In Anticipation of Friday’s Lecture on Apocalyptic(ism): This is Why You Love Me (TM)
Shem, Ham, and Japheth had a nasty chastity and disorganization day. Fortunately Japheth couldn't make it and Shem Shem and Hamster Dance got to invoke the last five Caesars on the Isis tip. The tip-top timid iunx spun dopplerwise uniting this world and the next, the imminent and kairotic, the immanent and erotic eschatologic project dripping with the promise of a new prophecy. We'll toss all the cards into the aether and let the universe figure its own shit out, relying on the transmutation of anxiety into angst, the metaphysics of desire. With my heart broken, I'll be operating on a higher, more interesting circuit, or that's the rationalization du jour, the self-abnegation folie à deux. Burn the seven miracle-fed wicks of Mt. Z. at full overblown afterburner goat-song howlings for fat cat and Hecate. Don't neglect the libations. This is where the proto-Christians first went wrong with their rotary telephones and rotisserie chickens, get in the kitchen, says Enoch son of Jared and father of Methuselah, but with a Cajun accent and heavy on the whisker histrionics. I may end up that homeless guy pushing around 17 shopping carts of $300-each books, the jewels preserved in a world that has forgotten everything that matters. THE END OF THINGS IS NEAR! But Jesus doesn't know about it if it's in the ass, baby.