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Yes yes I admit I have practised that vile sin and fallen into many fallacious ways so how am I to lead if
I am led by my un-ruly part.
Gurdjieff also that sly old city shaman in his worn slippers smiled under his moustache at similar
questions always coming back - eternal recurrence and the nostalgia of constantly repeated for people of
lost possibilities who had drawn away into a deeper dust. His truth could be told to Laundrei in such a
way as to defeat him and keep him in G & O powerlessness.
Sex is a normal and natural way to horness energy and create further possibilities in the organisms.
Being alpervasive like hydrogen it forms one of the main springs of the multi-valued and self-creating
fuzziness so we find philosophicantly that everything people do connected with sex - politincs reliction art
theatre music is all sex. People go to the theatre or church or sport event not for its own sake but simply
because there in the crowds of men and women is the centre of gravity of sex. That's why people go to
any meeting or occasion or rally. You are merged each more than you note in a general empathy. So you
see sex is the principal motive force of all mechanicalness. Hypnosis depends upon it. So you must
ledgerdemise more room for this extralactivity among your other rattributes so become more
mechanical.
So! Dragging in a fever on the torpedo sucking down the smoky poison of the GO-warning. So!
Mechanicalness yes the great modern force all working with the beneficiency of the machination. That is
how it will be under hydrogen-eration! We'll strop this nonsense of astral bodies then and the whispering
anoise of spirituality - only physical bodies aloud then. You are right. I will be glad and make myself
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machinelike. He strode up and down. Hirst! Hirst. Hirst be a good boy take this saint and lock him
up in a singlecell then first thing tomorrow we will make one last little testicle and see how the godhead
manages miracles.
As they paced through the dim stonebone maze Wechsel said, I don't know what you did to him but I
can tell he's going to be a devil tonight I'm half scared to go back there his rod of iron! Leaving Charteris
in a dark locked place returning to his man-chine.
Charteris tying back recalled as best he could the immortal conversation and foxy old G saying to his
disciples that mechani-calness was the destroyer as he well knew and sex was not mech-ani-calness
when itself and not masquerading - pure when pure evil when self-deceiving - and here he had helped in
the disintegration of Laundrei in real G style by getting him on a sterile trackway.
Once recurrent more experience of night in which a planet rounds its imagrained edges and sky blancks
like an eyelid or the minds downcast clearing hevens daze echoes playback the dischard progrimm in
drems highspield Discofete.
But steamputteed kommandant made brief apparition at his bunkside to announce to Charteris
half-awaken yar the saints worms of advice will be utilised to tranceform the polizei more mechanical he
must also himself become robot-erotic marshalling already phallis-call-thenics for daily parage. Drill
square all pressure and corrupt piston pulling pushing with electonic force jackoff-booted polizei will
present forearms per zent fore ARMS perfect euni-sion now mass-tur-bash-ing on the march commense
updown updown keep the tumessence there you in the rear wank that man links links links reckt links
moonlight moonlight stick out your chesticles there prick up the undressing in front no shooting before I
give the sommand shoot or there will be someone up on a dishcharge
So the penal square shakes to footdrilling objection of person-elity like the sparse wilderness pillowing
forth and all the prairie under plough cracking thorowing up fooldrilling objects anjy
old coffins craking ramshack doors grimd open where look grabbling mummies of skeletall desire the
nocterning dead hold to themselves weathered wallflowers in sepia phorno-gravure with my lurching
steps forced farce-to-farce grim-croaking incum-ber-land heavies waddled I barely foot it down into
trumpery old decade church protestine that the sign mis-laid my tread shell of smella-rage
furflying estumnal dust all all round all excrusimation of the impalid rose out ostone damp damp sump
turannean roomour me my arms outstranked shaden light shaden light makes motet anthemist clearing
reviles three of the gravure mumbos jumble fearwards at me futhorks in their scrolls two intently loading
on me trumperished rainment with schoden goods I hairglooms one whose armoured hanks all
sack-wristed one a serafemale in the oldem broildered light and third fligger blackly small in fumireal
drapery transponting water before him Sauting to transfuse me from this fissure I at his viscage of
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