Dem Beings Been Buzzin in Yer Eerz

Dem beenz been buzzin in yer eerz. Dey buzzin derr, dey buzzin here.

Wazzatt your thott flashin thru yer hedd?

Betcha it was sure a beenz instead.

See dem birdz up in the sky?

No, beenz are playing in yer eye.

Beenz light up inside yer skin.

Didn’t know about that didja?

(Dem beenz have potenshul medikul apppleekayshunz.)

Dem beenz is everwhere there could be.

De mountains, desert, and de sea.

Beenz streem in parades down from de star.

Dey fill de sky, both near and farrrrrr.

Anyway, just saying, derz a lotta beenz.

Thott you might like to know!


why? why blog? why i blog?

ganesh nameganesh-flute-and-mouse


A standard, if somewhat frivolous,  response could be “why not.” And that would be essentially correct, from a logical (if not cosmological) standpoint.

Logically, “nonexistence” implies the possibility of “not-nonexistence.” Or “existence” implies “not-existence.”

This is the fundamental statement from the Principles of Modern Magic (POMM) Dimensional Magic theory of Binariomic Net Intentionalism (BNI). The concept of BNI has not yet been fully developed or posted about, but it essentially states that there is an existential binary characteristic embedded in the structure of the universe, which is complexified and evolved as multiple dimensional nodes or layers overlap upon, within, and around one another.

All existence grows out of a mandatory binariomic choice, the net is the dimensional mesh, and the intentionalism is a form of “intelligent design” guiding the binariomic choices.

The answer to the question “why?” is that, paradoxically, and necessarily, the universe allows both “not-existence” and “existence” to be true at the same time. It cannot be understood, only allowed into the system of logical assumptions, and somehow dealt with.


why blog?

If we take “blog” to signify “the writing of stuff by individuals, mostly for personal reasons, which is posted to a website, and is accessible to the public who have access to the Internet.” This definition isn’t perfect, so we call it a working definition for the purposes of this article.

People blog because they seek a wider audience for their views, because they want to interact with others, be liked, and be followed. Some people like the opportunity to practice creative production, and others like the opportunity to disseminate their work.

It comes down to wanting to somehow expand beyond your own mind and home and local community.


why i blog?

In a nutshell, to promote my Magic Modernization Project (MMP) idea. Officially, I (Pytho Black, I need to try to keep my true identity confidential due to the controversial nature of the magic rationalization project) need for one particular person to read my blog, who may not necessarily have been born yet, and may not read it until after I die. Officially, I don’t care one way or the other. Of course, in real life I desire likes and followers and social interaction just as much as anybody else. I also desire sex and food and pleasure as well. Except…..my spiritual path, clearly laid out before me, requires me to relinquish all desires, especially related to the outcomes of my actions. It’s a real conundrum and probably impossible to explain.

With my spiritual path in mind, many years ago, it became clear that eventually my activities would be limited to meditation, simple life support, and staying healthy by walking around and enjoying nature. That seemed kind of boring, so I tried to invent an interesting “hobby” for myself. That led to weeks of intense contemplation on magic, and the possibility of making it real. Ultimately, the idea of rationalizing magic came to me, and all of the Principles of Modern Magic (POMM) and the 6 books. Practically, it became obvious that I was too lazy to do all of that, without some kind of motivation. Also, the MMP would need to be somehow marketed to the world, or it wouldn’t really be a project at all.

So I investigated publishing and blogging, and started this blog. I came up with the idea of the novel Out of the Foam as a means of introducing to the public the POMM concepts in literary form, and started writing other stories as practice to develop writing skills for what promises to be an exceedingly difficult novel.

The other reason I blog then, is to somehow motivate myself to write Out of the Foam.

Then, Donald Trump got elected as U.S. president in 2016. Like many people, I got a bit hysterical, and wanted to do something. I made a billion brilliant comments on social media platforms, and learned that those who agreed with me had always agreed with me and those who didn’t never would. I also found that those liberals who agreed with me, frequently, were just as programmed as their conservative adversaries.

Comments and statements have little effect in changing people’s political thinking, it seems.

But what about the people working for Putin, who had put time and effort in hacking the election so effectively? If they were hackers, I knew they didn’t give a shit one way or the other about politics or ideology. They just like showing off their skills and doing exploits.

How to get through to them? What do they have in common? They like games, probably. Games! So I invented the GO MAGA! game, a role-playing game (RPG) wherein in Part 1 the player helps a Trump-like character take over the world, but in Part 2 the player, using knowledge gained from Part 1, STOPS the Trump-like character. I taught myself how to use a RPG-making software, and developed the game to a certain extent.

I blog because I want to get motivated to truly develop the GO MAGA! game.

In a way, I blog because I’m on a spiritual path, and I know my death is coming. I reject the correct, totally boring path of complete renunciation, because I know this is my last life on this earth, one way or the other, and millions of others have followed the boring, certain, path, maybe, and they have done it so I, who imagine myself to be unique want to kind of go out with a bang. But it is still essential to remain disconnected from the outcomes of my plans, actions, and magic.

Long ago, I decided to follow a course of “Raja Yoga” for a number of reasons, but mainly because its most relevant characteristic was meditation, something that seemed relatively easy, and that I believed I had a talent for. I tried meditation, calming my mind, and trying to allow the reflection of what is called “The Self” onto my consciousness. This was harder than I expected, and in fact, almost 20 years later I am only barely achieving the minimum improvement of the earliest phase. But even that tiny attainment is noticeable, and I like it, and my perspective has evolved, and it is absolutely right.

I blog because of the inspiration of Ganesh. Bhakti Yoga devotees have taken what is perhaps the most sure, easiest path to “self-realization” according to Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita part of the Hindu epic Mahabharata. Bhakti Yoga is the “Yoga of Devotion.” Worship of and dependence on a higher power. I understand the efficacy and appeal of Bhakti Yoga, but as far as “higher powers” go, mehh. Most, if not all, so-called “higher powers” are in reality imaginary social constructs. The Social Magic POMM explains how collective intentionalities use beliefs to attain power at multiple levels. But beliefs are necessarily mental creations. Gods and angels and demons are useful lenses for focusing Intention, but there is no need for them to physically exist. They are entities of the mind. Nevertheless, as mental creations, they do have a form of existence.

So the Hindu one-tusked elephant-headed deity, Ganesh, son of Shiva and Parvati, who rides on a mouse, is unlikely to have an actual physical manifestation. No matter, one time, while meditating in my room, I felt a presence. The room lit up somewhat like the way a living room lights up on Christmas Eve, to the eyes of a child looking at the Christmas tree. And there was Ganesh, sitting on the air conditioner, smiling in approval. That is how people get delusions, I guess, but it felt good and let me know I was on the right path.

So I blog because I am compelled to promote the Magic Modernization Path and the political role-playing game, indirectly at the behest of some imaginary Hindu deity. I am not supposed to care about outcomes, but being lazy, I find energy from external support.

There has never ever been any social support whatsoever for these projects, so they are somewhat languishing. Ever since the Ganesh episode, I have been plagued by hyperstimulating insights and inspirations. At first they seemed so….brilliant, so important. But constant stimulation depletes energy, is painful, and causes one to act weirdly. It took years to learn how to turn off the switch of these epiphanies, years of meditation and physical training. I have grown to appreciate and enjoy the minimal mental tranquility and ability to focus I have gained. Writing these articles turns the switch back on. Then I find it difficult to sleep, I feel vaguely nauseous and lose the desire to eat or do things I should. I feel a compunction to seek some kind of social acceptance, which always turns out to be futile. That is for the best, but is nevertheless painful and discouraging and unhealthy.

So when I realized that money was going to be an issue, in these my declining years, I decided that the WordPress Business Plan was too expensive. I asked them to change it to the Personal Plan. The support person warned me, I should back up my content. After two years I had accumulated quite a body of work, brilliant, awesome, genius creative product….59 posts. But I had already lost faith in the Project. Very few ever read any of the posts, and no one ever commented. I was tempted to delete them all myself! But I decided as an experiment to see what would happen. According to the Exchange POMM, the destruction of so much created material would be balanced by a highly focused creative pulse. And sure enough, most of my content was deleted by WordPress. I had saved a few early posts offline, but the prospect of recreating the rest has been painful to contemplate, difficult to effect, and my elderly brain has forgotten most of what I had written.

So I blog to try to bring back what was lost after WordPress deleted my posts due to me changing from Business Plan to Personal Plan. I find this to be hilarious. You must not think, on the basis of this post, that I am a serious, humorless blogger. That’s just how the narrative appears, there just isn’t much to laugh about within this set of circumstances. But it is still quite funny from certain perspectives.

And now, how long will it take to turn off the switch, and rediscover peace of mind?


Yoga of Rust, Mold, and Cockroaches: Why Humanity is Overrated (2017)


I am the center of the universe, of that I have no doubt. I am “here,” clearly, and everything else is “there.” “Here” is where I must be snuggled closely with whatever I might be, I have no intimacy with out “there.” Although sometimes if I close my eyes, and plug my ears, I still see pictures, and hear words and sounds. I wonder, “are they here or are they there?”

There are times, rarely, when the “there” and my “here” seem to approach one another. I refuse to concede the supremacy of anyone else’s “hereness” or even that another “here” other than my own can even exist. I am, after all, the center of the universe.

God, I am inclined to believe, made the universe. Perhaps God made me as well, but I am not 100% sure about that! I am not too sure about anything, actually. Can I truly trust memories and perceptions that might not even be my own? There is too much “thereness” in the universe for my taste.

So who is this God fellow anyway, and why do I believe he exists? I believe God exists because that’s what people have always told me, and because some people wrote it down in some books. I never saw him, nobody can point him out to me, or show me where he hangs out. He’s supposed to be everywhere and know everything and be capable of doing anything. How does he do that? Nobody can explain it to me.

Still, the people say he’s there, and that he made everything, and it’s even written in the books. It must be true, then. Lots of things must be true. The people get mad at me if I don’t say yes to what they say. I find it better, then, not to say anything. To prevent trouble, I am willing to believe all of them, especially if they are nearby, sometimes, or none of them when I close my eyes and stop my ears. Those internal words and pictures, they don’t always correspond with what the people do and say. It’s all out “there” really, and doesn’t concern me too much.

Today I discovered something, it’s called a 7-11! I was exploring the world, out riding a bicycle. I had discovered this bicycle on the patio of the place where I slept, I think it is my apartment. It’s probably my bicycle, it feels familiar, but who knows? Everyday there are new discoveries, and it’s very difficult for me to separate the new from the old. I don’t trust “my” memory, I am not sure it is mine at all.

I was happy to discover this place. It’s not far from the place I think I live at. I was thirsty, and decided to go in, it seemed to allow that. So it became less “there” and a lot more “here.”And I also discovered that not only is there food and drink and lots of other things inside the store, like hats and tampons and lottery tickets, but people are in there too, and they will let you take what you want, if you give them money. Money is strange, it has to do with this piece of plastic I discovered in a wallet in my pants pocket. Apparently, I did something for a computer, and somehow it made this plastic card magical, where people inside stores like the 7-11 that I had discovered seem happy to swipe it in their machine and let me have their stuff. I vaguely remember something about banks and cash, and “capitalism, ” so I guess that is what you call context. I saw other people using paper and pieces of metal instead of plastic. It’s pretty confusing.

I seem to be running on some kind of program that helps me do things or figure out things or remember things like I’m supposed to, without hurting myself or anybody else or causing too much of a disturbance. So I knew to take my drink outside, and drink it there. I knew to throw the cup away, I didn’t want to carry it anymore anyway, and found myself back on that bicycle again.

As I rode down the road, there came back those internal words and pictures again. They are sneaky, they always want to plague a quiet mind! And with my eyes open, too! I like to enjoy the sky and traffic and trees and whatever. I discover new things to enjoy every day. It does not matter what I may have discovered before, because that was a different “me,” not “here and now” any more but “there and then.”

“Now” is really the same as “here.” “Then” is just a different kind of”there.”

These internal words and pictures, let’s call them what they are, “thoughts” and “memories.” I know what words mean, it’s part of the my functional programming. I can’t really explain it, though, even to myself. These thoughts and memories always try to intrude on my “here and nowness.” I sometimes wish they wouldn’t trouble me so.

Does it all have something to do with God? Does anything have to have anything to do with God? Is that why God made the universe, to bedevil me with useless thoughts and memories? Are the universe and God the same thing? Then where’s the throne and the great white beard? If God is “there” it doesn’t really matter. I am “here” and God is “there” and of one thing I am certain, when it comes to God, it ain’t me, I ain’t no God.


But the thoughts and memories, so close to “here,” sometimes seem as real as or more real than anything else in the world. They get stuck in loops, and I keep having to think and remember similar patterns over and over again, bits of music, emotional complaints, unlikely plans and impossible fantasies. That sort of thing.

So look here, while riding my bike, I have discovered a wonderful new thing! There is this place where a lot of cars are parked, and some wooden steps down to a great sandy stretch, and look, beyond, beneath the sky spotted with bright white clouds slurps a vast blue-ish green-ish expanse of noisy water, foaming at its edge with the sand. It’s my greatest discovery of all time, today, I’ll call it the Atlantic Ocean! That’s what it is. I want to go there, further down the beach, but first I must set aside the bike. My bicycle-related programming tells me I might want it later, so I lock it with the chain wrapped around the seat post. It’s God’s will, I suppose, that the bike should be locked.

After only a few meters plod along the shore, those pesky thoughts returned. I feel strangely susceptible, why not let them have their way for a change?

I wonder “what am I?” I know the answer to that, I am not anything, I am “Self.” So, “why do I look the way I do?”

Look? I only look like anything to eyes that see in a certain way. My eyes aren’t the eyes of the “Self” they are the eyes of the body. The body is a manifestation of “thereness.”The “Self” doesn’t “see,” it reflects, but the reflection is the action of the object being reflected. The body ultimately produces the eyes to perceive, but the perception of itself is dependent on a visualization capability, strongly linked to cognition and memory. “Self” doesn’t do anything.

Cognition and memory are functions and processes. They facilitate the realization of fundamental desires laid down in objective physical structures which are nevertheless physically unperceived, because they exist at a quantum level and do not directly interact with photons or electrons or much of any other kind of matter. These quantum scale structures can be referred to as Sparks of Consciousness.

Therefore, it is the Sparks which energize in some way other Sparks to aggregate and affect matter and energy, which itself consists at the most fundamental level or layer of quantum Sparks, in order to realize some desired end, through a space-time process.

Humans have given the name “Yoga” to a variety of systems or technologies which intend to integrate a category of consciousness associated with the so-called “mind” with the quantum Spark of consciousness referred to as the “Self.” Organic conscious cognition necessarily is constructed from a  multiplicity of Sparks, which are held together only temporarily. Personality then is a temporary construct, as is any physical form, including the thinking mechanism, the brain.

Humans of course have an anthropocentric perspective on the universe. Only humans, it would seem, should strive for self-realization in any religious or sociocultural system, including Yoga. Animals, plants, minerals, the atmosphere, the very earth itself, and the radiance of the sun, are trapped, enslaved, imprisoned, pounded, poisoned, and in every other way mistreated to accomplish the goals of what is perceived to be human consciousnesses. But all matter in this universe is composed of the Divine Quantum-scale Sparks, and the human condition is extremely short-lived and precarious. Human-centric perspectives, while seemingly effective in the short-term, can be considered to be destructive and chaotic, increasing entropy and reducing order, and they perpetuate themselves through a loop of contempt and selfishness in regards to non-human entities of any type.

Consciousness exists at all levels throughout this universe, because the Sparks permeate all matter, energy, space, and time (MEST). Even chemical processes manifest consciousness. Rust, for example, can be described in terms of oxidation. The element of oxygen “wants” to combine with other elements, such as metals. The resultant oxides have their place in the universe, and humans could not live without them. We don’t have eyes to see it, but the oxidation process, the rusting, is a delicate dance, producing lovely and colorful transformations in matter, perhaps from the perspective of the matter involved. It wants to grow, it wants to extend, it wants to reproduce itself. Is rust necessary for life? Is it a kind of life?

To humans, rust is undesirable, it “ruins” metals aesthetically and structurally, from a viewpoint that all metals, all matter in fact, are merely materials  put here for mankind’s use, to be treated without respect or gratitude .

Think about microscopic life forms. The atmosphere is so full of bacterial and fungal and other biological microparticles, it is mind-boggling. It is a virtual biosphere of unthinkable magnitude and importance. We breathe microorganisms, they cover our epidermis from head to toe, they breed, reproduce, live, and die in our food, our water, on everything we touch. Fungi, for example, is well known to be an essential ecological component. Decay is absolutely required for an ecosystem to exist. Google it! Nutrients get locked into organisms, sometimes in nondigestible forms, and in order for other organisms, important organisms, to survive there has to be biodegradation.

Humans easily forget that they are part of an ecosystem. What do you suppose will happen to the human race if we start completely relying on artificial food production, artificial energy production, artificial air and water production, and degrade and destroy the system that has sustained all life for hundreds of millions of years?

Observe the growth of a mold spore, how it develops and expands. The mycelia extend gracefully over the substrate, gradually converting the substance into its own being. Like rust, there is a colorful and frankly lovely transformation. The mold wants  to grow, and expand and reproduce, and in so doing it performs an ecological service.  The biochemistry itself is almost musical.

Humans hate molds because they are toxic and stinky and ruin food and objects. That may be, but mold is a powerful and potent life force, and it would be better and more effective to try to understand and gently manage than to attack with even worse chemicals and treatments.

Do rust and mold deserve a Yoga of their own? Is it possible that inorganic matter and microscopic life forms have consciousnesses of their own and desire to integrate with “Self” on their own levels?

It is easy to understand how mankind and womankind never learned to appreciate the potential divinity within nonliving material and microscopic yucky germs. It’s not in the job description. Nonliving matter is to be used and discarded when no longer useful. Germs are to be obliterated and shushed out of the house and body. Natural history is something to be appreciated on a macro scale.

So what about our larger life forms, the ones with brains? Is it possible that they have Divine Sparks, that not only do they subconsciously want to integrate with “Self” on fundamental chemical and physical levels, but they actively strive to do so on a behavioral level?

It would be horrible to imagine that any animals were empowered with consciousness, when you consider the contemptible and repulsive manner we treat all species other than Homo sapiens. Yeah, there are the pets such as dogs and cats. They get spayed and neutered and bred and brainwashed, never being allowed to lead natural lives, or raise families, or be themselves. And they’re the lucky ones. Imagine being a chicken. You are condemned to being locked in an uncomfortable horrible wire enclosure where you cannot even stand comfortably due to the lack of an actual solid floor. You will never see a chick grow to maturity, you will never develop a social relationship, as the tens of thousands of your colleagues, all mindlessly clucking and defecating and that’s about it are all every one doomed to an awful fate. It may be better a little for the egg layers. It’s still a horrible life.

Try to consider what the fate of a chicken’s soul might be, after so much trauma. No, it’s better not to think about it. It’s better to think “no, animals don’t have souls. We wouldn’t treat any creature with a soul in such a monstrous manner.”

Or a cow, or a pig, or a turkey, or a sheep, or fish whether in aquariums or farm tanks.

Do animals have consciousness? Just watch them!  Yes, it’s obvious that all mammals do, see how the behave, interact, play, observe. What about others? All the vertebrates, and indeed even invertebrates with brains indicate signs of fundamental personality differences and individual behavioral quirks that might lead one to conclude that if such a thing as consciousness exists it might be a common characteristic of animals with brains.

Observe a cockroach, if you can tolerate it. Even I don’t want them around, notwithstanding all my sympathies. It is part of my anti-bug programming, I suppose. According to Wikipedia, about 30 of the 4,600 or so species “are associated with human habitats.” They are part of our socioecological network! Or we are part of theirs. They have been around for hundreds of millions of years, have relatively sophisticated social lives making use of chemical pheromones and complex antenna contact. And if you ever wanted to squash one you know one thing for sure. They obviously want to live and survive and feed and reproduce and be with others of their own kind. Look how they behave! After a while, you get the feeling there is some creepy kind of intelligence going on, a passionate will, a chosen path to follow. Is there a Yoga for these creatures, and do they already follow it!

Pesky thoughts, so many horrible, time-consuming thoughts hurt my brain. Here’s the beach, and here’s the ocean, and I never even paid any attention to any of it for the last hour and a half. I don’t care so much though, because it’s all “there” and “then.” After a deep breath, and a bit of muscle relaxing, the thoughts quiet and I am “here” again. The waves and the breeze and the sun shining in a blue sky. There never was anywhere else.


Garden analogy

I’m avoiding writing the beginning to the MMP Volume I book.

In trying to figure out why, this analogy was constructed. It has many shortcomings and may not be particularly apt in certain respects, but it still is instructive. Also, I need practice in writing. (IMHO (In My Humble Opinion) the main cause of procrastination is a profound laziness, resistance to overcoming inertia being an essential characteristic of my being):


Boredom and a severe case of the munchies has stimulated the spark of an idea to enter your mind. You shall create a garden!


MMMM…imagine, delectable greens, sumptuous and juicy watermelons, healthy green beans, spicy peppers. Perhaps there might be pumpkins? Melons? You like melons.


Consider the potential economic and nutritional benefits, you won’t have to go to the store and pay so much for veggies. You’ll have fresh onions. The value of the potatoes and tomatoes alone will surely cover the cost of the enterprise! And you have always been meaning to eat more salads.


Furthermore, the front yard is a half an acre of weeds. It’s sure to look much better as a garden.


So begins the preparation phase. Seeds and implements have to be acquired. The earth needs to be transformed, ready for the seeds. This is a lot of work. Of course, first, the grass and tall weeds needs to be mowed. Ha ha, you think, congratulating yourself on your insight on nature, all of the cut plants will be turned into a fertile mulch. Some weeds appear particularly robust. No matter, cut them down!


You had not anticipated the rockiness of the soil, nor the depth of the weeds’ roots. The furrows you dig do not appear promising, with the parched–looking earth and so many stones. The hoped for fertile mulch is in reality unsightly clumps of flammable–looking dry straw. The hot sun is oppressive. Many times you nearly faint from the heat, thirst, and exertion.


After many weeks of effort you have prepared a 20 foot–by 10 foot plot. It looks pitifully small in comparison to the surrounding wasteland that was once your front yard. Now that you think of it, the property looked better before, much much better in fact, when it was overgrown with grass and weeds. At least then it was green, not this awful brown.


An overnight rain shower. How quickly the weeds regrow. True, the area surrounding your plot is more pleasing to behold, but the overgrown dirt in the garden space is a nuisance. All those weeds have to be removed yet again, this time by hand. The climate has become even hotter and more humid than before. If you were not such a determined soul, you would give up. Maybe you should give up? Maybe you should just give up on life. Maybe you should start doing drugs again. Television and video games seem like a far better option within the air conditioned house. It seems to be calling you now “come into me, you will be cool and comfortable. Slake your thirst with cold refreshing beverages!”


Yes, you submit, after a trip to the store to buy some steaks and potatoes, and materials for a salad, and some ice cream. And a melon. You like melon.


Overcoming a renewed and somehow pleasant and reasonable lethargy, you take a look at the packages of seeds you have purchased. They spark the previous emotions which had led to this cumbersome endeavor in the first place, however with considerably less intensity. Looking out the window, you note the height of the weeds covering the yard, which shall need to be mowed again. Buh huh, yuck. The future garden plot is immediately noticeable. The weeds in that area are twice as high. They look beautiful in a way, as some are flowering following the recent storms. They almost seem to be smiling. Are they laughing at you?


Well, after weeding the plot for the 9th time, the seed planting was pleasant, it took very little time actually, in the late afternoon. The sky was overcast and there was a slight breeze. You sneeze and cough. The dust and pollen you have inhaled are affecting your well being. In fact, you have difficulty sleeping that night. Sneezing and coughing, teary eyes, you are sure that you are dying. But the seeds have been planted! Hurray, your garden is born!


Oh yes, the plants are going to be nurtured and lavished with love. You walk amongst them under the full moon at midnight, in just a pair of shorts, with no shirt or shoes, to water your children. It had been necessary, at an unexpectedly high expense, to purchase a long hose. You regret having planted the plot so far from the house. Your idea of using water from the small pond has been thwarted by the heat and drought, which have reduced the once inviting pond, with its birds and frogs and water lilies, into a noisome muckhole. Little dessicated corpses are everywhere, and the smell is repulsive. And where are all the snakes coming from? You’ve never seen so many in your life. You are just going to have to mow the weeds again. Oh bother. Stickers and sharp stones and fire ant bites are quite painful to your feet. Next time, you resolve, you will certainly wear shoes.


The source of the snakes, you discover, is the tempting profusion of mice, multitudinous insects, and other small creatures which abound around your garden. “Garden” in name only! Although there are many promising sprouts coming forth, it is difficult to perceive the difference between desired crops and despised weeds. In fact, fully three–fourths of the new foliage appears to be weeds, including many new and interesting types you have never seen before. Perhaps they have some potential value?


Your coughing and sneezing, whenever you go out to water the plants, is worsening. You need to wear boots now, and only set forth in daylight, as you fear that some of the snakes might be venomous, and it is annoying to trod upon the mice, or whatever those little creatures might be. They certainly like the leaves of your tomato plants. When will the tomatoes form? There is no sign of the watermelon, peppers, lettuce, basil, arugula, carrots, corn or 14 other types of plants which you had planted. The exceptions are the green beans and cucumbers, which seem to be trying to grow a little, though they appear withered, yellowish, and unappetizing. Oh yes, there are also signs of potatoes and onions. You dig up a potato. What are these small wormlike creatures happily inhabiting it? You are afraid to check out an onion. Let it grow some time first, before the inevitable disappointment.


Some time after this, you sit at breakfast in retrospection. Maybe it would have been better if you had not waited until late July to plant the seeds. You recognize  your limited horticultural expertise. The soil is apparently deficient in essential minerals and consists, probably, of an abundance of substances not amenable to sympathetic and non–hostile life forms. You have a new respect and admiration for the weeds, whose will to survival in the inhospitable terrain of your front yard is a lesson to all.



To your amazement, some crops have improbably survived to be harvested. You have no recollection of having eaten such dry, pulpy cucumbers before. They are an abomination. They must have come from defective seeds, you decide. The ”green beans” have a sickly yellowish hue, perhaps vomit–like is the best description. They taste bitter and moldy. The potatoes  resemble thriving communities of nematodes and ugly bugs with fearsome pincers. And the onions. Why do they taste so unpleasant, leaving such a metallic aftertaste? The tomatoes appear unnatural, and, frankly, toxic.


While sitting in your rocking chair on the porch, you observe disinterestedly a flock of small birds that had developed a custom of making the garden a stop during their morning forage. There seemed to be  fewer than in previous weeks. What possible food could there be, that they should bother to come at all?


You have learned much from the garden experience. Perhaps, after some research on gardening methods, next year, at the proper time, you will make another attempt. You shudder at the notion.


Modernizing Magic

I was wondering, one day as I was strolling along the beach. Is MAGIC even a thing anymore? And what does the word “MAGIC” even mean in the 21st Century?

I had long ago given up on my childlike fantasies, of some day obtaining magical powers and achieving the objects of my dreams and desires through supernatural means. To be sure, those fantasies had been heavily influenced by the movies and TV shows I had been exposed to, as well as the literature I had enjoyed and wanted so much to believe in.

So as I was pondering about the nature of MAGIC, whether it really exists, or even should exist, I realized that the concept of magic that I was attached to was an outmoded, obsolete, primitive and almost silly seeming relic of ancient and often long extinct cultures, religions, and belief systems dating back hundreds and even thousands of years ago. Those people, I considered, must have developed their magickal technologies through trial and error based on the knowledge of their times.

There are probably tens of thousands of books about what the ancients believed and why, and this is not the place for further elaboration on that topic. It is only necessary to conclude that all of their theories of creation, physics, power, and the nature of the universe no longer remain valid or useful, with certain exceptions.

Maybe MAGIC might still have a place in modern society, if it could be re-imagined and updated it with state of the art perspectives. It was this stream of thought that was the origin of the MAGIC MODERNIZATION PROJECT, or MMP.

MMP Principles of Modern Magic


There is a set of fundamental concepts that will be used as structural elements in the construction of the Project: The Principles of Modern Magic or PPOM. Each Principle will be elaborated on in much greater detail in a later post, and will have dedicated chapters in the first two MMP books.


  1. CONSCIOUSNESS, the primordial source of all Magic in this universe. For the purposes of this discussion, Consciousness is the force that animates, guides and propagates the Will to Exist, the Will to Create and Uncreate, the Will to grow and evolve and multiply, and the Will to Influence the external environment. It manifests separately in all living entities and indeed in all matter and energy in this universe.
  2. OBSOLETE PHILOSOPHIES: If the Old Magicks ever had any validity at all, it had to be within the context of the actual rules of the universe, these Principles of Modern Magic. Almost all successful outcomes of ancient Magic can be explained using the Consciousness Principle and the Social Magic Principle. More broadly, psychology, charisma, and fervent belief are the true sources of effective old-style Magic. Systems to be discarded altogether, or perhaps reworked include; astrology, numerology, demon worship, rituals of all types, sympathetic magic, and the myriad of fanciful and superstitious practices, delightful and interesting as they may be. However, many of the old practices may prove extremely useful indeed, especially when explained in a fresh manner.
  3. SOCIAL MAGIC: Consciousnesses synchronized in space and time, synergetic force either knowingly or unknowingly directed for some common intention.
  4. EXCHANGE or CONSERVATION: Nothing is created without something else being destroyed. It takes energy to do things. There are laws of exchange, conservation of matter and energy, order and disorder (entropy). The Laws of Thermodynamics always apply, but in a more general interpretation. There are causes and effects, and consequences can both feed-back and feed-forward.
  5. PROBABILITY and MATHEMATICS: Embedded within the very fabric of the universe exists a multi-dimensional cloud of probability. All processes whatsoever can be described in terms of number, statistics, and mathematics. Binary and Boolean will be new magical dialects.
  6. TECH MAGIC: Technologies can be developed, including devices, programs, and systems, that will take advantage of the POM to be used as magical tools.
  7.  NEW COSMIC MAGIC: This will replace the very outdated and ridiculous astrology, which so many people still whole-heartedly believe in, with an approach based on 21st Century astronomical, geological, astrophysical, quantum mechanical, cosmological, astrochemical, and other related theories and knowledge.
  8. DIMENSIONAL MAGIC: We know there are multiple Dimensions. Why not explore them? Surely, if Magic is to be more than a selfish pile of delusional wishing formulas, understanding the seens and unseen structure of the cosmos, the Dimensions, will be invaluable.


The eight Principles of Modern Magic, as outlined above, are the core of my approach to modernizing Magic. They can be interpreted differently by anyone, or even ignored, if that seems right, in order to make them consistent with any given person’s belief system. But their whole purpose is to give a definite, rational structure to the MMP. Other principles can be devised, and if they contribute to the purpose, whether or not I agree with them, then they will have my support.




The Eternal Dance

Some lizards communicate by smell, maybe. I’ve never heard them speak, at least the littler ones. Once, while wandering the swamp forest, a smiling crocodile approached, apparently attempting to engage in some sort of relationship. Since there is nothing of note that I would wish to discuss with a crocodile, no disrespect intended, I politely declined by leaving the vicinity with alacrity before she could communicate her desire.



The Eternal Dance


The human scientists are somewhat deluded in their conception of the universe, its origin, structure, and internal workings and phenomena. In particular, they have no true conception of the nature of time or of those ubiquitous but yet elusive so-called “particles” or “waves” which are referred to as photons. Photons actually always, have always, and always will create the space they flow through, absorbing and sweeping along the phenomena in a certain sense that occurs in the space that they create and travel  through.Whence and witherto? Why, they all stream through every point at once, arriving at and departing from The Eternal Dance. 


Singleton Quack Chromodyamics

“Quack!” “Huh?” replied lizard girl, turning her head in the direction of the sound. Looking down from her wooden path on the fence, she noticed a large reedy pond with greenish water, covered with duckweed, and buzzing with the sound of gnats, dragonflies, and wasps. The presence of the duckweed was fortunate for the large, white duck whose reddish eyes were staring up at the lizard girl. She had obviously been gorging herself on the stuff, for bits of the small green leaves were smeared copiously over her orange flat bill.

“Quack. So what do you think you are, and to where might you be going, small creature?”

“Ha ha. I don’t think I am anything, I guess. I just am what I am, probably. Beware, I can squirt blood out of my eye, my mother told me. And I am going forward, cannot you see?  Just look at where my tail points, my legs push me in the opposite direction.”

“Quack! Impertinent object, you are small enough for me to eat, if I were to choose to do so.”

“Ha ha,” replied lizard girl. “I would rather you didn’t. And what means this “quack” anyway?”

The duck paused a moment in reflection, as if she was considering her response. Then both the duck and the lizard girl turned, suddenly, in the direction of a loud splash just behind the duck. A gaping reptilian snout appeared, jaws filled with rows of teeth widened, and sprang shut on the unfortunate duck, scattering white feathers about, some of which settled on the surface of the water. Within the closed mouth of the crocodile a muffled, forlorn “quack quack oh QUACK” could be heard, which faded away as the poor duck got swallowed to its fate.

Looking up at lizard girl, who had gotten somewhat wet from the splash and appeared to be quite startled, he smiled and said “Greetings, little cousin” before winking and slipping back under the water, hardly leaving a ripple.


The Fence that Never Ends

Lizard girl had only been aware of one home in her entire life, a high wooden fence, stretching beyond pale horizons both behind and before her. This fence has boards nailed to it, vertical slats on horizontal supports which form little highways, higher up, lower down, and across the middle of the fence. She rarely strays from the middle way.

Here is a photo of the part of the fence where I saw her that one time, on a fine June day while I was meditating out by the pool.


(I also saw this, but I guess that is a story for another day).



Now, as it is a fence, we realize there is an “inside” and an “outside,” but which side lizard girl is on, remains undetermined. There are numerous cracks and holes which allow lizard girl to see existence on the other side of the fence. Sometimes she sees paradises of animals playing happily together, blue skies, rainbows and such. Other times she sees only horrors, people and animals ripping each other to bits. We know, when she sees the sun going down over the horizon through some orifice, that it must be sunset. And when the fence turns reddish, and the shadows of objects projected onto her side start slowly sliding down, that it is morning

Lizard girl, understandably, has no real urge to go to the other side of the fence. She knows where she is going, forward, and what she has to do, survive. The top of the fence is a treacherous area, she is aware, because she has seen flying creatures swoop down on incautious lizards and other unwary animals up there, who barely have time to grunt or squeal before shedding a few drops of their blood and being whisked away, out of view. Not that there aren’t plenty of dangers on her part of the fence! There are hungry snakes, and bigger lizards, poisonous scorpions and tarantulas, toads, and many beasts from the ground below.

Lizard girl isn’t entirely innocent herself, for there has been many a smaller spider, grasshopper, or beetle who, during the course of an otherwise pleasant conversation, has found itself suddenly snapped up, crushed and chewed, and swallowed into her gullet. That must be a somewhat painful experience, I would imagine. Once, she found a small bird, impaled on a nail sticking out, and writhing in agony. She sympathetically licked a bit of its blood off of its feathers, before she sensed danger and scurried beneath it and away. Good thing too, for the shrike flew down to it’s prey, and began to sing its deceptive songbird notes.


Hopeless Little Lizard Boy

Lizard girl is constantly being followed by a smaller, shy but persistent male lizard, who apparently wishes to mate. He is the wrong species, and not very attractive, so he has no chance of consumating the relationship. He is somewhat lacking in a tail, inasmuch as lizard girl has bitten it off during their first encounter, gobbling it down enthusiastically without so much as a thank you, as if it was some kind of delicious worm. With his tail stump, nerdy protruding eyes surrounded by unsightly pinkish prominences, warty complexion, and silly-looking backwards-facing dorsal crest one is inclined to wonder if he will ever be successful in reproducing. I guess we can call him “hopeless little lizard boy” as that describes him satisfactorily. Fear born from painful experience prevents hopeless from ever getting  too close to lizard girl any more. Someday, when she gets in a better mood, or lets her guard down, then he will make his move. Oh yes, he also has a small mustache because, well, that helps him stand out from the other little male lizards wearing prominences around their eyes and backward-facing dorsal crests. He is in severe danger of coming to an untimely end.


please leave a comment if you want to see the rest of the story.


Tequila Mockingbird Soup. Magic Mage’s Poem in Elucidating Questions

On June 13 2019 Magic Mage wrote this



To bring in the sea’s evening wind the rising tide of the air again

Into the sun’s rays it pours not the rain that the ground pleads for

But the gnashing thrashing pull of the anger of the sea complete with the roar

Not a mind at ease

As it tears across the shores and grips everything hard


Sending birds careening silent confused from trees

The rattling rattles the swinging swings

The trees screaming into the silent swiftness


But it brings none

Another day without a drop the ground craves

The plants beg

The sun’s rays fade into the evening which does not rain

The grass remembers a balance the yellow cries into the dry whipping winds

Something falls


An undertow lashes in

The summer storm without rain

While the setting sun sets innocently



We did this to ourselves

The summer storm with no rain

Not even the hopes of it tethering us down


I really like this poem

I like the way Magic Mage thinks. And this poem is much less personal, all the usual rage and despair has been absorbed by Nature, which surely can endure it.


And so, I woke up at 3:30 in the morning, and thought:


These are the concerns of the nymphs of the place.

Slender ephemeral beings, boyish yet feminine creatures bound to the earth.

Spawn of some higher gods or demigods.

They despair, but are unconcerned with the far away consequences, with what happens if the butterfly does not flap its wings here.

Would they rejoice in the hard rain, and consequent inundation, being ignorant of, or not caring about the floods and catastrophes for peasant hovels, for comfortable towns, and powerful kingdoms washed away into obscure history?




But What About the Muse?


I would rather, you know, have kept on sleeping. Why did such a poem inspire me at all? Is there some magic, inexplicable connection between us that somehow elicits such creative impulses?

Perhaps I have created, in my mind, a virtual similitude of what I imagine her to be, and tasked it (or better “her” even though it is only nervous impulses in reality) with stimulating my sluggish lazy brain to novel intellectual activity?

Why, of course! She must be a muse! My muse, oh my gosh. How did such a thing happen? I think I wanted it to happen, but I had read…like….hundreds of blogs, and only liked Magic Mage’s (and a couple of others to a lesser extent).

Muse. Hmmmmm….what kind of gig would that be? How much does it pay? Is there a college major in it? Can you put it down in your resume?

And MY muse. Think of the implications of that! Is she, during her muse shifts, required to do my bidding for muse-related tasks? Will she keep me company when I get lonely, and fix me chaga tea with cinnamon when I need a pick-me-up?

                                          Greek Muses by awitchkitty on DeviantArt

(by awitchkitty)

Which muse would you be, if you could be a muse? Polyhymnia? Erato? I suspect you might choose a hybrid: Melpomena-Erato-Polyhymnia. It’s funny, I don’t see myself as being a muse. But some people have told me I inspired them. Where are they now, I wonder?

Muse Intimacy: Don’t Get Embarrassed, or Yes, Get Embarrassed

There isn’t, now, a real girl in my life, or even any other real sort of person at all. I’m certainly not a real person, probably. But now, hurray, I have a Muse, a real muse, even if she is just an imaginary virtual avatar. Now I can explore intimacy in ways that never were possible before. I can put my hands under her armpits, and feel her stubble there, and taste her sweat. I can join her on the toilet, invading her mind. I will know what special thoughts she has then, and enjoy the smell of her crap. It smells like perfume!

But can your muse abandon you? I have read that that frequently happens. So I must respect my muse, even worship her. But not too much, that would be tedious, and probably annoy her.

Come to think of it, what power might my muse wield over me? Will I have to reorganize my thoughts, habits, and activities? Will I have to wear pants while watching TV, and not play with my balls so frequently? I guess I’d have to give up blowing my nose on my t-shirt. Will I need to dedicate certain times and objects to her, sometimes even whole works?

It might be best to just forget about her. After all, I don’t really want to change anything, actually. I’m not sure I need a muse. I am secure in my lonely isolation.

So, Magic Mage, goodbye. Oh, by the way, I know I told you I was a white-haired old man living in the desert. In reality, I am a 30-year-old bisexual captain in the Icelandic Special Forces. Two meters tall, blonde, piercing blue eyes, and with many lovers and illegitimate children. I am quite popular, strong, healthy, talented, good-looking, and everybody loves me.


Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m certain I would reject you in real life, but not after using you. I would never use you and abandon you, because I would reject even using you.

No no no no, that is lies, sad, pathetic, despicable lies, I am an old man in the desert, and I love you, and wish I could have you in my dreams.

Good luck! (I feel your presence, and it makes me cry)

magic mage-poster.png

(magic mage girl) Summer 2019

Programming: Deprogramming, Reprogramming, Unprogramming: An Outline

This is, obviously, the outline of the story, not the story itself. If you want the story, somebody has to comment, and that’s that forever.



Originally, this was a pretty cool story intro that got deleted by WordPress. Even though it was up for a long time, nobody ever read it, or its neighbor in time about Nekko and the Black Goddess. It will be painful to reconstruct, and the context which inspired it has been lost and forgotten. Still, it’s based on an idea. On the other hand, the research notes have been lost, as well as the recollection of a large number of relevant writings.

Maybe writing the outline will make it easier to recompose the story. Didn’t work for Out of the Foam (which by the way nobody has read, either) but it’s worth a try. I still have to do “research.”


I hope, once I have written the actual story, that I will remember to delete this outline.


basic premise

All existence has been programmed, and there are PROGRAMMERS who keep the universe functioning. (PROGRAMMERS are the transcendental beings, while we refer to the student programmers as Student-Programmers or even students). They are not gods, just super-powerful game programmers. This particular story is about Eva, a young girl who has “somehow” ended up in a programming facility, henceforth referred to as the FACILITY, and is learning about game programming on multiple levels. She needs to get to level 6, in order to program people and reality as she knows it. She is an expert at level 0, which is just making electrons go where you want them to, kinda. She is good at level-1, programming 2-dimensional representations of reality, linear-sequential type games with no AI or plots, where the characters have no self-awareness, where story lines and dialogue are simple and straightforward.

Level-2, she hasn’t exactly mastered, but understands what her limitations are, and is making real progress. She has to build a world and characters in three dimensions, as well as including a time constraint (so it’s really 3.5 dimensions), and the environment has it’s own mind. So there is a bit of AI. Characters are more complex, they sometimes follow different paths than the PLAYER would wish, but they are simple models, without internal organs, or inherent needs. The game-programmer gives them motivations, designs their appearances, and devises algorithms for their realistic survival. The stories here can get really tricky, as at this level the players interact SUBSTANTIALLY with each other and the Environment.

She’s having real trouble at level-3, where characters have more complex interactions, between themselves, the environment, and other entities. Time is more than just a constraint, it is a functional imperative. Different environments interact not only with each other, but with the internal workings and motivations of the characters. The storylines at this level sometimes start writing themselves, based on a kind of probability theory. NPCs and characters have to be three-dimensional, they move forward and up and down, and they can die without the PLAYER causing, or wishing, it.

The story will develop what the higher-level programming tasks will mean, and be like.

It turns out, that even though Eva is failing Level-3, she has a talent for Level-4. Let’s not talk about Level-4 just yet, except to say that now times interact with other times. Whatever that means we shall see.


a beginning

Now, in the story, all this programming Level discussion is only gradually revealed, during its course, and as necessary to understand what’s going on.

In fact, at the beginning, the reader knows nothing, except that there is a hideous pile of bubbling goo, exhaling a putrid yellowish vapor, in the middle of a well-lit room. Eva is crying. The goo is moving. It is wearing some kind of clothing, and bones and appendages and organs writhe around. Where the “head” should be is a plastic doll with rapidly blinking eyes, and a hypodermic jammed in an ear. Eva sobs “Dania, no no, I’m so sorry!”

A voice comes down from a speaker near a camera up high on a wall. “Eva, that’s not what you’re supposed to be doing now! Go, at once! Return to your quarters.”

Eva can see the being making the voice, behind the transparent wall. It is the PROGRAMMER, her teacher. It is tall, robed, but strangely formless, holding up several tentacles, one of which holds the microphone device. Eva must obey.

Eva had failed yet again at programming a major character for her game idea, “How I Died.” She probably shouldn’t have attempted Level-4 before gaining more skill at Level-3, but she hated Level-3. At Level-4 she had an innate instinct, and had success with ordinary objects, energy flows, environmental features, and lower animal designs. It was just that she couldn’t install intelligence or emotion into important characters. Somehow, she just wasn’t able to squeeze them into her imagined reality. They always just decomposed horribly in the atmosphere, writhing in pain, and diffused out all over the place. In fact, Dania was her best attempt. The biologics were a nightmare.

Eva returned to her tank-like enclosure, and dissolved into its welcoming substrate. She did most of her best thinking as a warm, swirling, pinkish fluid.

Let’s take a look at the Programming Facility (remember, the FACILITY) where these events are transpiring.



From an external perspective, there is a pitch-black background of a space filled with extraordinarily bright star-like objects, scattered and spinning about irregularly, while slowly rotating in various vague groups or constellations, spiraling into and around about a void even darker than the space. Eva’s FACILITY appears to be a rotating chaotic mass of sparks, tubes,  flares, wires, flashes, and oscillating lights of all colors. It is huge. As you come closer, you become aware that there are beings moving through the tubes, and that there are thousands of chambers which seem to be housing little cosmoses of their own. The PROGRAMMERs are clearly visible as indescribable beams of light, hovering in different parts of the facility. They look much different to the students who are interacting with them. Even though they manifest as light beams to external observers, they leave no shadows. To the students, however, they are robed three-dimensional features with normal shadows. Don’t forget about “the shadows!”


a plot feature: “Programming”

The students, unbeknownst, are being programmed by the PROGRAMMERS. Of course, it is well-known that education is a system of programming (or socializing) young people, or anybody really. Gurus and priests are kind of spiritual programmers. SEE where the “Programming” in the title comes from. The PROGRAMMERS are programming the Student-Programmers to program their realities, as games. The question to ask, though, is “Who is playing these games.” Well, seemingly it’s supposed to be the Student-Programmers, but as they are being programmed to program games for some higher-level players, it’s fair to wonder.


spoiler: “Deprogramming, Reprogramming, and Unprogramming”

The Student-Programmers have all been sent to the FACILITY to be cleansed of their prior programming, so that they can be useful for the PROGRAMMER’S objectives. This is the “Deprogramming.”

In order to effectively program their realities, to achieve realistic playable games, the Student-Programmers need to be re-programmed during their training. This is the “Reprogramming.”

“Unprogramming” is extinction from the universe, leaving not even a trace or memory. Who would want that? Again, it is fair to wonder.


Eva’s friends

Since this is supposed to be a story, to fill it out, and make it more interesting, there are other Student-Programmers whom Eva is allowed to make friends with. They are all making their own games. Later, they will become characters in Eva’s higher-level games, as well as each others’.


Eva’s backstory

Eva’s first Level-4 game is supposed to be a recreation of an ideal backstory for Eva herself. She doesn’t realize this for a long time. When she notices the pattern in her friends’ programming (that they are also building their own ideal backstories) she becomes alarmed. The PROGRAMMERS have been lying to everybody.


Eva’s higher-level programming


wtf? is everything really just a game?


the PLAYERS, the PLAYED, and the PLAYERS of the PLAYERS



On Green Magic

green magic-expanded


I like to say the fiction that has most influenced my path is Green Magic by Jack Vance.

There is nothing in the story that would explicitly explain this. It isn’t even a particularly well-written story. I barely recommend reading it! No quotes, no events, just a ….. I wanna say “theme” perhaps, a sense of human insignificance, cluelessness, and an imaginary potential that will never, can never, be achieved.

It’s kind of like saying you were influenced by some little birds flying in and around some shrubs. It isn’t the birds or the shrubs, it’s something much deeper.

The story is about an accomplished mage who, while going through the effects of his disappeared uncle, discovers references to Green Magic. He uses some techniques to contact the plane of Green Magic. Two of the residents are horrified at the pollution and profane disturbance the mage’s effort have caused, and contact him in order to get him to stop. No, he must learn Green Magic. The Denizens of the Green Dimension (let’s call it) are strictly bound not to cause any harm to him, even though they could dissolve him in an instant, so they are compelled to agree.

He struggles through the training, it requires thousands of years. He only makes minimal progress, though he has learned more than everyone on earth through all the ages. His Green Magic is pitiful, and he realizes that even millions of years of additional training won’t make it much better. He wants to give up, and go back home.

Of course, THEY expected this development, and send him back. Now our mage has acquired a rarified sensibility for phenomena and an impossibly demanding ascetic sense. Human food seems worse than excrement, the air foul and toxic, he cannot tell the difference between beautiful women and ugly ones. He is powerful, but his powers seem useless, not even worth using.

It would be a spoiler to reveal the rest, but anyway, whatever point I wanted to make has been made, but it isn’t explicit, and if you don’t get what it is, you probably never will.


Tequila Mockingbird Soup


I wanted to talk about Mocking Birds. They’re mean little critters. Their singing gets really annoying, and why oh why do they do it? It doesn’t seem to involve sexual courting, because you always just see the one mockingbird singing and never any others nearby to indicate anybody is paying attention. That goes against the energy conservation principle of natural behavior. They shouldn’t be wasting so much time and effort on an activity that doesn’t involve finding food or mating.

In Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird Atticus is made to say it is a sin to kill a mockingbird cause all they do is sing prettily and never bother anybody.

I’m calling bullshit. First off, if I wasn’t a vegan, and if all there was to eat was mockingbirds, I’d kill em and consume em fer sure. Pluck em, disembember em, and cook em upp fer sanniches and soup.

Just watch them, with your naturalist’s eyes.

They chase other birds, and pester them, for no apparent reason. Many many times I’ve spied crows getting attacked by mockingbirds. And other large birds too. They just seem to delight in demonstrating their superior maneuverability.

A few times, I’ve been dive bombed myself! I wondered if they just wanted to make nesting material out of my long black hair (back in the day, it’s long white hair now), or maybe I was too close to their nests, which I imagined must be up high, way out of reach anyway.

They are noisy, and their songs are stupid, and repetitive, and make no sense. Sometimes they even mimic car alarms!

I’d like to know how they learn their songs. I’ve sang in front of them, and they never mocked ME!

They are quite quarrelsome whenever they get together. Then they don’t sing, but rather make sounds similar to distressed squirrels. And how they fight!

Once, I was watching a squirrel walking along, minding its own business, up on a power line. Without any sort of aggravation, a mockingbird swooped down and knocked it off the wire, onto a bush below.




(Pay attention, this concerns you).


aum image

Friggin Pixies Get Outta My Head! (seemingly) Undesired Side-Effects of Meditation

pixiesonstage-mod1Stopped listening to music. Whenever I do, a song, or part of a song, starts playing, over and over, in my brain.

I meditate, and music repetitiously replaying is a distraction.

Some years back, even though I had recognized this as a problem, I was working on a project, and just HAD to hear some Pixies B Side. The following is a cover of a Neil Young song. Kim Deal sang:

I’ve been looking

for a woman

to save my life…

not to beg or to borrrroooooow

a woman….with the feeeling

of loooosing-once-or-twice

who knows how it could be tomorrrooow

I’ve been waiting for you

and you’ve been coming to meee

for such a long time

for such a long time now”


Although I had listened to this CD dozens of times before, because I had foregone music for “such a long time” because of steady meditation practice, I endured a new reaction, which I’m sure many of you have also experienced. The hair on my back stood up, I got chills, and started to weep.

Of course, loneliness and brahmacarya can explain this outcome, perhaps, but a new phenomena began to occur which seriously interfered with my spiritual training.

I lived near the beach, and enjoyed walking meditations. For hours I would walk and attempt to calm my mind, listening only to the waves and the seagulls, and seeing only what was in front of my eyes.

                                The Soundtrack

It isn’t just music that repeats endlessly, it can be thoughts or sounds or images or even somatic phenomena. In fact this is a potential problem for all meditators. But after a decade and a half of meditation I thought I had learned to deal with these distractions. If I remember a song I can suppress, or overwhelm it with japa. Apparently my skills don’t apply to music listened to, whether at home or even at a store or in somebody’s car.

Because….if I hear music now, and I….. well first let me give a little information about meditation, from my point of view, and I’m no expert.

I chose a form of Yoga called Raja Yoga, because it suits my personality. The main, but by no means only, important characteristic is meditation, which includes several stages, and I am sort of between stage one and two. No matter. To me, meditation is learning to quiet the mind in order to grow aware of the reflection of what the Hindu technicians referred to as the “Self.” To me, the Self is part of the machinery of consciousness. When you can quiet the mind, you can observe yourself and all your parts and activities dispassionately. You can understand phenomena and health issues and even other people and of course get insight into how you think and feel. This is not only a useful, but a profoundly satisfying activity.

After years and years of at first lazy, then less lazy, and gradually more intense and focused practice, I found myself changing. There is too much to unpack about “changing” but here I want to analyze, for my own edification, the changes I don’t particularly care for, in my ignorance.

Like the soundtrack, which plagues me whenever I hear music I’m familiar with. It just endlessly loops in short snippets. And if the music has any emotional significance, like “Waiting for you,” it spawns assorted memories and regrets and whatever, and I find that instead of meditating I find myself struggling to quiet the fucking soundtrack. Now, japa is the repetition of a mantra, and of course even a mantra could be distracting. I tried repeating pranav OM in rhythm with the waves and found that while I was thinking or saying OM the music fell into the background but when I stopped it came back again. Of course, I tried just listening to the waves. I guess a more skilled practitioner could focus on just natural sounds for a whole meditation walk, but it was difficult for me, and it was effective only after great exertion, and exertion is not conducive to good meditation.

Now I avoid listening to any kind of music, and have learned to filter out the (usually crappy) music they play in stores. Christmas time really sucks though.

                       Increasing Social Dysfunction

Obviously, a person planning on meditating until the terminal phase would like peace and quiet and freedom from distractions. People, including family and friends, are terribly distracting. It is difficult to meditate when everybody around you intrudes, taking up part of your time, part of your life. People argue, and do bad things, and gradually I just withdrew from all social company. It can be trying to attempt normal conversations. I get manic, super hyper and dominating in all discussions, and apparently have developed an annoying self-certainty that not even I would tolerate in anybody else. I am aware of this, and able to control myself, but sometimes I just get caught up in the flow of words, and force my opinions out into the world.

A cool thing about the skills gained from meditation, is now I can see myself and what I do from an external perspective. I am apparently a jerk, but good-hearted and “wise-seeming.” I am absolutely certain in my path, and allow little deviation, officially, but in reality as much as I hate to admit it I still have many human failings.

I am attracted to the lost and unfortunate, the solitary and insane.

      The Universe is Flinging Odd Happenings at Me

Well, not dangerous events, or necessarily unpleasant situations, unless I (mis)interpret them that way. I noticed how the flow of life has been modified. Where I once found insult and aggravation, I now see the Hand of “God” behind everything. Seeming catastrophes transform into blessings. Simple walks or hikes have discoveries and moral lessons. It never ends. There was this vision of Ganesh (see “why i blog”) and subsequent multiple, intense, brilliant insights and inspirations accompanied by insomnia, loss of appetite, slight nausea and the kind of shakes and headaches you suffer when you drink too many espressos. It took me many years to learn how to “turn off the switch” and revert to normal, centered, calm existence.

                       I See my Own Impending Death

It’s coming, and I am not afraid. I have chosen my moment. Taking responsibility gives me great power.

                       Brahmacarya: A Sexless Life

For decades I realized eventually I would have to give up sex. I LIKE sex. I still get horny, and erections, and like pretty girls, though even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t have sex with them because I am brahmacarya, which is to say I have renounced intimate relationships both because they are unacceptable distractions and because in rejecting them I gain a kind of spiritual power (but sometime I wished I had chosen a more tantric path).


I tried, for ethical reasons, to give up meat a few times. I just cannot support the horrible way humans treat all the other creatures. Now I am vegan most of the time. I feel bad when I relapse, but that is only occasionally for milk, or cheese, or eggs. Sometimes at restaurants a little chicken, or squid, or shrimp. Most of the time all my food is non-animal-based.

                                       Is it Worth It?

Yeah, I guess. I miss sex and drugs and alcohol. I miss friends and being with family. I “hate” (a word I had sworn to give up using, but see how it crops up willy-nilly in the vernacular) having this broken-record phenomena bothering me if I just listen to one goddam Pixies song. I miss having the kind of life I had before. I miss Steaks and Hamburgers and Ribs.

But all of the things I miss, according to the Exchange Principle of Modern Magic (POMM), are compensated for by the gain of certainty for my spiritual path.

aum image


more why blog? (based on a comment to “The Electric Oracle)



Some people maybe blog because they are lonely, and starved for genuine conversations, especially regarding topics they are interested in.


“Conversations with ME just aren’t possible, possibly due to some Cosmic force of which I am both the victim and creator of.” Yeah, that was the comment, obviously oh so self-centered and oblivious. She and I started following each other after we began blogging at around the same time in 2017. She gained, like, 1,234 more followers, I one, not counting a few spammers.

To try to increase traffic, back in Summer 2017, I had visited and commented on about 150 blogs. After a slight pulse, things went quickly back to…nothing. I tried it again recently, and found the same thing happening.

My conclusion is that conversations with me are impossible. Bloggers just don’t want to engage in interactions with people who might disagree with them, or be unpleasant.

This is something that I have realized over and over, again and again, over the years. The reason I am to blame is because I know that my “self-realization” requires focus and meditation and avoidance of distractions of all types.

But it is still so lonely. I’ve been driven deeper and deeper into isolation, and of course, that is fine. Except it isn’t always. Since there is rarely much connection with locals, a person blogs in hopes some sympathetic intellectual/spiritual relationships might be found electronically. Those sorts of links have never manifested.

Another reason people blog, and not just me I’m sure, is mental masturbation. It’s all about chemicals: neurotransmitters, serotonin, dopamine, hormones, adrenaline, endogenous opioids, testosterone, those kinds of things. Writing and then transmitting the words to a place where potentially millions of people might read them is stimulating, mental masturbation. This has become obvious in reading a few dozen almost impossibly erudite and eloquently composed blogs about specialized topics that go on and on for pages, seem to have no purpose other than to show off that the blogger is brilliant (which she or he certainly seem to be), and are full of jargon which only a few people would be able to understand, and references to works only a few people would have read.

They are beautiful works of critical art, because like art, their only reason for existing is as a kind of representation of sublime concepts. There are millions at least of such works which, unfortunately, unlike statues and paintings (but to some degree possibly music, which is another story), only endure as electron paths in ephemeral media. Casual passerby generally have little access to them, because they aren’t in the habit of checking out random strange sounding blogs, and even interested people get put off by the obscure, practically unintelligible dense verbiage.

Authors get the same enjoyment from their compositions as artists from their works. Secretions of pleasure- and pain-stimulating neurochemicals. Nerves connected to sex-associated parts of the brain. Mental masturbation.

There is no criticism intended here, this all is right, and extremely human. Something similar “explains” much of human behavior, after all………..

But, and here is the crux of this whole article, WHY does it have to be such a solitary endeavour? The conversations I have come (in the case of commenting to blogs)  across are usually just positive affirmations, or in-group crypticism. If blogging is a kind of sexual expression, I guess what I seek is dyadic intercourse, not self-gratification.

And what was the point of all this writing, here and now, if it isn’t just to remind myself of the reasons why I’m so isolated?

WELL MAYBE….another reason for blogging or writing is to try and crystallize and better understand one’s own thinking, and figure out how to express and bring ideas out of the mind and force them into reality.

The Magic Modernization Project (MMP) proposes to improve the agency of intelligent entities in the 21st century by rationalizing what is an obsolete magical tradition by means of modern and state-of-the art scientific theory and practice, technology, and mathematics and statistics.

The Principles of Modern Magic (POMM) are currently (expect future additions and modifications):

1.) Consciousness and Intentionality are primordial sources of a kind of magical energy.

2.) Obsolete magical philosophies are either ineffective or only effective for reasons external to their own theories.

3.) Social Magic combines and augments individual Intentionalities.

4.) There is a Principle of Exchange, or Conservation of energy and substance.

5.) Mathematics, Probability, and Statistics have their role in Magic theory and practice.

6.) Technology is a useful component of a system of magic.

7.) Astrology needs to be replaced by an astronomy-based and cosmology-based New Cosmic Magic.

8.) Dimensional structure and processes need to be taken into account.


Maybe……just maybe, some people blog to try and make things happen!


pounding fist

Reviewed several hundred blogs on Reader. Blogging ain’t gonna work! 10,000 followers would not be any help. I guess my projects are vanity projects just like everybody else’s.

But still, The Magic Modernization Project is very important, and worth following through on.

But still, the GO MAGA! political role-playing game designed for psychological manipulating the hackers is worth doing.

But still, everybody is out there, and nobody but me is in here.

I give up on chasing comments and followers, again, just like I did two years ago.

Thanks WordPress, for deleting most of my stuff!

Where oh where will I find the motivation? Time for a bit of Pranayama in the Desert Wasteland.

I have to assume that I wasn’t kidding, about the one person reading the blog, maybe after I’m dead. I wasn’t kidding when I commanded the readers of About Pytho Black to unlike, unfollow, and never read the blog again. I remember now, I think, that that is what I truly desired. And so: It came to pass! That’s modern magic, I guess.

But I will need a new motivation beyond that. If it was left up to me, whichever me it is right now, I would meditate until I die. Meditate until gradually the body just isn’t there any more.

Different “I’s” need to stop fighting with the diverse “Me’s” or nothing but meditation will ever get done.

My next post, therefore, will be A Review of the Principles of Modern Magic. If nobody reads the blog, then it will be a good place to safely store The Magic Modernization Project!


(I just forgot, but I had figured it out in 2017).

The Flask

[[I want, ever so much want, to write this story, but it will be very difficult, and will probably take too much time and effort, as well as be a gross distraction from my main path. What follows will not be the story, but will be its outline, sort of a placeholder to come back to when I have more time and motivation. Lazy, fucking lazy, I appreciate lazinesss, but there is so much to do before I die…]]]

The Flask, a Work in Progress

Basically, about a pinkish fluid swirling in a flask. According to the Principles of Modern Magic (POMM) from the Magic Modernization Project (MMP) “Consciousness” is not a unitary phenomena, but a syncretic manifestation of numerous separate phenomena integrated for a common purpose, or “Intention.” “Sparks” of Consciousness come together, forming little machines or agents which interact with the wider environment in various ways. The whole of a certain set of phenomena we can call “organism.”

Sensory devices develop, as well as tools for physical manipulation and a system for utilizing energy (food consumption and respiration, for example). Flows within the organism perform numerous functions, like blood circulation and metabolism and enzymatic biocontrol, behavior, stimulus-response, emotion and even thinking.

The organism must have a kind of shell or outside covering to separate it from the external environment, to hold it together, as a kind of substrate for motion and interaction. The whole organism operates as a unit while at the same time numerous other subunits are functioning, maybe thousands of them. The central consciousness is barely aware of this multiplicity. As an example, a human cannot conceive of the skin, heart and organs, bones, appendages, brain, and so on as separate entities. They are all part of what the person conceives to be “Me.”

The pinkish fluid swirling in the flask is only part of the “Flask Organism,” but in this story it plays the role of the central consciousness of the organism. How does it interact with the organism’s various components? How does it interact with the external world? Can an entertaining story be derived out of these basic premises?

<<<<The lazy blogger requires motivation to go beyond the simple introduction. Please leave a comment to get this story written!>>>>>>