Nov 9, 2017

The Orange Lodge

Chapter House 19

I’m not sure where this all began, but I’ll peg August 21, the day of the Great American Eclipse. That was the day I went to seek therapy about symptoms of depression. I was there at the clinic at the exact time of the eclipse, and I joined some of the staff out on the sidewalk to view the historic event. At least I could be assured that they had the medically approved eye protection, which they kindly shared. 

I hadn’t really planned the visit for that exact date, because the first date offered was Sept. 11 and I felt that I didn’t want my reach-out for therapy to get all synced up with 9/11, so I chose the next one offered, not yet knowing the signs and portents of that day.

My therapy “intake” interview was on Sept. 19. That’s when they get their first look at me, and I sign a bunch of release forms. As I was signing, the case worker volunteered: “Today is the 19th, which is also my dog’s birthday. I have no idea why I just said that.”

I replied: “Well that’s odd, because today is also my dog Oliver’s birthday”. 

Twin dogs, twin stars. Birthdays. It reminded me of Sirius, the “dog star”, which is actually two stars: Sirius A and Sirius B.


My first actual therapy appointment wasn’t scheduled until Sept. 27, and on Sept. 25 I had a dream:

I was a fraternity brother. I was attempting to get all the bro’s packed and ready, we were going on a road trip or something. I was half naked, with nothing on but trainers and an orange polo shirt. It didn’t feel unusual, I wasn’t embarrassed - apparently this was normal attire in this frat. I ran from floor to floor organizing the guys. I paused once at a hall mirror to look at myself critically, because I didn’t really like the shirt and was considering what to wear on the trip. I decided to keep the orange polo shirt after all, it looked good on me.

Fireman

On the 27th I went to meet my new therapist. She was late, so I got to peruse a nice children’s picture book about life in the middle ages, at a baron’s castle. All the soldiers wear the coat of arms of the baron’s family. When I sat down to meet my therapist in her office, her first act was to offer me an orange.

This reminded me of the House of Orange-Nassau, and I considered that orange was the signature color of my dream fraternity.

Fire-lion

On Sept. 30 I read Fraternity Rituals - a homoerotic story set in the basement of the Kappa Sigma fraternity. Have I mentioned yet that I was a Kappa Sig? Though I don’t recall initiation rituals quite like this one.

On Oct. 3, I had another appointment about my depression, and I was given an orange-flowered pen with which to fill out the questionnaire. Note the 3/17 sync.

Then my own birthday arrived on Oct. 11. It was uneventful (besides having dinner at Syren’s Grill) except that  an old frat brother of mine called to wish me a happy birthday. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in over 15 years.

As it turns out, the fraternal order of the Freemasons revere Sirius, they call it the Blazing Star. It shows up in a lot of occult art: the stairway to Sirius.


Note the checkerboard motif as well.

I was also visiting Home Depot a lot because I’m building a small boat in my garage and I’m always scouting for tools and materials. Being duly sensitized to orange via my dream, I notice the signature color of this hardware store. And the orange aprons.

On the square

Masons are famous for their aprons.

Pyramid schemes

So then October 31 rolls around: Halloween. Can’t really think about Halloween without orange.

And on that day, an orange aproned Home Depot rental truck with a large “19” painted on the side, driven by a fellow wearing a black and white checkerboard shirt, plowed into a crowd of Halloween revelers in Tribeca Manhattan, killing 8. 



I note the orange-aproned truck was heading directly toward Ground Zero. Can’t escape the 911 Sync Hole after all.



————————

Notes:

Christopher Knowles and his Secret Sun has been all over the color orange lately.



Just to fuck with me: Orange Porsche 911 w/ balkenkreuz at Bring a Trailer on 10/31/17.

Jun 22, 2017

Sync Tides

Friday's child is full of woe

I think it started a few days ago when I heard a track from Pink Floyd: Dark Side of the Moon playing in some store  and hummed a few bars. Or maybe it started when I happened upon this lovely schooner at the dock named Freda B. (Friday is named after Freda or Freyja, Freia).


Then I got a moon ad this morning via MyFonts news:




But then it got personal, because I got a total bill of $237 at Costco today.


237 is one of the strongest sync attraction numbers, thanks to Stanley Kubrick. His films have been sync analyzed to death, however most agree that Room 237 in The Shining refers to the moon (237,000 miles being the average distance of the moon from the earth), and in 2001: A Space Odyssey, the alien artifact known as the “monolith” is discovered on the dark side of the moon.

This Friday, or Freda’s day, we will witness a “super-moon” that is completely dark. A new moon at perigee.

-----------------

Notes:
Googling “Friday’s Child” I get the eponymous Star Trek episode guest-starring Julie Newmar as the pregnant queen:
The episode's title is derived from a traditional English poem, known as "Monday's Child". The reference is to a line in the poem: "Friday's child is full of woe". Within the episode, the significance is in the unborn child of the planet's murdered ruler, whose prospects of being born depend upon the outcome of Captain Kirk's mission.
The odd thing is that Friday’s child is loving and giving, not full of woe, as Star Trek would tell it. That is Wednesday’s child. Be that as it may, the sync is Julie Newmar, AKA Catwoman. I can’t tell you how many black cat syncs I’ve had lately, and she is certainly one of the most famous. 

Continuing on Star Trek, we note that a black cat is served as “Isis” in the episode Assignment Earth, featuring an alien come to earth to to save mankind from ourselves, so to speak.

Freyja's chariot is pulled by two cats.

6/24 marks the 70th anniversary of the first recorded UFO sighting in Washington State near Mt. Rainier by private pilot Kenneth Arnold. 


Apr 29, 2017

The Missing Link




Taking care of the neighbor’s dog this week. We were given the Missing Link.

I enjoyed the Dogon, dog star, Sirius symbolism of it. The thing is, to a web designer a link is a gate or portal to another website. It’s  instantaneous teleportation through time and space. The original name of a web link is an “anchor” tag, shortened to <a>. It’s the foundation of the web: the most important aspect. 


Today I walked the dog by a lovely piece of garden art for sale. It featured an anchor in the very center of a glass pentacle. I wondered… if I pick it, will it transport me to Sirius?


Apr 1, 2017

The Fifth Element

Been awhile since there has been a post here. Thought I'd change that today. Fool's day and all.

I have this weird thing going on right now because I’ve realized that most of the movies that resonate for me are, in one way or another, a story about the discovery of an all-powerful entity or device that is variously called anti-matter, the tesseract, zero point energy, the god particle, the holy grail, or the fifth element. 

And I have long felt that this secret lies within. Not in mega collective projects, but within our very own skins and minds. We contain that god particle in our selves - no giant machine is necessary unless you believe that a giant machine is necessary - then it is.




Faith is important here. That’s why the Church is important, because it demands faith in something unseen. Technology and movies have replaced the church in the faith business, because their burnt offerings are more “believable”. But it doesn’t remove the centrality of a collective faith as the engine behind it all. If Jesus replaced Zeus, and was then replaced by Science, they are still all birds of a feather - in that they are attempts to explain the inexplicable with absolutes. 

“Thus sayeth the Science!”

Science is a harsh god. It is devoid of empathy or pity to mortals. Or even miracles, unless you think on scales of millions of years. At least Zeus or Jesus was said to listen to prayers. But if your god is a machine then it can’t listen, can it? Oh but wait, now our machines can listen, so now god can listen too. We just need programmers.

It’s rather pathetic. We invent the gods we can believe in. We used to believe in Gods and Titans, and then it was heroes and sacrificial saviors, and now “god” is just cosmic machinery that is programmed by beta-tested belief systems from Hollywood.

It makes me wonder. is the entire universe a faith-based proposition? Do we need to believe in it for it to exist? And what happens when our belief ends? 
“The real world begins where your belief ends.”
-Phillip K. Dick

May 13, 2016

Finn Again


Can't you feel 'em circlin', honey
Can't you feel 'em swimmin' around
You got fins to the left, fins to the right
And you're the only bait in town



Varen is in the habit of naming all our plants in the garden (like Adam). He named a huckleberry after my dad. It was a cutting he took from the grounds of my family beach cabin at Hood Canal - the place was covered with huckleberry bushes. The property was sold shortly after his death, and as we drove away for the last time, Varen impulsively demanded that I pull over, and he ran back to get the scion.

He stuck it in a pot for a few years and then in the ground here in PT, and this spring it finally began to show a bit of new growth. New shoots are “scions” of the old, and I am the scion of my father. Even though Varen named the huckleberry bush “Vern”, it is really me.

He was talking about the huckleberry tonight, and said: “Instead of Huckleberry Finn we have Huckleberry Vern”.


“Finn”, is code for “runaway slave”. It’s from The Golden Bough, and it’s a trifle esoteric and I’ll just assume you already know more about it than I do if you’re reading my incredibly obscure blog, but the most recent popular example is the character Finn from Star Wars, The Force Awakens. James Joyce alludes to it in the title of Finnegans Wake, or “Finn Again”. A repeating archetype.


Oddly enough, a promo email from Class Comics arrived today, promoting the new Mako Finn #2 homoerotic comic now available. Mako has a fin on his dick, and he’s named after a shark, because somewhat like Aquaman, he is the protector of life in the oceans, and he has telepathic communication with sharks.

But the really odd sync is how I bought an old sailboat. A Ranger 20, and now there are apparently five Rangers in the very small town of Port Townsend, and I’ve been hearing about one with a shark’s mouth painted on the bow, and today I finally saw that boat, parked on the side of the road. The Shark Finn is circling… must be blood in the water.


Apr 15, 2016

In the Foothills of Mt. Doom



Last week I met some guy on a dog walk who casually mentioned the date of the eruption of Mt. St. Helens in conversation: May 18, 1980. A few days later I was driving down I-5 to Portland, on the way to look at a sailboat for sale in Oregon City. My companion was a used boat expert,  I invited him along to take a look at the Craigslist find. He was living in Portland in 1980, and vividly recalled the eruption and how he and his family were turned back at the Toutle River as they were driving home, and had to stay overnight in a hotel, the Riverview Inn, I believe.

The boat we went to check out was photographed in front of Mt. Hood, another dangerous volcanic cinder cone. This one is fairly infamous in popular fiction: Mt. Hood lodge played the Overlook Hotel in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining.

After 4 hours of driving we arrived in Oregon City. And then a few miles due east to rolling countryside and the trailer home of the seller. He was an elderly gent who walked with a cane, who’s most remarkable physical feature was his flowing white beard. This began to make a bit of sense when he told us that we were surrounded by Christmas tree farms. The hillsides were covered with orderly rows of little Noble and Douglas Firs.

The boat was sitting in a backyard of several acres, next to the pen full of llamas and alpacas. The owner mentioned how once llamas sold for $60,000 apiece, but now you can hardly give them away.

He also talked about the helicopter harvesting of the Xmas trees. How every year the helicopters would hover overhead all day long, while “little Mexicans” would lasso the bundles of trees and the helicopters would pick them up and drop them into trucks, and then on to global destinations - this was a big business. “Little” as in little elves.

The boat we came to inspect was a wreck. Hardly the “good condition” claimed on Craigslist. It was built in 1980, same year as the eruption. The gelcoat was a faded golden yellow, and it’s name was “Stardust”. A good name for Santa’s sleigh.

It was as if there was a terrible curse on the place. Santa’s castle was reduced to a double wide, his sleigh had been transformed into a derelict sailboat, his reindeer into llamas and his elves into migrant workers.

Today, I’m finishing The Book of the Dead, by Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child, and the climax is set on the slopes of the volcano of Stromboli off the coast of Sicily. The monks called it the Doorway to Hell, in a rather literal translation of Sheol.

How Dianetics. And Lord of the Rings. And Star Wars.

This is the 777th post.
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