I have *many* notebooks, paper notebooks, mostly those speckled, thread-bound “Composition Book” notebooks, filled with Eros, Erote, Apollon, Adonis, and related-religious stuff. About one-quarter to one-third of the contents of these notebooks is coherent poetry, some of it is even something that I would consider good (and I’ve turned being my own worst critic into an art). Maybe one-fifth of the content is ritual outlines and/or draft versions of rit that I swear I will polish up, one of these days. Between fifteen and twenty percent are re-written mythos, including draft versions.
The remaining 30-45% of this content?
It’s a mish-mash of half-thoughts, waking dreams, hastily jotted-down “gnosis”-like bits, and so forth. I have a separate dream journal that I have worked out a “system” for, and can totally decipher, if asked to by nosy friends who sometimes go through the books I attempt to hastily conceal under my bed. I’m not talking about my dream journal. Sometimes, I’ll scry or burn bay or get into a quasi-meditative state and wind up jotting down whatever weird shit comes into my head; that’s what I’m talking about. Sometimes, I’ll just be going about my day, maybe I’m in the shower, maybe I’m making my own dinner, and suddenly get a thought that I just somehow “know” has to be logged in this indecipherable system of notebooks (and these notebooks haven’t much in the way of a coherent system), and this thought must get written down, even if I end up dragging soapy water all through the apartment, even if I burn my food, because this is something that has to get logged, no matter how “trivial” (less than two lines), no matter how “crazy” (seemingly unconnected words, speedily drawn flow-charts that suddenly make not one bit of sense two minutes after I jot it down, three-to-ten word phrases repeated for several lines and then stopped with a completely different line written once…); that’s what I’m talking about.
I know that there are people who, upon seeing this stuff, may very well question my sanity. I am well-aware of this. In fact, it is there mere existence of these notebooks, specifically that whole third of them (possibly more) that ends up reading like the literary equivalent of a Genesis P-Orridge sound project or a Yoko Ono experimental film anthology, that I take great offense on certain Hellenic e-mail lists to people misjudge my practise by my tendencies to resort to hard-nosed and often pedantic degrees of logic in threads and claim that “[I’m] not a mystic”. I need these long tirades of logic, reason, and pedantic academia to balance all of the weird shit that bounces around my head throughout my days; I thouroughly believe in this logic, or else it wouldn’t be the logic I use in these threads, but at the same time, I also acknowledge that there are things going on in the “spiritual part of my brain” (for lack of a better descriptive) that I don’t completely understand the mechanics behind. I haven’t had any injuries or prolonged periods of lacking oxygen, nor do I have a sort of seizure disorder that can easily explain these occurrences as a mild degree of brain damage. I have been tested for and lack the typical neurochemical imbalances commonly associated with schizophrenic or schizotypal disorders. In fact, the scans I went through as a teenager seem to indicate that my brain, biologically speaking, is relatively normal. My current knowledge thus suggests to me that these experiences are, to at least some degree, mystical in nature, and I just don’t know how to interpret what any of this means.
So, in the meantime, I write casual essays and articles and re-written mythos and I share that with the Hellenic community on-line. I know what to make of these pieces. I understand where it comes from, and I know what it all means two minutes after I write it down.
If you have any interest in trying to help me make sense of what this remaining 1/3 of my notebooks mean, you can now feel free to contact me at the e-mail address I’ve provided here. Please be prepared to explain to me why you are qualified to decipher this brain-spew; also, be warned, that I’m very poor (on disability allowance for physical reasons) and it is not worth your time to try and swindle me.