the book of tells


The scent of the senescent Valerian is wild…

…even in ridicule and criticism they need you … they asked for YOU… you are a product of them… but just like the table rappers you hear calling, they are really YOU all along. You came here as much as you were brought here.

..old friends in old flats, old memories in old bookcases, collecting dust, trespassing into old rooms where you do not belong, woken from the Dreaming by old flames, doused by old fluids.

Here in the eye of the storm, the Peak of the Season…the non space, non happening, non being.. . the wall, beyond space, known happening, you being … djinn space … where you gave up the Ghost, where you stopped trying…to impress.  Here the Sun reflects the Sun back on itself… a mirror game, cancelling each other out.


The ecosorcerer set up a right angle mirror in which to lose himself, see himself as he really is and then metamorphose into a watcher of a watcher of a disappearing act.

You thought nothing was going on? It’s all profiling, signatures, hidden evidence of the Supernatural in the Natural, which is really an uncaged, unrestricted vision … a freedom from enslavement to our technology.


You need to be taken in hand. Before you give yourself away.

Translating CLICHES through linguistic and psychological forensics, like alt occult codes, layman’s NLP, a book of Tells, revealing hidden, obscured magix of Greater Plays.

The lull in the storm of the two facing Suns is not Ramon Llull, the time of Memory, this time the apparition, the visitation, the semblance, is Jacques Ellul, from the library of FC.

“You still have the creative power to determine how your own Creations will recreate you.”

The Monster is creating Frankenstein. Man is creating his own gods. Mirroring Suns.



















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