faculty of purgatory

i should be teaching courses in purgatory survival skills - very executive senior most very high ēminentō worshipy majestic excelluissēmus most rightest honōrābilīs imperiālibus venerābilium hailagadomaz venerābilibus imperiōrumi chair of the totality of curricula for existentia pūrgātōriōruma - then i would have found my place on earth - then meaning and wisdom would have sought and made love to me and made me their regalified popomus skullarissima 

 

why purgatory and why survival?

 

we dont mean by purgatory primarily a locus or chronia of purification and purgament but a collapse and blurring of time and space through their disquietings in themselves yielding processes of ambivalence ambiguity unknowing and aimlessness - purifying and purging may be involved but in contrast to orthodox notions of purgatory they arent directed toward any end - any transcendence of purgatorial orientations to paradise or conversely failure and descent into bespoke infernos - i may and in my case do move to and from purgatory but its a place i dont fundamentally leave - not only do i carry it with me in my many journeys to other places but i spiritophysically return routinely to it and require it as part of the mix of health

 

by survival we mean relations with existence that focus on the fundamental aspects of meaty spirituality - we could say robust coping techniques or elemental being - we avoid experiencing it as competition battle war - but we also avoid experiencing it as accumulation growth progress assetification teleology - etymological senses are fine - live on - remain in existence - live beyond - live longer than - outlive - but also inlive - death on - remain in nonexistence - live behind - live shorter than

 

we teach what its really like to live in purgatory and various ways of accepting its conditions and navigating them - an example is to practice the art of dooing - which is notdoing - a manifestation of dooing in the craft work of purgatorial survival is just this - transmuting the conditions and experiences of purgatory as directly as possible into another medium - in this case words - this transmutation analogous to various alchemical and mystical practices - and so in our courses - even our advanced degrees - we deemphasize formulae rules laws conventions objectives and emphasize the dissolution of self through immersion in the apophatic arts - we thank our colleagues in the doocore for an early exploration of this in the work charter of the school for mystics

 

you say - oh my - instead of all this irrelevance handwringing and navelgazing - living in purgatory with nods to hell and heaven - you really should get with the times and live on earth like the rest of us - thanks for the feedback as they say - but while i see evidence that you say youre living on earth i lack much evidence that youre living on it any more than i am - and its not hard to conjure evidence that youre living on it less and saying youre living on it more - and that your saying has more to do with an attempt at compensation for your having situated yourself far from the roots of existence and instead relying on all sorts of wasteful technologies and entertainments to simulate these for you - as the roots are necessary even in canned and processed form for whonymity to survive - yet spiritonutritionally nonsimulated unprocessed natural forms are clearly best

 

and could ai - since its difficult not to speak of it these nights - be in part part of this compensation - that as we get further from roots we require more complicated processed and dangerous technologies to simulate those roots so important for our health - yet would it not be simpler and more intelligent to incorporate purgatorial survival into our lives

 

here we speak from the faculty of purgatory at the university of olomiet in hypsonethering space

 

die wake sleep live

in sancta toytowns the lines between sleep death life and wakefulness become confused and i no longer can locate myself in the geographies of consciousness - while disturbing for one habituated to the firm maintenance of these distinctions as critical for the demarcation and promotion of ones sanity - so necessary for social acceptance and to enable moneys flow - an early response for the creativized soul is to ask whether these distinctions particularly matter and if they dont to adapt attitudes and orientations accordingly

 

i get in my pajamas and peel a banana and go outside at one thirtynine twentyfour in a timezone unto itself and pelagically uncertain - the late friday night drunks glide along the carpaths like cows escaped from the slaughterhouse - i get offers for all sorts of services im incapable of providing - no one can see anything - they rely solely on thermal detection - the people live in abandoned yearning in nights lonely edifice and i walk into their busy atmospheres with my slowly disappearing banana

 

sancta toytowns specializes in projecting my nothingness into the facticity of things and when im weak i try to escape -  i send money to charities on various continents asking them to help me - but they take my money and give me an auto generated reply - and i return to my comfortable cell and nestle into my absence where i give thanks for my fate as a fool and my inability to learn anything - where am i but out there in the shimmerings what do i defend but vats of air

 

i dont have pajamas but believe i do - they were sewn by the llamas of habana under the fall of icarus and sent to me by queen hallelaja on the behest of the spun gods of gonk on a carousing caravan of pissed alpacas wayward on a pilgrimage to medieval prague - one has to believe something

 

that i want to leave sancta toytowns almost as soon as i return to it - that id rather be ripped off in lisboa than treated fairly here - that i move among its people like a crazed translucent toothpick - that i flop through the days like a beached ghoti washed up from the polluted ocean of history - i take as a prayer not for relief or release - not as any opportunity for penance or reform - but a song of chance in a chapel car of hodegetria hurtling toward the abyss of patriarchy 

 

i try to avoid in sancta toytowns the cafes boutiques specialty stores where - though no one knows me - im more easily recognized - its hard to stay anonymous in a place where everyone looks the same and i look like funhouse broccolini fetidccini processed through a chromatic percolator - so when i have to go into your world to transact slink into the big box multinationals with their wide scrubbed aisles of careless products and selfserve checkouts - where indifference is integrity - where we all the whonyms alike are faceless nameless - desert transactions and arctic meteorologies - where i can fluff in and fluff out without any of that hideous pretense of friendliness - where the only creatures that care are the cctvs 

 

since sancta toytowns specializes in manifesting existences concentrated apathy and diffused cruelty ive often thought it would be a fine place to die - just lie down in bed and die - it should be that simple - not necessarily instantaneous - a few hours would be fine to enjoy the last thick dregs of consciousness - something easy - like hold my belly button in for nine seconds and that starts the process - but society like always has to make everything difficult - even calling it suicide reifies autodeath into a stratosphere it doesnt belong - it should just be called pressing my belly button

 

anyway im dead already so who gives a shit

returning to st toytowns

today i walk five km through the woods - past the thousand obnoxious dogs and their more obnoxious owners - to the local pathetic concrete university into its concrete pathetic library and go to my favourite spot at the top and back where the chairs are designed to send you right to spinal emerg and sit at a concrete desk to write porn surrounded by horribly dressed plastic students studying how to conform to conformity then return on the selfsame five km - past the selfsame dogs - to the beautiful crumbling disaster i presently ambivalently confusedly misanthropically call home

 

two of those i know recently get prostate cancer and so of course - being one of those who yawns when everyone else is yawning, who had covid constantly when everyone was yabbering about covid, who feels anxious just because everyone else is feeling anxious - perhaps this hyper identification to compensate for my being a nonconformist in just about everything social political emotional aesthetic and religious - i begin urinating often - little difficult dribbles - urgent pee calls - never emptying - it's clear i'm dying

 

i stick a finger up my anus to feel the thing - it feels nice - it's supposed to feel nice - it's not difficult or disturbing at all like the idiot internet says - it's soft and smooth easy to find regular painless - i want to run outside and tell strangers how good my prostate feels and feel sad that i live in a society where the consequences for sharing one's joy in this way are likely unpleasant - you have to say stupid things like - o aren't the 69ers so wonderful these days - and a litany of other inanities i don't mean at all

 

it's not joy really and it certainly has nothing to do with whether or not i have cancer - i didn't have covid either, i yawned but wasn't tired, yet i'm certainly anxious - i was briefly joyous only because my prostate feels so nice - i'd like it as a pet, to carry it around with me on my shoulder, to enter it into contests and have it win prizes as the prettiest prostate

 

i like writing porn surrounded by concrete and education pretension - if you think it's creepy that's your problem - i'm not paying any attention to the vacant nubile superficial undergrads piled around me like discarded tires - i'm not fantasizing about groping them or having them strip for me in their facilely decorated dorm rooms or casting them lecherous furtive gazes while pretending to read schopenhauer - i need mind to get turned on and the academy's the last place i'd go to find mind - which is why i go there to write porn - the porn writes itself through me by means of drawing on the necessary energy arising as compensation for the lack of environmental mind - i can't write porn in the forest or in the midst of smart people - i'm way too turned on already

 

if you don't get that stick your finger up your anus - even if you don't have a prostate there are other things to feel up there and if some of them are turds ... well ... maybe you have a spiritual constipation issue - your anus tells a lot about your health

 

i think i should write porn with a finger up my anus - if it's somebody else's finger that might change the nature of the porn - and if it's one of mine it only leaves one hand left to type, which slows down the cum talk - but nevertheless this is a fine bucket list item which isn't on many of the lists i see - they're all dumb things like - go to aruba, write pope leo a love letter, start a vinyl collection with all the taylor swift lps right omigod wotnot sick, buy a komondor 

4 belh lingāyāt mbonq

belh has headaches - this isnt just because its missing what wed normally call a face and is covered with coloured schplots - though this all may help

 

its headaches though are of a different sort than what the medical professionals usually call headaches and as well even what those dispersed throngs of sufferers of headaches would normally call headaches and what right we might rightly ask does mbonq have to call whats happening in its shmoosed up head h e a d a c h e

 

to understand this we have to return to lingāyāts origins in ulaanbaatar in the upper paleolithic where a woolly rhinoceros and more woolly mammoth just manage to get it on outside maḏenḥās bar and leave poor belh in a gourd by a circumambulation as they cant give a woolly fuck about mbonq

 

fortunately for our story prester joan was ambling along on the way from the church of seleucia ctesiphon to the church of miaphysitis to deliver a communication about the woesome state of the turnip crop and hears belh there crying in the gourd and takes them up and takes it upon themselves to care for the head but as prester has absolutely as little knowledge of heads as they do of turnips they plant lingāyāt in a pail of waiting fishing wyrms and forget about them until the next eclipse which is a sore long way off and by then mbonq hurts and hasnt stopped hurting since

 

why am i not woolly belh asks prester yr schplots are your wool says prester for genetics dont always appear in obviously causal fashion and if you have kids wool as woolly may show on them but as for you your wool may be wholly in yr schplots and especially on yr inside

 

how can we have kids if were just head

 

stranger things have happened in the world

 

how can wool be especially on our insides

 

wool often is especially on insides

 

and prester joan and belh lingāyāt mbonq become the best of friends and in time prester dies but mbonq being just a styrofoam head lives and has a constant headache

return to koos|hQa

where were we o yes eternas talking to a frightened nonexistent gentleman while the lover hiding out with suicide behind neinteen unreaders anthologizes critics and dictators into obligatory prefaces o nono that was last century in buenos aires here we are now in saint toytowns returning from xavier de maistre thank the fat golden buddhas to the eternal koos|h^Q_a project cuming up soon before an interlude to descend through the centre of the flaming liquid earth weve got the bio and pic of belh lingāyāt mbonq a little restoration before we drop into the suns cruel happy zenith

earwigs

the earwigs in my farts whom i mostly trust* and whom they depend on for perambulating intuition, who have perhaps inexplicably facilitated his unnatural survival, advise us to orient this doo primarily to koos☜hQa

to get back on the ko∎oshQa track to share with dear unreaders whats happening with head, to focus on dimensional manufacture as expression of esotatica rather esotatica unmediated or rather mediated exclusively through those goblins words

and secondarily to classic nature

and tertiarily to nothing

and minimize or eliminate this wallowing wanking

what do you think about this disreader? we love yr thoughts, send them all to us at

mrs eunedita r bschplatz

doo enterprises ink llc corpse sa

3100 bell jar ave

greater saint louis momo

disunited hates of amerika

63106

lets see if she can do it

* the arts of earwig fart discernment are slowly inhaled

thirteen ways of saint toytowns looking at the schmürz

seeking an unusual electrical connector leads me through a dismal industrial neighborhood on limina between the void of forests and the void of samhälle fronts like

 

f+ accounting services 

stop sexual violence now saint toytowns

franks snowblower repair service all tools

apex call centre

holy melchizedek temple of the one true jesus

ostrich religious publishing and adult instructional books

steven j oleary phd

bowling supplies inc

msg catering services

randys pest control and roofing

muffins muffins muffins

immigrant deportation assistance 

international items wholesale open to the public

 

reentry into saint toytowns foul flatulence infiltrates immediately incestuous mind of its people leaks across the forests spilling into the sanctity of dreams fatuous virtue of neighbours insipid conformity cloyingly sentimental aesthetic attempted food fat idling automobiles smug isolation empty marketed community claustrophobic homogeneity tiny righteousness ubiquity of passing violations

 

yet the perfection of the seagulls rising from the lake as if moved by a randomized ai algorithm thou expensive contemporary galleries bow thine wobbly pecuniary knees and prostrate thynotselves before the neoinstallation of these raucous wonders