Glyph Trance

6/2/2024 Playing with the Substack about Substack genre

Someone on Substack asked — Why are we compelled to take photos of our reflection?

“True”
Con/Jur/d, 6/2/2024

We got our birthday oysters yesterday
and today remembered a story
about a book, our Ex-wife

bought

with the best title
and we read the first 
few pages, and promptly
went into a Dion Fortune

glyph

trance, where,  the symbol
keeps revealing information
plucked out of silence, like a
midnight black petal, from a
rose that blooms once every

thousand

years, only at night, only at
the crossroads, when you 
speak your name, and for
awhile, you hear the answer
In every breeze and every
knock, and every tumultuous

drop 

of water, and so we assumed
we had read the book, as the 
glyph kept opening, and when
we were asked to report how we
lived day to day at a conference
since the organizer, found it note 
worthy and thought others would

too

we selected the glyph as part of 
the title of our talk, only to discover
we would be on a panel, with the 
author, who had written the book
coined the glyph, constructed
the edifice, we wanted to climb

up

so we read the book, were impressed
and surprised by the content, both by
the mismatches and the conjunctions
between the imaginary book we had 
read, ingested, assayed, and the

true

book - subsequently, we became friends
although, this isn’t about 

THE OUTER COMMUNITY

this is a reminder:

THE WHOLE WORLD IS 

SHOUTING

what you apply your attention to

SHOUTS LOUDEST

be careful -

who wants you to look 
listen, taste, sense?

Do they love you?
Do they love the world?

even, here on Substack
the babel glyph


unfolds
unfolds

revelation after revelation

WE WON'T PRESUME 
TO TELL YOU
WHAT TO
DO

(or what your kink, taste, karma is
or should be)

ASK DOES IT FEED YOU?
WHEN IT SHOUTS
OR GOES


quiet

do you
move
closer

more intimate.

Have been paying attention to all the corporate interactions with their clever — personal quips — so you can believe they’re just humans like you — not impersonal automata consuming everything that makes us human

Flashes of a time before it became like this

THOUGHT THIS WAS FUNNY UNTIL THE HORROR HIT

HYPOCRITE (the problem of attention)

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 6/2/2024

BLAKE’S ANGEL FACES MODERNITY

LOVE HATE MUSIC BOX was released on my birthday (If you want to see the threads to this story)

And if you keep pulling those threads, they’ll lead to some glorious places:

Lyrics from the RSK chorus of the song John Woo:

You're low, John
Fly up
See doves, John, ooh
John Woo
You're low, John
Fly up
See doves, John
John Woo, ooh

Back to your regularly scheduled rabbit hole (in the head)