of emptiness //Absentology// drone is ambient, atmosphere, a hum behind the world, but it is also metal… that pagan resonant interval //Drone Box// riffs beyond riffs, metal about metal, a meditative treatment of heavy metal’s symbolic codes so radical it may not be recognised as such //Coggins// this Möbius strip, this snake which eats itself yet is still nourished, yet is still consumed, this convulsion, infects and is infected, is the infection // is the ashy pest // ‘is legion, yet imperceptible, neither faith nor reason can fathom their presence or the principles that pertain to them except through their manifestation in distress, agony and death throes’ //MOUTH/////
...drone is death and drone is immortality, which is death // endless life is 'an increasingly pestilential drone', a background before which our deaths become relief //Shipley// it all starts with the signal path //Newstead// we 'send a signal and let it die' //Hissen// the signal, channel, noise all at once introducing 'a silent mode of communication that is directed towards nothing other, the No-Other, which is death' //Absentology// silent but communicative, towards death yet from death, expression through mortal silence // the gift of the skull of a fox //Legard// 'Everything that is dead quivers' //Cascone// 'not rhythm at all but merely a near endless ripple of vibration stretched across expanses of time...' //Norman/////
...drone ruins // is found in ruins // decays, sustains // witnesses decay // drone is 'eternity's future burden' //Shipley// that term, burden, bourdon, an archaic term for drone, the memory of the word ruined by time // monoliths, pyramids, stone circles, temples //Csihar// ‘the subject sinks into the labyrinth of the ear...' //Freeman/////
...drone is the life which grows through the ruins, testifies to ruin, is agent of ruin // creeper // root // undergrowth, overgrown // to the palace of birds, to a shallow garden //Legard// a 'monstrous aspect' of Nature ‘seeks to annihilate everything individual' //Shakespeare// a 'whole forest is heard in each sound...' //Cascone/////
...drone is the absolute // it is 'the infinitely dense form of silence, the recollection without object' //Absentology// the sound of ‘a god pulling gravity’s strings...’ //Norman/////
...drone is finally a portal //Cascone// a mountain, liquefied // the listener 'must conceptually climb untold numbers of unholy mountains to see the surface again’ //Harris// the pieces included here departing from each other and returning, requiring a re-reading of an earlier segment, a tumbler falls into place, the lockpicking continues, repeat ad infinitum, ad nauseam // an incessant, droning, revolving system of holy mountains // each climb faltering, failing, exhausting, “coming up against an insuperable object”, rotating into a new mountain with its own failures // each failure driving a new mountain range, each new range innovating its own apparatus for climbing from out of the experience or the text, for climbing out of experience or out of text, for climbing out of climbing itself // Written in the textual body of the climber, the history or memory or output of the climber, each climb demands tools from the other climbs, each apparatus applied to old mountains makes new challenges makes new failures, growth comes to be measured in cycles of failure, “progress” measured only by the uninitiated // for Wittgenstein, language was a ladder to be climbed up, and then discarded // for Daumal, the base of the mountain must be accessible while the summit inaccessible (as outlined in a book which stops, mid-sentence, unfinished at his death) // this book too, then, is one to be climbed out of // drone sound at the end of sound // ‘record needle gently click-flapping’ //Norman// ‘Listen to all at once if possible. Join’ //Hissen/////
//For what is God but the index that pointed to the failure of all signs?//

Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable //

//For what is drone but the unending echo of generational potential?//

Aliza Shvarts, “Troubled Air” //