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Saturday, November 10th, 2007
7:24 am


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Tuesday, November 1st, 2005
1:36 pm - Luciferian Gnosis


The first edition of "Luciferian Gnosis" has been released by
Knights of Mendez publications. It's written by Andre Pierce, Umbra Ingredior,
Jen Choyke, Randall Pike. This  first edition is only available for a limited time, so I decided to make it available for Halloween.

It can be found here:


Or here:


Happy Buying!

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Sunday, April 10th, 2005
2:27 am - work in progress II

in on the dead sights and steaming. no clock is burning out in on no time. pistols as hands blazing. picking it up and setting it down. no time is now manifest and blazing. grip is obsolete on shiny surface.

an egg cracks open to reveal it's treasure. but it is black and only produces ash.

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Saturday, April 9th, 2005
1:22 am - work in progress

under pretense of maps of false existance
i drop the image of direction into flame
under vision and under fever you tell me
one of these actions is both the same.......

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Friday, November 12th, 2004
12:05 am - <<-- This is the Symbol -->>

Just figured out how to show you all the "symbol"...
I have just quickly re-created it through Paintshop Pro and made it my Profile pic for this post. This is exactly how the marks appeared.

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Thursday, November 11th, 2004
10:09 pm - A Physical Manifestation - AGAIN.

I had been resisting what eventually came all day. The channeling that I did not wish to participate in. I had been kaleidoscoping all day and the visions came even when aware.

So, as the nosebleeds began later in the night, and towards early morning – I decided to get it over and done with as I had felt that this time was going to be another profound one. I was talking to “M” when it hit with full force.

I do not remember much from that, except that I have yet another physical manifestation from this and that I indeed lost a lot of blood. I will, as I am hoping that “M” may have kept a log of our “chat”. What usually happens is that I automatic type when at the keyboard – this has happened before, so I only presume that it happened again last night.

I have no real recollection of what happened, but with the severity of the nosebleed, it must have been a doozy, with the severity of the blood I spat out, I must have spoken in tongue, and with the physical manifestation the experience must have been past life.

The physical manifestations that I experienced with this most recent episode look to be more permanent scarring to the physical shell of my body. I have contacted someone that I know who is a psychotherapist in the hope that he may be able to assist me in some small way. These ‘gifts” are, as I have always revered them, “curses” – and with each consecutive trance – they are becoming more prominent.

Today I had to go out and specifically buy an accessory to cope with this in a way that as I mixed among many “classes” of people – I do not wish to have to explain what I am, or what I experience. It is hard enough at times to cope myself – without any counsel; it feels that I am losing my mind. I have tried to understand – to no avail. I have tried researching these “gifts” – but none are as intricately detailed. The only thing that I can see of to do is that of to fully accept and surrender to these “gifts”, but as a mere human – I sometimes do wonder where / how I will end up!

I have been told by many people, elders within a myriad of alternative cultures, practices and traditions, that what I describe to them are individually unique and rare – but simultaneously possessing both is actually rarely heard of. But I am also told that this is especially so with the incorporation that I too am a Shadow-Walker. The combination of all three, so they tell me – is a very “dangerous” combination – both for me and for the purposes/people I use them with or on.

Sometimes a freak in nature is something that always has its purpose – but in this case – I am not sure, maybe too “emotionally attached to a physical shell” – as I am yet to locate the true calling of this deadly combination.

I have, although, incorporated them into past workings with great success. Doing work for others around the world and then collaborating with them to source the outcome of my workings. At first I was surprised that I have a high success rate – with 98% accuracy in my past workings. Now – it means more than just the satisfaction of accurate workings, as it now also includes that of physical change – emotional alteration – spiritual empowerment (but at the same time – spiritual disarmament).

Will keep updating from now on – as I will take yet more photos of the last outcome… Which will be a private journal entry – sorry guys!

current mood: indescribable

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Wednesday, November 10th, 2004
12:34 am - Brief Update

It has been quite a while since I last updated my journal and the cause of this, that has been in focus for sometime now, has seen much time and enormous amounts of energies invested, that which I will not go into detail here.

I am still being employed by others to do their “bidding/work” for them – seeing great amounts of work within the metaphysical natures of this mundane world accomplished. Workings/Biddings ranging from simplified healings to more elaborate invocations, and the crossing of realms.

There have been discussions within the circles that I endure about various theories revolving around some esoteric practices of some specific nature (while others totally mind-numbing and for ever-circling), and it is that which I partake not, but I do pleasure myself in that, that what comes out of these discussions, which are based on those philosophical notions of others – both professional and lay.

With my researches into alternative cultures and pantheons growing, and to which those I am taken to daily, there have been personal findings to dispute at least one or two on collaborative levels. With, each cultural exponents being most intriguing and most similar in both practice and indeed nature. To utilize such information, and to understand them, even only partially – the “wisdom” gained through these are to be revered in such a way that only one could not imagine, and to further incorporate into ones own practices are, to say the least, most humbling.

More physical manifestations have been experienced, with each consecutive working, these I find, are becoming more intrinsic to each individual working. This has become no surprise, but the manifestations are beginning to see a newer, more heightened level. I too, myself have experienced a more heightened appreciation of both my gifts (to which I sometimes revere as curses), and of my growing understanding of greater aspects of them and my own personal practices.

Visions have been paramount within the past few weeks – more than usual, more vivid than ever before. I have been caught in other forms also. In the greater past, I was caught by another within the abode, shape-shifting (which unnerved the guest, but fortunately he was also an arcane so they knew not to disturb the process). Although the guest did mention that they had wished they had their digital camera handy to take a photo, as the sight was apparently awesome to behold. Unfortunately I have no recollection of this particular incident, only that I had lost some 2 hours and “awoke” most disorientated. And now these occurrences are becoming more frequent – but now with a greater understanding of alternative practices and I now gaining more control over the results, and indeed the outcomes, to the degree where I have been able to master the spontaneity if I so wish.

It was also a few weeks back now that I attended an unusual gathering of folk and it was pleasant to see others of like also attending. There was one there that I “read” only briefly and one that had components of that interested me. So, being as I am, I initiated a little experiment so to speak – an experiment of an unseen nature and one that was easily manipulated within an alert crowd, but one that was inconspicuous to any who were un-adept. This little “experiment” one for one particular person, and one that has seen it manifest quite successfully – one that I have now undone – and I am quite sure that the “recipient” was well unaware of this occurrence. These miniscule pleasures are of a mundane nature, but ones that exercises one metaphysical muscles from time to time.

Another instance just this week – saw me approached by another asking my permission and then my thoughts on creating/building a Church of Satan in the Metro area… This amused me to orgasm, almost literally. Taking extemporaneous delight in seeing their facial expression when I informed them of my current training level and whom it is with… “Priceless”…

So it has been rather an eventful past few weeks and I am certain that things will not slow down, oh! contrare, but I will take the much needed “timeout” to partake with updating journal more often.

current mood: mundane

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Sunday, September 12th, 2004
11:24 pm - Copycat Copycat Experiment.

I want anyone and EVERYONE who reads this to post in here something they would like to do with me someday.
Then post this in your journal (or don't, if you truly detest these memes) to find out what people want to do with you.

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Wednesday, July 28th, 2004
5:19 am - Media In Doctor Nation

This is an essay I'm working on in a series of essays... So it may make references to previous or future "chapters" which obviously aren't included. This is still very much "in progress" so (constructive, please) input and criticism is welcome.

For more go here:

Cultural Sustainability I: Media & Cultural Programming: Introduction.

Media, backed by a socially legitimized, centralized currency, is our modern method of cultural indoctrination. It can even serve as a form of leverage through which we can spread culture without ever bothering to send military force. It is only in areas that we cannot leverage through financial or media-indoctrination pressure that we must resort to military occupation. The motivating factor here is of course primarily corporate and financial.

Read more...Collapse )

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Friday, July 23rd, 2004
6:11 pm - Art Ritual

Essay on the basic theory of ritual, magick, etc.

Read more...Collapse )

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Sunday, March 14th, 2004
8:13 pm - For those that love Lovecraft

:x Ia?

those not At The Mountains of Madness

Guillermo del Toro, of Hellboy/Blade 2, is making it a movie:) It seems...I wonder...hope...please? *whimpers* I keep seeing bits of this all over, I was inspired a long while ago to keep track of maybe movies on the lovecraft writtings list. After seeing such things as "The Dunwich Horror", "Dagon", "From Beyond", "Necronomicon", "Re-animator", the true horror writer imo, of true horror genre. I liek most adaptations, esp european indie type tries. I just wonder if this will be liek cthulhu cult classic type material.

O found more info on it I did:Guillermo Deltoro God lovecraft I love you:X:D

Anyone? Who loves squids, and zombies? *raises an eyebrow* I bet quite a few. *smirk*

o, and tonight at 9pm on scifi "Dagon". heh not uncut but eh, it's cthulhu.

current mood: curious

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Saturday, February 28th, 2004
6:18 pm - Suicidal Suzi


A first view at my upcoming comicbook Suicidal Suzi. Created in flash.

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Monday, January 12th, 2004
6:57 pm - MALDOROR (X-Post)

Cinema Apocalypse
proudly presents

Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Doors 7pm, Showtime 8pm
Tix $7 BLB Info: 612-825-8949

Bryant-Lake Bowl
810 West Lake St.
Minneapolis, MN


"...has a demented integrity"
The Village Voice,
New York

"one of the strangest films to come out of Britain in years."
The Guardian

"...this is true underground cinema."
Fortean Times

A feature film in twelve Super 8mm episodes made by and starring the no-torious no-bility of UNDERGROUND CINEMA • Kerri Sharp • Filmgruppe Abgedreht • Duncan Reekie • Caroline Kennedy • Colette Rouhier • Filmgruppe Chaos • Steven Eastwood • Jenigerfilm • Andrew Coram • Hant Film • Paul Tarrago • Jennet Thomas • German voice over Feridun Zaimoglu • English Voice over Duncan Reekie • Based on the novel by Isidore Ducasse a.k.a. the Comte de Lautreamont translated by Alexis Lykiard • Idea and Co-ordination by Duncan Reekie and Karsten Weber • 16mm post-production supported by Kulturelle Filmforderung Schleswig-Holstein e.V. For more information contact Maldaura at maldoror@spc.org


Maldoror whose lips are sulphur, whose eyes are jasper, is stranded on Earth amongst the humanity he hates. His dark shadow haunts the day. At night he is pursued by phantoms and the memory of his unspeakable crimes. He searches the darkest secret corners of the world for revenge, for rest, for a companion. But he only ever finds horror, death and an endless battle against his arch enemy God and his loathsome Son. After an encounter with a festering angel, an amorous shark, a divine pubic hair and a dog on wheels, Maldoror embarks upon a course that leads inevitably to the final apocalyptic clash with the Creator himself !


In 1998 Duncan Reekie of the London Exploding Cinema Collective and Karsten Weber of the German Filmmgruppe Chaos got together and decided to make a Super 8 feature film of the infamous novel by Lautreamont. They selected around fifteen underground filmmakers/film groups from England and Germany and sent each one a chapter from the book and an invitation to make a film out of their chapter. Each maker could use different techniques, styles, actors and locations but there would be a voice over narration by one narrator over the entire feature.

There was no budget for the production, the filmmakers had to put up their own money, although Karsten managed to raise some post- production finance. The makers dug out their cameras, blackmailed their friends and relatives into assistance and began to shoot. Some of them studied the novel, some of them read their chapter once through and then immediately lost it. Film came back overexposed , underexposed, out of focus, friends split up, equipment broke down, an irreplaceable roll of film disappeared. Three filmmakers dropped out. Two years later the surviving twelve emerged bleary eyed from darkened attics and smoke filled cupboards with edited films which were then enlarged to 16mm and assembled into the feature length film.


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Wednesday, January 7th, 2004
3:46 am

Hermann Hollerith, the World's First Statistical Engineer
invented a device that revolutionized data collection for years to come. It was a tabulation machine designed to calculate the 1890 census. He became rich overnight. With his invention Hollerith allowed for the creation of one of the most dominant corporations of the computer age and secured his place in history as the father of information processing.

But there was a dark side to his life. On the night of November 14, 1896 his son, Sherman Hollerith went missing.
He had been playing hide and seek with some of the boys and never returned. It was getting cold fast. The men of the house hold split up to search the grounds but to no avail. Herman desperately ran through the woods screaming out Sherman’s name, but the wind was too loud, it seemed that it was malevolently stifling his only chance to find his beloved son. Finally he collapsed in a heap, whispering Sherman over and over. He was discovered by their other son, Tad. That night a snow storm hit.Mrs Hollerith was distraught. Days went by, and each one of them brought more snow and fiercer winds.Herrman hired the best detectives, still nothing, not even a foot print. The disappearance was highly publicized. The Buffalo Herald snapped a picture of the couple, their faces looking aged beyond their years. The police ruled that it was most likely a kidnapping. Missing signs were tacked up all over the state. Weeks went by. With no leads, the law had done all they could do. Soon the Sherman Holleriths disappearance was forgotten about. The Hollerith’s marriage was ripping apart at the seams. Mrs. Hollerith would spend hours locked in her bed room crying. Hermann spent more time at the business as usual, sometimes sleeping on a cot in his office. They rarely ever talked. When the snow cleared subsequent searches took place all over the Hollerith estate. Still nothing. More silence in the couple. 2 years passed. Tad moved away to college. Each day was more agonizing than the last. Hermann blamed himself. He tried to think positive. But as time passed it was hard. Mrs. Hollerith slowly withered away, spending more and more time locked in her despair. Hermann attended church a few times, even taking communion, but he felt nothing. All he could think about is why? Why did my precious child disappear? Why isn’t there a shred of evidence?
There were no answers. He stopped praying. He could no longer talk to a god that would let this darkness into his life.
They walked around like zombies rarely speaking. They ate meals and sat in the parlor silently. Mrs. Hollerith went through the motions of a few basic chores and Hermann spent even more time at the office. Often he would sit in his giant chair facing the window, looking out over the woods and crying silently. The employees knew if his chair was turned around, he was not to be disturbed. One cold day Mrs. Hollerith found a large skeleton key while cleaning the desk drawers. She wondered what it could be to, suddenly she remembered. It belonged to the large trunk in the attic, the one that was a wedding present from her parents. She couldn’t remember what she had put in it. Opening the upstairs door, she took a lantern from the hook and ascended the gray stair case to the attic. Curiosity compelled her for she couldn’t remember what the trunk contained. She turned the key and opened it, only to discover Sherman’s shriveled skeleton inside. She ran from the house screaming. When Hermann returned he found her shrieking, collapsed in the garden. She kept babbling something about Sherman and the attic. Herman raced up the stairs and made the hideous discovery for himself. He cried out and collapsed to his knees. When the police arrived he wouldn’t leave, wailing, he clutched the skeleton close to his chest, rocking back and forth singing "you are my sunshine" Finally he passed out from exhaustion. Tad, now 22 took care of the burial. On February 15th 1899 they laid Sherman’s remains in the frozen ground. Soon after Mrs. Hollerith stopped eating, and eventually drinking. Hermann sat by her bed day and night sobbing, begging her to talk to him and to please eat something. But she was too far gone. Her eyes became glazed over. Doctors could do nothing. She simply did not have to will to go on. On the rainy night of April 6th, while laying in Hermans arms she gave up her ghost. Her body was laid to rest beside Sherman’s.
The hallucinations, and nightmares returned in full force, as did the insomnia, crawling under bed with a blanket his wife made for him on his 35th birthday, window watching, one night he dreams of the time he took the kids to the carnival and how Sherman squealed with glee as he rode the carousel. Herman had let him sit on his shoulders as they walked around to make him feel tall. He bought him a mint ice cream cone (Sherman’s favorite) and he helped him finish it. "Daddy, I love you" said Sherman “oh shermy, I love you too" Hermann chuckled "your my number one son" suddenly he woke up in his empty cold room with the taste of mint in his mouth "no." he whispered. "no." and clutches the pillow tight,
Hollerith Industries gets bought out, Hermann once president, is demoted. He is now a partner and looses his patent. He is passive and can care less. He is given a smaller office, this one without a window, he puts a picture of the woods on the wall behinds his desk and stares at that. He becomes a ghost the employees seldom bother him, his job is pointless, he is kept around only because he invented the machine. His income gradually disappears. He is forced to move out of the mansion. the night before he leaves he gets drunk and goes into Sherman’s room, everything still intact and sleeps on the floor in the darkness, crying himself to sleep He gets a crappy tenement apartment on the bad side of town, group talks to him and gives him Gideon bible. He opens it, remembering his religious days, but gets suddenly disgusted and he throws it out the window, watching it disappear into the night. Sits in his wife beater and underwear in the dark, more hallucinations, dreams, nightmares, he is afraid to sleep.insomnia.dispondent. Rarely drags himself to his responsibilities, rarely at the office, when he is, facing the wall, no one minds, they just walk by. He is left with only enough to pay his rent. Tad visits and begs his dad to come live with him. Herman doesn’t want to be a burden. Before tad leaves he hugs him long and tears fall from his cheeks." im just so tired tad, im just so. Tired" he sighed
On one idle, rainy Tuesday in September he dragged himself to the bank, ate a corned beef and swiss at the lunch counter then headed to the office. That night, after everyone had left for the three day weekend, he scribbled out a note on his desk, turned his chair toward his "window" and shot himself with a snub nose revolver that he had always owned, but never fired. On Monday the employees returned, and in their business they walked back and forth past Herman’s open office door and never noticed a thing. They just assumed he was not to be disturbed. This went on for 2 days until the office janitor discovered his lifeless body, slumped in the chair. He took a glance at the note on the desk and it read: Dearest Tad, I leave you all thats left

tad wakes up in a nursing home, watches the sunset through his window

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3:43 am - what does the future hold?

in 100 years there will be no more trees. there will be a walmart with a mc donalds in every country of the world. there will be no where in the entire united states besides alaska where you could be more than 50 miles near a wall mart. Massive pre-fab subdivisions will envelop the land. Think of Indian heights X 10.Drug and alcohol abuse enslave record numbers of people.Cities will merge and become super cities, the downtown areas maintained by various corporate agencies and the surrounding outskirts are ran down residential nightmares. crime will infest the streets, poverty and unemployment skyrocket and poor education and mind numbing advertising are blamed for the continuation of the crisis. over 80 percent of the american population will be chronicly obsese. real fruits and vegetables are no longer available, in fact there are few farms still in opperation. Teachers will become more and more less qualified in their jobs due to pay, and the test scores give creedence. people spend all their off work hours using various forms of technology to entertain themselves. Television will be a fast moving melange of celebrity endorsements, award shows, shity sit coms and pointless dramas.retarded reality shows continue to infest the airwaves. there will be longer and longer comercial breaks as the years progress, eventually making them longer than the actual show. the first cyborg president will be elected. Our brand of democracy and capitalism will have infested all developing countries. the media has once again gone yellow and sensationalizes stories for ratings, news junkies sit in fear. libraries fall to ruin due to the internet. video game companies climb to the top of the market with the increasing quality of graphics and the advent of virtual reality.
People will not talk much to eachother. there will be an increase in automobile accidents. While the nation suffers through a continued depression, warmongers travel around the world waging war on those who plot insurgent attacks on the united states. even within our own country these politicians and generals seek out rebellions and snuff them. more waco like situations occur. many of these wars are reported like a game show on primetime television. the tv viewing public is exposed to an increasing amount of sex and violence in programing and these begins to numb the US societys attitudues about the subjects. the amount of murders, rapes, and abuse increases.health care looses funding and good doctors, many people perish from outbreaks of new, stronger strains of disease. Many men stand up and become religious leaders, creating their own cults and luring innocent people into clutches only to milk them for their money. they preach that this is the end times everthing is based around the worship of material possesion. junk piles up in american garages. the internet creates a whole race of people who cannot react with the outside world. pollution standards for factories are removed and the massive corporations dumb newer, deadlier forms of toxic waste into whats left of the natural enviroment. 1000s of species die out. many scientific institutions go to work for corporations or their funding is cut by a government already in serious debt, a deficit larger than its everbeen. trash will cover the sides of the streets and fields, as we have run out of room for it. eventually all trash is taken and dumped in the ocean. there will be cyborgs and other genetic experiments in the fusion of biology and electric technology.people will be grown and processed in special factories. these "lower beings" will be used as slaves. It becomes a fad to own a clone. many of the easiest activities become automated. "why work when you dont have to?" asks a comercial.we get almost all of our food, fosil fuels and other natural resources from other countries due to the fact that we have run out. much of our time is spent masturbating our egos and numbing our brains to how much weve ruined this planet. where will we go when we use up the ground? the sky i suppose. floating cities are a posibility. after we pollute the atmosphere we'll branch out into space, on ward and outward to invade new frontiers of depravity.

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Monday, December 22nd, 2003
7:04 am - order and chaos and gnosis...

(x-posted to dragonguyver, abstractthought, blasphemers, challenging_god, neurocromicon, philosophy, question, the_different, the_matrix, thought_club, timespinning, twisted_reality, ufosandaliens, weirdness)

This is a little frantic, so try to keep up with me.

I was reading www.enemies.com, when something in the article I was reading reminded me of what I read recently about the second law of thermodynamics being refuted on the subatomic scale.

Hyperspace says that the other six dimensions are tightly compacted into miniscule subatomic sizes.

Furthermore, it is conjectured that the big bang and the creation of the universe as we know it was created when the perfect balanced ten dimensional existence collapsed, and the first four dimensions exploded outward and the other six collapsed inward.

This is still occurring. Our universe is still expanding, time still moves forward. And to counterbalance, the other six dimensions must still be contracting.

So in these four dimensions, order leads to chaos. entropy. This is where Yaldabaoth reigns.

But in those other six dimensions, it is moving toward a more ordered state, because they are contracting.

... just thoughts. concepts that occurred to me. Any input? Aside from "wtf? you're stupid!" comments, please....

refer to ---> http://www.enemies.com/html/oldtestament/2/demiurge.html

The birth of the Demiurge can be taken as a metaphor for the emergence of entropy. According to the second law of thermodynamics, the overall disorder of any given system will always increase over time as the system seeks equilibrium - thus, meat rots, rocks roll downhill and machines wear out.

When the Big Bang introduced space, time and matter into existence, our infant universe - which was, at least for moment, a trillion times smaller and denser than the head of a pin - was also quite orderly. Nothing to do and nowhere to go - nothing existed but photons, or light particles.

This primitive state of order was only temporary, however; almost instantly, the universe exploded outwards, spawning billions and billions of suns, solar systems and even entire galaxies as it expanded and cooled.

so clearly if it was very tiny and ordered at the beginning, and is becoming more chaotic due to expansion, if those other six dimensions are contracting... does this make sense to anyone???

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Thursday, April 10th, 2003
10:01 am - .widow.

Soaring faster into the first day of the last day of us together as us together...feeling both indifferent and sympathetic because even though we've waited forever for this moment, we didn't expect it to come so soon...and now that it's here, we are left speechless when once we both reveled in the fact that we could out do anything either one of us could say to one another...so yes, we sit...wanting to hate...needing to get out and be free...but now we can't...suddenly...we start thinking about how it was when we first got together...we were always together...reading...walking...fucking...in rhythm...always in rhythm...we really didn't need to be around anyone else...we live, loved, breathed through and for one another...and as I was sitting there staring at you...you looking puzzled...dazzling...hideous...luscious...I started to think of how my life would really be without you...because up to this point, even though we are technically no longer together...a couple...we see one another all the time...we find stupid reasons to hang out...we aren't friends...I don't think we ever really were friends...just two lonely desperate people...co-dependant...alone...but what would my day be like not talking to you...not seeing you...you know after a year or so of consistency, it's hard to break the habit of you...I imagine you would probably feel the same of me...or maybe that's being a bit high on myself thinking that I am held in such high regard in your life...but who knows, right? since you haven't really talked to me in about six months...drifting you say...miscommunication you say...one sided you say...distant you say...no love...I never said I didn't love you...I never said I did love you either I guess...but that didn't mean that there was no love...it just meant that I wasn't strong enough to say it...until...well anyway, we are here sitting next to one another on this nasty cum ridden couch...god I hate this couch...so I suggest we move to the floor...you clutching your amaretto sour and me and my whiskey and coke move to the floor...damn I am dying to touch you...because I know this will honestly be the last time I will get the chance...because of the alcohol...and because we're so close...sitting close...that it seemed like the natural thing to do...I don't think it's out of boredom...but...yeah were was I...oh...I look at you and ask "how come?" - you stare at me...it's a nervous and uncomfortable stare and you begin to cry..."because I love you and you don't love me" - dammit, that fucking word again...I do...just don't make me say it..."come on please don't...you know what that does to me...please don't"...stroke your cheek wipe the tear...toast you as I pour us both another...me running out of coke so I take it straight; that word always made me laugh..."you never told me I was beautiful...not once" yeah I did...almost once...forgive me and my cowardliness..."come on...it'll be ok...I promise"

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Thursday, February 13th, 2003
1:24 am - hello

I'm thrilled to see so much activity on this LJ. I've put this together of my own stuff, please check it out if you are so inclined!

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Wednesday, January 29th, 2003
11:59 pm - From now on, I will live on cigarettes and black coffee.

An oldie... i first came upon this about seven years ago.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook
by Marty Smith.
From The Free Agent, March 1987 (a Portland, Oregon alternative newspaper).


We have recently been lucky enough to discover several previously lost diaries of French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre stuck in between the cushions of our office sofa. These diaries reveal a young Sartre obsessed not with the void, but with food. Aparently Sartre, before discovering philosophy, had hoped to write "a cookbook that will put to rest all notions of flavor forever.'' The diaries are excerpted here for your perusal.

October 3

Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has never actually eaten, he gave me much encouragement. I rushed home immediately to begin work. How excited I am! I have begun my formula for a Denver omelet.

October 4
Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling blocks. I keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone. I want to create an omelet that expresses the meaninglessness of existence, and instead they taste like cheese. I look at them on the plate, but they do not look back. Tried eating them with the lights off. It did not help. Malraux suggested paprika.

October 6
I have realized that the traditional omelet form (eggs and cheese) is bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of a cigarette, some coffee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who puked. I am encouraged, but my journey is still long.

October 7
Today I agian modified my omelet recipe. While my previous attempts had expressed my own bitterness, they communicated only illness to the eater. In an attempt to reach the bourgeoisie, I taped two fried eggs over my eyes and walked the streets of Paris for an hour. I ran into Camus at the Select. He called me a "pathetic dork" and told me to "go home and wash my face." Angered, I poured a bowl of bouillabaisse into his lap. He became enraged, and, seizing a straw wrapped in paper, tore off one end of the wrapper and blew through the straw. propelleing the wrapper into my eye. "Ow! You dick!" I cried. I leaped up, cursing and holding my eye, and fled.

October 10
I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations of traditional dishes, in an effort to somehow express the void I feel so acutely. Today I tried this recipe:

Tuna Casserole
Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish
Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light.
While a void is expressed in this recipe, I am struck by its inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle. How can the eater recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not some other dish? I am becoming more and more frustated.

October 12
My eye has become inflamed. I hate Camus.

October 25
I have been forced to abandon the project of producing an entire cookbook. Rather, I now seek a single recipe which will, by itself, embody the plight of man in a world ruled by an unfeeling God, as well as providing the eater with at least one ingredient from each of the four basic food groups. To this end, I purchased six hundred pounds of foodstuffs from the corner grocery and locked myself in the kitchen, refusing to admit anyone. After several weeks of work, I produced a recipe calling for two eggs, half a cup of flour, four tons of beef, and a leek. While this is a start, I am afraid I still have much work ahead.

November 15
I feel that I may be very close to a great breakthrough. I had been creating meal after meal, but none seemed to express the futility of existence any better than would ordering a pizza. I left the house this morning in a most depressed state, and wandered aimlessly through the streets. Suddenly, it was aif the heavens had opened. My brain was electrified with an influx of new ideas. "Juice, toast, milk.." I muttered aloud. I realized with a start that I was one ingredient away from creating the nutritious breakfast. Loathsome, true, but filled with existential authenticity. I rushed home to begin work anew.

November 18
Today I tried yet another variation: Juice, toast, milk and Chee-tos. Again, a dismal failure. I have tried everything. Juice, toast, milk and whiskey, juice, toast, milk and chicken fat, juice, toast, milk and someone else's spit. Nothing helps. I am in agony. Juice, toast, milk, they race about my fevered brain like fire, like an unholy trinity of cruel denial. And the fourth ingredient! What could it be? It eludes me like the lost chord, the Holy Grail. I must see the completion of my task, but I have no more money to spend on food. Perhaps man is not meant to know.

November 21
Camus came into the restaurant today. He did not know I was in the kitchen, and before I sent out his meal I loogied in his soup. Sic semper tyrannis.

November 23
Ran into some opposition at the restaurant. Some of the patrons complained that my breakfast special (a page out of Remembrance of Things Past and a blowtorch with which to set it on fire) did not satisfy their hunger. As if their hunger was of any consequence! "But we're starving," they say. So what? They're going to die eventually anyway. They make me want to puke. I have quit the job. It is stupid for Jean- Paul Sartre to sling hash. I have enough money to continue my work for a little while.

November 24
Last night I had a dream. In it, I am standing, alone, on a beach. A great storm is raging all about me. It begins to rain. Night falls. I am struck by how small and insignificant I am, how the entire race of Man is but a speck in the eye of God, and I am but a speck of humanity. Suddenly, a red Cadillac convertible pulls up beside me, In it are these two beautiful girls named Jojo and Wendy. I get in and the take me to their mansion in Hollywood and give me a pound of cocaine and make mad, passionate love to me for the rest of my life.

November 26
Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the word "cake." I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired it greatly, but could not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the Betty Crocker Bake-Off.

November 30
Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, things did not go as I had hoped. During the judging, the beaver became agitated and bit Betty Crocker on the wrist. The beaver's powerful jaws are capable of felling blue spruce in less than ten minutes and proved, needless to say, more than a match for the tender limbs of America's favorite homemaker. I only got third place. Moreover, I am now the subject of a rather nasty lawsuit. D

December 1
I have been gaining twenty-five pounds a week for two months, and I am now experiencing light tides. It is stupid to be so fat. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic as they were when I was thin, but seem to impress girls far less. From now on, I will live on cigarettes and black coffee.


Sartre died in Paris in 1981. [Note from Spade: He did not. He died on April 15, 1980.] His last word is reputed to have been, simply, "Trix."

Ah, I am feeling so much better. Whoever said existentialists don't have a sense of humor?

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Wednesday, October 30th, 2002
6:31 pm - surreal stop-animation movies

if you liked 'brothers quay' shorts, i would recomend these movies by svankmajer:
faust, conspirators of pleasure, and
little ottik.

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