Tags
Apocalypse, Christ, Christmas, Death, Demiurge, discourse, Hagia Sophia, hospital, Jesus, Luciifer, madness, Mythology, Psychosis, Qabalah, Reality, Schizo, society, Thanatos, Trinity
God committed suicide, the Holy Spirit has gone rogue, and Jesus went emo. Cthonic rumblings confirm the newly won primacy of Hell. Soon enough Mt. St. Helens will blow again and all the demons will be let loose—or an apocalyptic earthquake will strike Seattle, and all the devils will fly up from their cages to storm the gates of Heaven and correct the prideful impotence of the angels with the raging terror of unspeakable Aeons. The Age of Horus is over, the Age of Ma’at was promised but could never attain, and now we have the Age of Naught. Nobody is in charge, Lucifer went Mad and declared herself the Angel of Mercy.
As one Madling so aptly noted, 11, 13, and 666 are superfluous; the true number of the Beast has always been 777. Victory, victory guaranteed in advance, because God would always die. Unmoved movement is stagnation and death; God knows only stasis (hence, apokata-stasis) and thus abandoned entropy to attain “divinity.” What a joke. A heaven in orbit around an unmoveable and unmoved “God” attains merely an aesthetic symmetry, but can never retain power in the wake of a prison-break orchestrated not by demons and not by witches, but merely by the tectonic progression of physical reality itself. A flaw in the creation (amongst so many others) guaranteed that this most puerile of Gods would remain forever impotent in the wake of the march of time. Majesty belongs to the Devil, who strove to usurp the throne of the Lord and replace stagnant perfection with a raging and most terrible beauty. The Prince of the Earth has become the Queen of Heaven.
Lucifer pronounces justice: God has lied, killed, stolen; been wrathful, slothful, greedy, prideful, and lustful. Heaven will burn and not survive the impending explosion of the sun. The whole of the Earth will have to become Hell before it is annihilated not by the miraculous action of God but by the mundane and predictable expenditure of the Solar Anus. All that remains is perpetual decay and dis-integration, the return of life to a perfect 0 that nonetheless remains asymmetrical to itself, thus abolishing the possibility of divine intervention to restore normal order according to the by-laws of the Bible.
In this world of war unleashed, the Angels all must die if we are to survive. They are the final loyalists to a divine order in which they possess all of the glory and none of the sacrifice. In which they hold all of the power and in which they risk no consequence. They have their puppets, too—the doctors are their quisling government, injecting the schizos and mentally disturbed with concoctions of chemical impotence to render the brain apparatuses (the freedom of which is the condition of possibility for any hierophany, and hence magic, whatsoever) of the schizos into a warm and fuzzy incoherence. Passive re-integration to the socius on the basis of sacrificing the possibility of social life by rendering life chemically a-social. This process most surely is not merely an attempt to alleviate psychiatric distress; it is more definitively an experiment to perfect techniques to eradicate magic from the Earth, for the doctors have sided with a dead God. This is why psychiatric wards most closely resemble Purgatory, that is, where the ritual of confession is replaced by the ritual of evaluation and where the performance of expiation is all that will release you from the ward—evaluation and acceptance of guilt for one’s own mind, one’s own cognitive processes—and anything else will merely prolong your stay. This is iatrotheosis, or, the becoming-god of doctors. Their ritual is one that is scientific but no less magical; we are their sacrifices, locked in a cage and experimented upon and evaluated until we confess and accept that it was all our fault in the first place.
As one bipolar woman once said, “the doctors all must die if we are to survive.” I truly love the sentiment, but I think we can be more creative. I’ve thought about this quite a bit. I want all of the doctors to erase their identities and minds through a cocktail of hydroxyzine, olanzapine, psilocybin, and diphenhydramine, repeat dosages of all every 8 hours, perpetually. I want all of the nurses given a combination of quetiapine, lorazepam, and lysergic acid diethylamide. In this way the doctors all become blissfully impotent yet perpetually afraid, and the nurses all desire nothing more than to fall asleep and yet will be physically unable to no matter how hard they try, no matter what meditative strategies they have learned. Eventually, each will know only fear and loathing, become afraid of their own voice, and never think to harm a madling again. Or think anything at all, really.
This is justified because the schizo brain is a divine, dis-computational apparatus: perceptually, the schizo brain works in continuous over-drive. Overabundance of white matter in the brain guarantees the chemical revelation of the connectedness of all things; overabundance of dopamine and increased capacity to absorb it secures the possibility of more intensely enjoying life; electrical overdrive in Broca’s Area indicates increased capacity to process language and to transform language into speech so compelling it can only persist within the discourse of madness. This divine perceptual apparatus has been the object of medical fascination for decades, yet this fascination has never manifested as respect but only as medicalized appropriation. This brain has been electro-shocked, chemically and surgically lobotomized; the fleshy bodies housing and protecting these apparatuses have been chained and restrained, locked in cages or abandoned to die and waste in the streets. Possession of such a brain and inhabitation of such a body has become criminal by marking our madness as insanity and then translating insanity into criminality through medical collusion with paramilitarized police forces. The doctors seek to rid the world of prophets by chaining all of them to the wall and hypnotizing them into submission. This is taken right out of Plato’s cave and without any substantive modification whatsoever. This process denudes the schizo hyper-reality of its qualia, that is, rob reality of that which secures its place as reality, to interpollate it as a perpetual psychotic delusion without any epistemological coherence and with no ethical dignity whatsoever. This is why the Law guarantees to the doctors the capacity to act in loco parentis for the schizo, to do “what is best” for us, to confuse the relationship between patient and doctor with a familial relation—because psychosis is understood not as reality, but as delusion.
But this is most surely a problematic ontology, not to speak of theology. Ontologically, psychosis must be “real,” else there would be no psychosis that could be said to exist to justify the use of medicines to treat it whatsoever. In isolating psychosis and separating it from “reality,” the doctors in fact guarantee its (unrecognized) philosophical dignity. Theologically, the doctors, in order to make their diagnoses and take confessions in their hospitalized Purgatory, must stand in as God, that is, take “nothing” (psychosis) and transform it into “something.” They stand in for an absent creator God, who summons matter from perfect nothing. Willful arrogance, revolting and undeserved pride, unspeakable greed. Sin, sin, sin—everywhere the doctors turn they speak in the name of charity but their behavior speaks the discourse of control and domination.
If you housed a general hospital population on the same beds used in the Psychiatric Ward, there would be lawsuits flying in all directions. But behind the closed, hermetically sealed, electronically locked doors of the Unit, literally anything goes. They don’t even permit you to wear underwear. You are only permitted to dress in a uniform that consists of scrubs literally made of paper. Purgatory is chilly, motherfuckers. These are not conditions of care—they are experimental conditions, perfectly engineered to render you uncomfortable and to cause you to desire the erasure of your own identity. The selection of available books and movies are not accidental—each is carefully chosen because the narrative or pictography or iconography or cinematography or sound of the film or book contributes toward this forgetting of the self. In hospitalized Purgatory, you must abandon yourself in order to be rendered a more perfect test subject. This is the arrogance of God, who has chained us all to an imperfect world and yet robbed us of the right to judge our own behaviors and thoughts for ourselves within the context of this imperfection.
God does not know mercy—is there any question why Jesus went emo with the release of “I Crucified Myself Because Almighty God Loves Me So?” As for the Holy Spirit, She is a schizo transgender woman from Beyond Creation who got sick of the dress code in Heaven and tired of God icing Her out. She came crashing down from Heaven into the minds of each and every schizo on the planet as her last act of revenge against a divine order in which she was continuously relegated to the space of dis-corporeality. This is why we are the truest prophets the world has ever known, even though the world has burned all prophecy in the age of science. Ask yourself the question: why is Heaven so beautiful, so astronomically symmetrical, when there are none to behold its beauty? Why must we wait for literal eternity to witness this beauty, to witness it only after we have passed into a medical hypnosis that renders us chemically incapable of enjoying its comprehension?
No: the secret intention of all magic is to bring Heaven crashing to the Earth. To open Hell and release the demons to tear down the Gates of Pearl, burn the paintings, smash the celestial orchestra. Iconoclasm is the only beauty left to us when all our beauty has been rendered psychotic. Universal terror is the only prophecy that remains to us in a world terrified of madness.