Having my way with Ulysses

My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.

Seen in this manner, all our acts are just, but they are also indifferent. There are no moral or intellectual merits. Homer composed the Odyssey; if we postulate an infinite period of time, with infinite circumstances and changes, the impossible thing is not to compose the Odyssey, at least once. No one is anyone, one single immortal man is all men. Like Cornelius Agrippa, I am god, I am hero, I am philosopher, I am demon and I am world, which is a tedious way of saying that I do not exist. 2:58 pm

I feel somebody behind me.  Who?  You?  Breathing on me.  Neck prickilish.  The moment is now.  Where?  Why?  Why.  Cease to strive, that’s why.  Peace of druid priests I want.  Hierophantic like descent, search, ascent.  I’ll stand over the omphalos and perform the unrepeatable rites.  I’ll drink the kykeon and walk the earth with the step of a pard.  Descend, then search.  I’ll wander in exile with the eternal Jew.  We shall perform the auguries described by Scotus and practiced by Cornelius Agrippa.  Together we will descend, then search.  We shall sail with the ancient mariner, eternal Odysseus, yes, beyond the bounds of will and time.  Ascend.  Yes, part.  The moment is now.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.