Winter Solstice December 21st 2012 8:47am.

if we must have religion, let's be ranters

"Even the working-class Levellers, Diggers, and Ranters had some acquaintance with Hermetic ideas or ideals - such as the esoteric interpretation of Scripture; universal tolerance; "pantheistic monism"; direct contact with the devine, without the intermediation of priest or Church; a tendency to antionomianism; a belief in the sacred quality of material Nature; an inclination to view "God" as "universal Reason" (or Mind); faith in the power of the imagination to change reality; social egalitarianism; the millennium or "World Turn'd Upside Down"; etc."

"A Ranter or proto-Ranter, who liked to "blaspheme gloriously" and preach in taverns while drinking and smoking, with a whore perched on his knee, might also have been attracted by the European image of Islam's sensuality. In effect Islam is a more pro-sexual religion than Christianity, and to some extent views pleasure as devine beneficence."

- Peter Lamborn Wilson; Pirate Utopias, Moorish Corsairs & European Renegadoes; A Christian Turn'd Turk.

Somnambulism

Well the diagnosis is in, i have the above condition. My paralysis switch is faulty and has been since i was born. There is no cure. i could die, step on the wrong end of a rake or break something really valuable. Medical professionals call me a victim, but i reject this and refer to myself as a professional somnambulist. i plan to excel in my disorder, raise awareness within the community and have no clear recollection what so ever.
The above image has nothing to do with my somnambulism, well maybe kind of. i have been taking close up shots of peoples eyes since university and have quite a collection now - this is a small selection from my journal dated October 2001. The images were all taken with my trusty Pentax MZ50 and yes, some these eyes were under the influence at the time. 'Influence of what?' - i hear you say, well that is up to you to figure out. Anybody know which eye is mine?

bzzrt kzzisit shh ak...it's not complete isolation turning into a dusty alleyway when the way is as crossed footy fields of old car parking with fading yellow lines and cracks making way for crumbling weeds. what happens when some alter ego emerges swiftly from a diseased silence, only to possibly fade away before any sense is made clear? novelty wears thin. what happens when the car breaks down by the waters edge and the roofrack, a tarp and some empty water containers become your new vessel or refuge? nothing of course will perhaps make any sense at all times, as trips just under four million metres in a home made mask, fighting without desert winds, to move in the only direction you remember travelling toward, in a dream that fades into lost property. isolation as a bar. drink for water or to drink? over and over. a cascading flow repeating forever. was that just another dream? too many questions. erase any afterthoughts before drowning this text into a common pool of swill that we'll all be eating in a pigs afterlife.