Smashan Aleyrac Fall 2009 [...] The problem is simple or not is not. I refused to believe and accept the simple act of physical love as justification for all the noise is happening around him. We are not animals. We do not do that in public. We know the shame. However, modesty, what is it if the voice of conscience that compels us to hide illegal activity. Why illegal? Because it contains a contradiction between human nature and aspirations, fundamental. He is obliged to meet its needs, but he hides them. He wants to give the impression that they do not exist. It is already this ethereal substance to which the ambitions are innate. More man distances himself from the animal in his mind, more the contradiction with his nature becomes acute, the longer it takes to camouflage its instincts. And how can they hide better than minimizing them? Explaining that a simplistic way. Than spreading them openly, as they are no more, long time.
Even then I suspected, in the dark garden near the Monte Palatino: any sexual immorality of our time is really the height of hypocrisy, the completion of false modesty. The breasts girls, sodomy and gangbangs freely exhibited, are only precautions old daughter, like the swimsuits 1900.
is spread over a sexuality that is only half ours. More we present a simple, flat, bestial, the less you will be ashamed. We are not ashamed of a false accusation. However, what is shown in the brothels that have become our streets, is just like our prehistoric instincts. But we are not so simple as that. We want something beyond all that, but we avoid talking about it.
[...] At that time there so I thought of a still rather confused, there was in our body that was hidden abscess gradually rot the world.
This is not a complete covering. Today, nothing can hide it entirely. The world is like the syphilitic primitive. He attributes the wounds a bit more innocuous, less fearful. He prefers to decay to the bites, the reaction of some painful days inevitable in a state also advanced. And above all he is ashamed of what the neighbors will say.
From these premises I considered the extreme modesty of our simplistic reaction time as a criminal. I purposely sought to accustom my eyes to strong light, Cash that made light to penetrate our hell and our purgatory would necessarily be blinding, and even quite dangerous to view.
I was not there yet not prepared enough, the night she broke out before me, there will be nearly ten years ago when I passed through Rome, a message encrypted in my head.
Even then I suspected, in the dark garden near the Monte Palatino: any sexual immorality of our time is really the height of hypocrisy, the completion of false modesty. The breasts girls, sodomy and gangbangs freely exhibited, are only precautions old daughter, like the swimsuits 1900.
is spread over a sexuality that is only half ours. More we present a simple, flat, bestial, the less you will be ashamed. We are not ashamed of a false accusation. However, what is shown in the brothels that have become our streets, is just like our prehistoric instincts. But we are not so simple as that. We want something beyond all that, but we avoid talking about it.
[...] At that time there so I thought of a still rather confused, there was in our body that was hidden abscess gradually rot the world.
This is not a complete covering. Today, nothing can hide it entirely. The world is like the syphilitic primitive. He attributes the wounds a bit more innocuous, less fearful. He prefers to decay to the bites, the reaction of some painful days inevitable in a state also advanced. And above all he is ashamed of what the neighbors will say.
From these premises I considered the extreme modesty of our simplistic reaction time as a criminal. I purposely sought to accustom my eyes to strong light, Cash that made light to penetrate our hell and our purgatory would necessarily be blinding, and even quite dangerous to view.
I was not there yet not prepared enough, the night she broke out before me, there will be nearly ten years ago when I passed through Rome, a message encrypted in my head.
I obviously repeatedly reinterpreted over the years, my meeting with the Baroness Catherine Strahl zu which I would still like to know with certainty what became of her, although I only not much doubt about this. I had the courage to forbid me any research preposterous. However, it is known that the convent was bombed and destroyed during the final push U.S. to subalpine massifs.
The few hours spent with them were too overburdened with bizarre events, too similar to the delirium of a morbid sexuality, for a glimpse of their secret meaning immediately, their metaphysical significance. Besides, I was not a metaphysician penny.
Everything is open to multiple interpretations. I could say for example that I made love with a genuine saint, if I had a tendency sacrilege. I could tell that I'm drunk in the company of a zany who thought he was a saint, if I wanted to simplify the price of a lie.
But in reality it was neither one nor the other.
She was away from holiness, but she was made the sole substance which, under favorable conditions, can produce great mystics. She lived in an extraordinary mental stress, the temperature of his imagination was overheated, but staying far from the imbalance. Her fortitude had the flexibility of a foil blade. How could it otherwise stood the test of that night, demanding that I despite myself, without being fully aware not responsible?
I realize now very well aware that any other creature in the middle of the same crises of consciousness and irregular passions, would become after a few hours absurd crank for good. However, I still remember the comforting and justifies all the hopes: having seen the dawn I left his true nature: a steel blade forged in a burning fire, unbreakable, clear as water and brilliant as day.
The few hours spent with them were too overburdened with bizarre events, too similar to the delirium of a morbid sexuality, for a glimpse of their secret meaning immediately, their metaphysical significance. Besides, I was not a metaphysician penny.
Everything is open to multiple interpretations. I could say for example that I made love with a genuine saint, if I had a tendency sacrilege. I could tell that I'm drunk in the company of a zany who thought he was a saint, if I wanted to simplify the price of a lie.
But in reality it was neither one nor the other.
She was away from holiness, but she was made the sole substance which, under favorable conditions, can produce great mystics. She lived in an extraordinary mental stress, the temperature of his imagination was overheated, but staying far from the imbalance. Her fortitude had the flexibility of a foil blade. How could it otherwise stood the test of that night, demanding that I despite myself, without being fully aware not responsible?
I realize now very well aware that any other creature in the middle of the same crises of consciousness and irregular passions, would become after a few hours absurd crank for good. However, I still remember the comforting and justifies all the hopes: having seen the dawn I left his true nature: a steel blade forged in a burning fire, unbreakable, clear as water and brilliant as day.
If the facts that occurred during those few hours were enough impenetrable by their character who fell at the same time the sexual pathology of the occult and mysticism, very authentic, must add that I did not know all the details necessary for a proper understanding.
samples ROMAN VISION by Gregor Paul , Scorpion Publishing, 1952. You can download the complete pdf version prepared for -Magick Instinct by clicking on the image above.
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