Going Up

Peter Christopherson died in his sleep last night. I've been listening to a lot of Coil lately anyway, but his death has me reflecting much more than usual on the impact that the music of Christopherson and Balance has had on my life.

Coil was a band that touched me personally and inspired me both musically and spiritually. I had been creating sound collage before I had heard them, at a point before the internet became taken for granted or was even understood by the general public at all. I developed my own musical tastes by hopping through electronic BBSs, Telenet, and Gopher, eventually stumbling upon the likes of Skinny Puppy, Coil, Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV, Bauhaus, The Sisters of Mercy, KMFDM, Ministry, Einsturzende Neubauten, and so on and so forth. Through the electric veins, siphoning at 1200 baud, I also explored the worlds of Aleister Crowley, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, and the Rosicrucian Manifestos. Coil straddled these two interests and spearheaded my obsessions with music and magick. How to Destroy Angels was my introductory textbook, a compendium of fundamentals to which I return again and again with reverence and fervor. This album  carried me through the darkest nights of my soul. The tracks may sound terrifying to some, but in them I find the hope of seekers.

I did not know Peter Christopherson or Jhonn Balance, but I wept at their deaths. Their music will continue to inspire many who make love with the moon.

From Coil's "Fire of the Mind" -

"Does death come alone or with eager reinforcements?
Death is centrifugal / Solar and logical
Decadent and symmetrical / Angels are mathematical
Angels are bestial / Man is the animal"

Mother Russia Rain Down

I'm about to head off to St. Petersburg; I'll try to update this while I'm there. In the meantime, I'll let you all know what I've been up to. I've been seriously considering law school, and I'm taking the LSAT in October. My practice test scores have been in the 165-176 range, so I'm confident that I'll do well and may even get into a decent school. I'm leaning toward international and environmental law. I've been learning Mandarin Chinese, which will be my fifth language, although I don't know if I can still count Hindi since I'm very rusty at this point. I still have the basics swimming around in there; it just needs a little practice. I've been taking acting classes for fun, and played in Animal Farm. I've also been writing again, and started what may turn into a longer work, perhaps even a novel someday. I haven't been hanging out or talking with very many friends, which I'm not thrilled about, but I blame that on my withdrawal since coming back from India. I've gone to some concerts recently with my youngest brother and my girlfriend: Covenant, which was decent, and Project Pitchfork, which was awesome. Before that I saw Baby Venom a couple of times before they broke up. I've been trying to get into photography, but have not had much time. I've.... also been reading some.... analytic philosophy.... *shudder*....

Confessions of a Knife

I have not spent any of my recent time working with my fieldnotes, just looking for some gainful employment. I must confess, however, that I have been on several occasions since my return to the temples, and not without some blasphemous intentions.

Before I list my sins, shove some Žižek in your head; it's been bouncing around the blogs I read:

It is unlikely that the financial meltdown of 2008 will function as a blessing in disguise, the awakening from a dream, the sobering reminder that we live in the reality of global capitalism. It all depends on how it will be symbolised, on what ideological interpretation or story will impose itself and determine the general perception of the crisis. When the normal run of things is traumatically interrupted, the field is open for a ‘discursive’ ideological competition. In Germany in the late 1920s, Hitler won the competition to determine which narrative would explain the reasons for the crisis of the Weimar Republic and the way out of it; in France in 1940 Maréchal Pétain’s narrative won in the contest to find the reasons for the French defeat. Consequently, to put it in old-fashioned Marxist terms, the main task of the ruling ideology in the present crisis is to impose a narrative that will not put the blame for the meltdown on the global capitalist system as such, but on its deviations – lax regulation, the corruption of big financial institutions etc.

Having given myself a few days to readjust to the imperial mise-en-scène, I decided to pop in on a few friends at the local cinema. They suggested that I watch Zack and Miri Make a Porno, and I did... not for Kevin Smith's sake, but to shock myself back into local hipster culture. It was somewhat amusing but had Smith's telltale falsely honest relationships and characters smothered throughout. I left with the usual feeling: that I had been entertained, but betrayed and manipulated. People might say that the film should just be enjoyed; I say then you will walk away with unquestioned assumptions and a little duller for it. People might say that the relationships and characters in the film aren't meant to be honest, that they are exaggerated to the point of absurdity; I say that you have become too dull and must avoid popular culture for several months. In the meantime read Cassavetes on Cassavetes. Some might even say that the relationships and characters are honest... I don't know what I should say to you then; it is too late. I sound like a real jerk, don't I? I suppose it's just my anger at myself for watching bad film. And my militant training at the brutal, merciless hands of The Prince of Kings.

Grandma's a Witch

Raymond Fisman, a professor at Columbia University, told a recent seminar: “In Meatu, there are veritable witch epidemics now and again – certainly any time there is a bad crop year. Witches are the scapegoat of first resort. He suggested that “witches” were killed to make resources stretch farther. “Who are you going to knock off? You want the person who is the greatest consumer of household resources relative to that which they produce . . . it turns out that it’s grandma.”

That being from an article on witch-hunts in India's Assam and West Bengal, where there have been about 750 witch-killings in the last five years. Considering the current state of the economy, I think we all know what needs to be done on Thanksgiving.

Parricide aside, I am assembling my fieldnotes from India and hope to soon have here for you a reflection on my experiences and attempts at ethnographic methodology. I must balance this work with my job-search, however, which has proved fruitless thus far. Contract-killing has taken quite a hit in the downturn, and as such I have not found any postings in the papers or even craigslist. However, my application to the School of the Americas has been accepted with a full scholarship! I guess I'm at a crossroads...

Post-India Stress Syndrome

Two nights ago, as I lay late in bed addled with jet-lag and a sinus infection, I attempted to provide commentary as my youngest brother flipped through my photographic record of India. As usual, I quickly lapsed into a trance and began to channel unknown entities; my brother of course had the good sense to record this information. The transcript of that night's divination follows:

J - There were all these little snakes dancing in my face.
J - You Don't Even Know!

J - Everything is possible......in India.
M - Then we must all go.
J - NO!! There are too many possibility people!

J - Where are you!?
J - Don't be afraid.

J - I have 3 faces.....in my hand
M - What do they look like?
J - All old men.....they have control, but I control the central face........I was at the conference; they gave it away!

J - Oh my god it's a catrabbit! the size of a pig! Its front half is a rabbit but the back half is...(mumble).....Face in the carpet!

J - That monkey has my rat's tail.
M - You had a rat tail?
J - I'm a rat!

J - There was a little boy at the zoo running around with a boogie board carrying it like a shield
M - So you did go to a zoo
J - NO!!

J - Rippling in Alaska zoom into flag pistol.....there's an engraving on the handle...it says "me be, me see."

According to my brother, by the time I spouted this last bit I had fallen asleep and was going faster than he could write, so it is regrettably incomplete. However, it appears to be the most pertinent parcel of future knowledge, and I suspect it to be vital clue in preventing the Palin run of 2012.

I Found the Coconut

I can't write much because they are after me now, the men painted white. They say something like "om tare tutare ture soha." I think because i find the coconut with the camera card and the other maps. I must follow this person to Cabo de Rama. These are the only snaps on the camera card. -Jerome

I Found This Scratched Into Banana Leaves

[Note from finder - these words were scratched into a pack of banana leaves tied together with the coconut rope from the husk, you know? They floated with a wave in front of my bungalow in Palolem but the rope was made very poorly so some of the leaves are missing. This i know because they are numbered. I followed the instructions and am writing this blog with the password it gave me, so maybe somebody who knows this person will get this. There were many leaves and it took a long time for me to write it here, but reading the story made me very interested. I don't know all of the english words so i didn't understand all of it. I am alone here in Goa with none to speak french and i am not good at making friends you know so i feel like this person has become my friend. -Jerome]

1. [Instructions for the finder to write this with password. Also password for flickr.com and instructions for camera card but i have not found it yet. Also maps through jungle.]
2. I have many leaves available, and many old coconut husks with which to tie them together, so I won't worry about being brief; I will try and tell everything from the beginning. I believe I have plenty of time to think about it all.
3. I knew that night was the night, but I was still quite apprehensive about the entire affair. This is why I truly came to India, after all, and under false pretenses. I began the day fasting, ending with a ritual vindaloo with ginger rice.
4. I allowed myself not a single drop of water and instead meditated in the hot sun amidst several zebu cattle on the beach. I spent six hours in the dragon pose as per my instructions before my final meal.
5. In my search for the food I required I entered trance and wandered Palolem, finally drawn to a restaurant on the north end blaring Massive Attack. The lights were dimmed in red paper lanterns and the deck was heavy with opium smoke.
6. Waiting for my food I drew a fifteen-card spread; There was an overwhelming wand influence, and almost half the spread was trumps. This indicated a confluence between will and dharma, but several cards suggested a terrible trial.
7. [missing]
8. [missing]