|Montsegur- Bertrand Rieger|
We’ve hit a milestone that I thought not possible for this blog of unexpected corners, with essays often over 6,000 words of complexity unheard of, yet in a flow easy to follow. With no advertising, sometimes de-listed from searches. In my previous career, ratings were everything, the overnites from 500,000 to a couple of millions for a broadcast. Things were kept in short segments, the complexity down, retelling the same stories, with just enough tease and cliffhangers to get people to tune in and stay during commercial brakes.
This blog is different; we just rounded 500,000 views, have a lively comment section, at times the best of the internet. Our articles have been translated into 20+ languages, appeared in print, collected millions of views elsewhere, most of all on VT. We cater to an audience quite different from mainstream TV, perhaps as unofficial historians of synarchism, with the breadcrumbs beyond the daily make-believe. All this is done perhaps not out of altruism, but free of charge. As you will hear Jack tell below, this show is going on the road. A grail quest, a journey uncharted, a script of He/She. We’ll post here and on Patreon. Follow along and consider pitching in. – Orage
Back when I was learning how to write on Open Salon, the first thing I learned is that an author is wasting their reader’s time when they are not brutally honest about who they are. A whole school of literary analysis, and rightfully so, has evolved around this all important maxim of communication. It’s called Biographical criticism.
That’s the problem with the Human Race; it has no idea where it came from. As an individual, a Man or Woman can do much better intellectually than the mob by Understanding where what’s being communicated to them is coming from.
When I learned to write well enough, I wrote a book telling my readers exactly who I am. I did not use my name, I did not use any name. I wanted my male readers to understand my character in the book is every man, a part of them, long suppressed and denied but there, always there.
There is an essence in woman that is not of this world either, evidenced enough in the collective idea of the witch. The belief that there is an order of supernatural female beings that stalk the earth and actually embody this idea is as old as time itself and permeates the belief systems of every culture before the advent of the time now remembered. The book Those Who would Arouse Leviathan is an account of what happened when these two quintessential archetypes met.
By the end of 2012 it was done. If you believed what’s in it, and back then I still didn’t, it’s the most important thing ever written. Personally I just thought I’d written a best seller, couched in a language any three digit IQ could Understand and smooth enough to be read on planes, trains and beaches, yet a summary of humanities deepest, darkest secret. When a writer is good enough, like George Berkeley in Principle 93, they know exactly when they have given voice to what was only a vision when they started.
I was done and I would never be the same. I could never go back in the cave with the other chimps. Now I wanted to be compensated, and compensated well for what was a psychologically herculean effort. I read everything I could find on writing a query, then I wrote a better one and sent it to all relevant publishers and literary agents in hard copy; along with a synopsis and partial manuscript, as required by individual submission policies.
It cost me a few hundred dollars, but I figured after the initial expense I could sit back and sell to the highest bidder. All I got back was the self addressed stamped envelopes requested in some submission guidelines for responses. They were stuffed with a form letter politely saying that my manuscript wasn’t for them.
I suspected there was something very wrong, what I’d written was an instant bestseller on just the strength of what I’d said about the “Amityville Horror,” all backed by municipal records. Finally, when the post office left a note on my door to come down and pick up a piece of certified mail, I was certain the worm had turned.
What I got back was my partial manuscript, synopsis and query, certified mail at the publisher’s expense. This is unheard of in the publishing business. The publisher would go broke in a month. Unwanted manuscripts and submissions are discarded. No one takes money out of their pocket for an unsolicited submission, except the party doing the submitting.
In the packet was an interoffice memo dated April 10, 2013 from the office of literary agent Suzanne Gluck to the legal department of the Morris Agency which is the gold standard in the publishing industry. It was a reference to my “very odd manuscript,” stating “I just wanted to make sure we have a record of receiving it. Please let me know if you have any questions.”
At that point, I knew the rabbit hole went much deeper than even the contents of the book implied. I already knew from the responses I was getting on Open Salon that I am one of the select few of my generation who can write a coherent essay in prose that don’t read like copywriting. Not knowing yet that I was living in a Sims Game, I figured I would write my own ticket on the Internet, literally. The book remains unpublished till this day.
As it turned out, the Internet is the easiest form of communication to control and our material, because of the sensitivity of the subject matter, is deemed fit for consumption by those who control it only for a chosen few. If we are to adjust the course of this Flying Dutchmen of a world for bliss, we require a wider audience than what we have been given. As it stands now, this ship is sailing right over the Event Horizon.
I have watched this timeline get violated like a high school cheerleader at a party in the Hell’s Angels clubhouse. Those that don’t know call it the Mandela Effect. We who understand call it home. In the movie Dark City it was called tuning, technologically speaking it would be called rewriting the program but whatever you want to call it someone or something’s doing it. Sometimes I watch the moon rise in the east and in the west the next night, the stars are almost never in the same place. Or perhaps it is I who am in a different place.
Maybe I have misjudged my enemies and they are not cowards and weaklings. They simply cannot find me. I am going to make it easy for them; I am going to Europe where most of them live. We will be taking pictures and giving a written account as we go, I’ve already purchased a military grade lap top and we will need a suitable camera. Expenditure will be considerable and Orage estimates it to be at about ten thousand dollars. We will need funding; I’m not going as a tourist I am going as Jack Heart…
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Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan: Memoir of an awakening god Paperback – January 5, 2021