"Transcendent joy," said the big green bat.
"Right," I said "I'm absolutely in favor of both those things. But before we go any further, could you tell me the two prime factors of 1,522,605,027, 922,533,360, 535,618,378, 132,637,429, 718,068,114, 961,380,688, 657,908,494 ,580,122,963, 258,952,897, 654,000,350, 692,006,139?
"Universal love," said the cactus person.
"Transcendent joy," said the big green bat.
The sea was made of strontium, the beach was made of rye. Above my head, a watery sun shone in an oily sky. A thousand stars of sertraline whirled round quetiapine moons, and the sand sizzled sharp like cooking oil that hissed and sang and threatened to boil the octahedral dunes.
"Okay," I said. "Fine. Let me tell you where I'm coming from. I was reading Scott McGreal's blog, which has some good articles about so-called DMT entities, and mentions how they seem so real that users of the drug insist they've made contact with actual superhuman beings and not just psychedelic hallucinations. You know, the usual Terence McKenna stuff. But in one of them he mentions a paper by Marko Rodriguez called A Methodology For Studying Various Interpretations of the N,N-dimethyltryptamine-Induced Alternate Reality, which suggested among other things that you could prove DMT entities were real by taking the drug and then asking the entities you meet to factor large numbers which you were sure you couldn't factor yourself. So to that end, could you do me a big favor and tell me the factors of 1,522,605,027, 922,533,360, 535,618,378, 132,637,429, 718,068,114, 961,380,688, 657,908,494, 580,122,963, 258,952,897, 654,000,350, 692,006,139?
"Universal love," said the cactus person.
"Transcendent joy," said the big green bat.
Previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously.
I mean, I saw it coming, but that didn't make the getting there any less enjoyable.
Read (and or write) enough contentless nonsense and you'll eventually come into more open contact with the entities who inspire it. Drugs lead to the same place, and in many ways are easier, but they aren't necessary. What is necessary is a certain willingness to pay attention to compulsive and sometimes spectacular liars.
As some Enochian practitioner once wrote, somewhere on the internet that I have never been able to find again: what they say is always utter nonsense and total lies. The effect that they have on their listeners occurs on a completely different level, which requires that you pay attention to them but does not require that you understand anything. To which I add: That you not understand, either what they are doing, or what you are doing, or anything else worth understanding, is the entire purpose that they have set for themselves.
These are the low level chumps. To see that the higher ones are equally liars is much, much harder. A life's work. Everyone does that work, but mostly outside of, and with no awareness of, the very old tradition of those who are most fully aware of, and understand, what they themselves are doing. The rest of us, as has been rightly said by one who knew, do not know what we do.