cody frank

decalcify those pineal glands, flouride enjoyers, we’re going on another trip down the rabbit hole.

Dimitri (@drposhlost)

Dimitri here is one of the hosts of Subliminal Jihad, a podcast that “[explores] deep politics, occult history, conspiracy, and ontological ops from a critical-paranoid perspective.” what exactly “ontological ops” are is beyond this humble blogger’s understanding. Subliminal Jihad is sort of like if TrueAnon had less discipline; the episodes are long and rambling, the hosts do research that they should have brought to the studio while on mic, the sound quality sucks, and the host who isn’t Dimitri has worse uptalk/vocal fry than Liz Franczak. would it fucking kill you, Khalid, to start a sentence without saying “and, like, yeah”? also what’s up with everyone saying your grandfather was OSS, Khalid? what’s that all about?

they’d be mad at me for this comparison, and it’s likely they’d use my point about their lofi production values to bolster the argument that they’re the lefty parapolitics pundits that should be trusted, not the Pritzker-backed Chapo mafia that Brace and Liz run with. last time around I was glib about the idea that Brace Belden is some kind of intelligence asset, and to be clear, I understand being wary of the man’s mercenary background and his podcast’s overnight success. but spending so much time combing through newspaper clippings for the name Belden in order to link such personages to the Rockefellers or some other demonic elite family? it reads as pathetic. even if they’re right and Belden receives checks from the State Department, Subliminal Jihad’s jihad against him seems primarily motivated by spite and envy. the other possibility is some kind of The Man Who Was Thursday situation.

it also endlessly pisses me off that Dimitri uses a screencap from PTA’s Inherent Vice adaptation as his avi, in part because additionally, the show’s merch store includes a shirt bearing the text “Dracularity: Subliminal Jihad, Every Single Episode, 2020-“. my opinion is, leave Pynchon out of this, you fucking nerds, but if you must bring him in, at least credit the man for coining “Dracularity” back in 1973 in Gravity’s Rainbow.

all that being said, I do appreciate how unrelentingly critical these two are towards the Gettys (and their minion Gavin Newsom), as well as being highly disdainful of that Coward of American Leftism, Noam Chomsky.

eleven (@eleevn)

somewhere between the extremely, ahem, hermetic, and the more mundanely parapolitical, lies eleven. when I first encountered eleven’s tweets, I thought I’d finally found someone who could balance real world political concerns while keeping an eye aimed at the high weirdness that comes with an interest in esotericism. spinning false flag attacks and psyops as instantiations of black magic meant to bewitch the masses into subservience? based. you go, girl. right there with you; fuck Michael Aquino, all my homies hate Michael Aquino. even cooler? conceiving of the fractured (“schizzed”?) media landscape as a deliberate effort to parcel people out into something akin to Alternate Reality Games, with reference to papers that argue ARGs are highly useful, if of questionable morality, for studying the behavioral effects of manipulated variables in a given environment. any content served to you by what’s colloquially known as “the algorithm” should be treated as highly suspect, even if you don’t believe there are sleeper agents awaiting activation via an MKUltra trigger.

then I got a little freaked out because she tweeted some things about graphene and about DoD officials writing papers on the efficacy of employing graphene for biosurveillance, not at a distance a la the NSA, but from within, via injected nanotechnologies; that, in fact, this graphene material is of interest to DARPA for its potential to facilitate neural interaction with machines, fulfilling the wildest wet dreams of the transhumanists and vindicating years of tinfoil hat hair.

it is difficult to immerse ones thinking in the paranoid imaginary without occasionally being struck by The Fear; there was a week or so a while back where I was basically convinced the Mandela effect was an operant means of psychological control, and that reality is even more malleable than I sometimes optimistically believe it to be. now, so as to not become insane, I don’t think about it so much.

but on this graphene-in-the-vaccines thing, a little more digging suggests that there’s not much reliable biological application of graphene technology as it is currently understood–if you trust Wikipedia, that is, and Wikipedia is a perfectly acceptable resource for many things, a gift unto humanity so far as the democratization of general knowledge is concerned. but Wikipedia is also notorious for downplaying what are understood to be actual, historically verifiable conspiracies: don’t read Wikipedia if you want to know anything worth knowing about 9/11, JFK, Franklin Credit, OKBOMB, etc. so, but, like, what eleven is suggesting w/r/t graphene is ultimately a more “studied” elaboration of the same old vaccine paranoia, that the NWO is chipping everyone with receivers so that HAARP antennae can maintain a docile population via electromagnetic frequency modulation. which, like, if that’s possible, I really don’t think any of your posting means anything, girl, so you might as well go outside, get laid, eat shrooms, and enjoy whatever version of the Simulation They’re broadcasting to you or whatever.

the day after writing the above, eleven posted a thread theorizing that, because smiling “evolved” from an expression of fear and submission in primates (literally a line from the Office’s Dwight Schrute, and also unscientific), the proliferation of open-mouth smiles and hearty laughter in artistic depictions, previously reserved for images of the insane or dimwitted, is evidence of a ruling class psyop to inculcate an instinct for compliance among the plebeians, and it’s like, have you ever met a smiling baby? this is just an reactionary argument for puritanical decorum via restraint on natural exuberance. which, and I don’t often like tipping my hand so clearly, is something I am firmly opposed to.

Unconscious Abyss ∞🔮 (@UnconsciousAby)

my apologies; I wrote all this before Aby went private.

it’s hard to take seriously anyone suggesting an ancient occult conspiracy undergirding all of society, which is recognizable by its symbols, if the person’s response to this problem is to primarily post Twitter threads about it. it’s like, homie, I don’t necessarily disagree with you, but I can’t imagine They would let you chase online clout if you’re anywhere near giving up Their game.

of course, whatever exactly Their game is, it’s hard to parse from the things Unconscious Abyss posts. they obviously have a wide range of occult/alchemical knowledge and I do not doubt the rigor of their studies, but a lot of these tweets are like, uncontextualized quotes, or like four suggestively similar images quoted tweeted with another four suggestive images, all without referent to any overarching thesis or argument (or even an explanation). are alchemists based, or are they cringe, Lord Abyss? because if they’re cringe, you seem to be exceptionally familiar with their esoteric symbolism, so why should anyone trust what you have to say about it all? if everything is part of some grand, global process of occult initiation, wherein news stories and historical events are ritual enactments of manipulation, what makes you think finding coincidences in names and shapes isn’t merely They’re way of throwing you off the trail? plus, it’s not like the Atlanteans invented the color green, so to presume metaphysical ratfuckery on the basis that two things happen to be green is just naive epistemology–superstition.

on the other hand, it is true that the Enlightenment and its consequences are extensions of western occult principles: Isaac Newton spent much of his time studying not physics but alchemy, the chemical structure of petroleum was arrived at after August Kekulé had a vision of the Ouroboros, and the alchemist’s dream of material transubstantiation is now matched by the technical abilities of modern science. if the contemporary world isn’t a result of a Freemasonic plot to install a global world order conducive to the accumulation of power by an elite cabal of sorcerers, then it sure looks like one if you squint hard enough.

[w/r/t a Department of Energy official]: quarked up white boy with a little bit of clearance blasts it down nuclear style.. is he DOE-ted with the sauce?

[w/r/t the anime girl in the “chill lofi beats to study/relax to” YouTube channel]: quirked up lofi girl with a little bit of chill studies hard relaxual style.. is she beated with the sauce?

[w/r/t the Try Guy cheating “scandal”]: quirked up Try Guy with a little bit of clout loses it all infidelity style.. is he Fullered with the sauce?

[w/r/t Don DeLillo’s classic White Noise]: quirked up White Noise with the Most Photographed Barn studies Hitler airborne toxic style.. is it DeLillo’d with the sauce?

[w/r/t Bob Odenkirk being shamed for following a foot fetish Instagram account]: Odenkirk’d up white boy with a little bit of ‘gram kicks it down fetish style.. is he footed with the socks?

a friend of mine shared a quote, from Cioran I later learned, that has since hung around my mind like a pall of smoke:

To have devoted to the idea of death all the hours which any vocation demands. . . Metaphysical outbursts are the attribute of monks, debauchees and bums. A job would have turned Buddha into a mere malcontent.

upon first reading this, a taunting voice arose from within and hissed “that’s you, a mere malcontent. what hope do you have for beauty if you actively wish for 40 hours each week to pass as quickly as possible? where else does this lead but the grave?”

some people go through life only barely aware that another way is possible, ostensibly happy to work for wages that can be then used for acquiring things, with their little remaining free time reserved for mindless distraction. others are so at odds with the demands of the machine as to reject and be rejected by it, and are therefor cast out into psychosis, criminality, and/or death. the dream, the ideal, is to slip between the mechanisms and find a path for remaining human, without critical (ie fatal) sacrifice.

then there’s what I do: imagine myself as strident or eccentric despite leading an extremely safe life perfectly in accord with society’s unjustified demands.

I have no desire for glory or fame; I might argue that the present historical moment suffers from a devaluing of glory, but it is not in my nature to be a Napoleon or a Lenin. I also believe that acceptance of one’s mundane existence is a step on the road to [REDACTED], and that the present historical moment suffers from an excess of people who believe they’re special, that is, outside humanity and beyond the reaches of death.

I do not wish to be God, nor do I wish to be Caesar. I only wish to have the courage of Cioran’s monk/debauchee/bum. but unfortunately I am a coward, full of regret.

this weekend my brother is getting married. I’m officiating.

I regret not being closer with my brother.

I regret that my family is only a source of pain for me.

I regret being the son of a fascist federale.

I regret that my mom has never been well.

I regret wishing this week would be over and done with.

I regret every time I did not speak my mind for the sake of politeness.

I regret allowing people I disagree with to think otherwise.

I regret preserving illusions.

I regret not making more dumb mistakes in my 20s.

I regret not cultivating broader curiosity about the people around me.

I regret being irritated when a stranger tries to make small talk.

I regret my passivity.

I regret my desire to appear “put together.”

I regret closely guarding my exuberance and my clownishness.

I regret every day I spend anxiously clicking around the internet to waste time at work.

the friend who posted the Cioran assures that “It’s never too late to change tho.” we shall find out.

when everything’s up in the air it’s difficult to find solid ground to work from. the 15th we got keys (well, technically the 13th) to our new house, which is up on the hill and has a breathtaking view of the city and ocean. but I’m mostly out of breath from schlepping boxes up and down stairs and driving them the two blocks between my old and new places. it doesn’t look like I will have finished the story I wanted to submit during September submission periods, but publication is merely an ordeal to be borne once the actual activity of art is completed, so now merely is not the time. once life is settled into routine I can resume the work of derangement via writing.

listening to a lot of recordings of Terence McKenna talks while packing. I’m someone who before this rather enjoyed McKenna’s thought as a kind of curio, but the more I listen to him talk, the more I’m impressed with his rigor, range, and gumption. the way he explains how the world corporate state/neoliberalism works not only disavowed me of the idea that he isn’t a totally serious thinker, at least politically, but it basically summarized it all better than I’ve ever heard anyone put it, including explicitly leftist intellectuals like Michael Parenti. despite the more harebrained of his ideas generally serving as his calling cards (stoned ape theory, Timewave Zero, etc.), McKenna is an exceptionally lucid and critical thinker who is among a group of maybe four public intellectuals in recent memory whom I still hold in high esteem: David Graeber, Mike Davis, and I guess Charles Bowden, but Bowden is more journalist/writer than intellectual. once I have more time I want to devote it to writing about literally whatever the fuck I find interesting here the way McKenna seems able to discuss basically any topic that comes his way. enough of these little update posts, I want to write multiple-thousand-word essays about quantum theory, alchemy, shamanism, Buddhism, Gnosticism, literary history, drugs, paranoia, apocalypse, aesthetic theory, technology, whatever. I also want to do the s*****s and a**d that are in my fridge, and, ideally, track down some D*T to sm*ke.

currently I’m rereading Dubliners for the first time in years, so maybe Joyce is a decent place to start wrt longer-form blogging. I need practice using way more words than are strictly speaking necessary: my tendency towards concision is a good one, but it should serve to temper a predilection for babbling, which I tamp down for fear of being obnoxious. from now on I want to risk being obnoxious.

alright that’s enough earnestness from me today.