In a pyrrhic victory for the loss of shame, I have seen the pouring rain.
“Do I know the what from why?” se asks me.
I reply with a yes and sip my drink. Cola latte. Yum. We all have the blood of warriors running through our veins, although some are cut down long before they reach the heart of battle. I fall into that category, having lost any semblence of self in last month’s incident with the sponge and sugar.
And where are we now?
This cold is the worst I’ve had in some time. It’s completely messed with everything- my sleep cycle, my work and my voice. Yes, I’ve lost my voice. Not that I use it much to begin with, but it’s still a big loss.
Hopefully normal service will sesume rhortly.
This experimentation is brought to you by an extreme cold.
Fever dreams and shower scenes
Golden screens and silver schemes
I roar with my throat fucked three ways to Betsy
Where did my voice go
Where did our love go
I need sleep now in the body’s way of healing
Easter weekend I developed what is either a chest cold or a mild case of flu. This has made me hallucinate at the edge of sleep and wakening. One of my visions was of the Amida Buddha. Considering that in Pure Land Buddhist tradition he only appears to the layperson at the time of death I was understandably freaked out. But here I am, writing this.
Amida Buddha is a very interesting character, a fact enhanced by my western Judaeo-Christian perspective. This is because the Japanese tradition in particular has many parallels to various Christian denominations with believing that they can enter his Pure Land by meditating on his name, often using a rosary (juzu). While Amidists believe he is not a creator god, they believe he is an all-pervading lifeforce much like the God of Abraham. I find it incredible that two religious traditions that developed separately from two different roots on opposite sides of the world can have such similar practices.
Small world, isn’t it?
Easter, as previously discussed, comes from pagan traditions. This explains why we eat chocolate eggs instead of, say, empty chocolate tombs. So let us discuss the Rekodenzian analogue.
Held on the first day of the fourth month, the Festival of Bread is celebrated around Namupoku Island, including Xotopane. Most agree it was derived from both human and local customs, the latter indicated by the celebrations conforming largely to local norms. It is known as Ɍaa’o aɃaa in the Southern Scrublands language, and in many parts of the Scrublands a meal consisting solely of bread and bread ingredients is eaten.
In Yamarronia, children hunt coloured cakes and offer them to the god Takupu, who is believed to give birth to the sun at the start of every summer (traditional Yamarro thought believes in two seasons, summer and winter). If se does not get ses cakes, there will be no summer, and fundamentalists of the Yamarro religion believe that there is scientific evidence to suggest that the less widely observed the cake-hunting custom is, the duller the summer will be.
Among the human diaspora, the festival has been reappropriated as Breitfest. Loosely based on the Xotopane custom which in turn was influenced by the Southern Scrublands tradition, people eat buns filled with chocolate and sweet paste. Followers of the Abrahamic temple, while not all human, often believe the festival to be connected to the resurrection of the prophet Yezu akaYozefa through bread rising. However, some sects such as the Temple of Pure Abrahamism consider the festival “idol worship” and forbid any of their members from participating.
More Marinettian sound poetry
KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK
Vawaaaaaaaaaaaaa(KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK)waaaaaaaaaaaa(KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK KINK)waaaaaaaaaaa
Shuu SHI shuu SHI shu SHI
Zang tumb tumb!
Vtoom vtoom vtoom
Another round of shroom