Having my way with Ulysses

What did he say? What did he say? What did he say about me?

Supposing we grant that all things known as substances are homogeneous as possessing something denied to the other genera, what precisely is this something, this individuality, this subject which is never a predicate, this thing not present in any thing as in a subject, this thing which does not owe its essential character to any other thing, as a quality takes character from a body and a quantity from a substance, as time is related to motion and motion to the moved? 12:43 pm

But it wasn’t planes of consciousness I was asking about.  I could give two shits about planes of consciousness.  No.  And there is AE, thinking me a timid boy, declaring absolute knowledge involves understanding the totality of life.  To explain something means to show its connection to everything else.  But tell me something, AE, show me the everything else.  Where exactly will we stand?  How do we sufficiently remove our temporal selves so we can enter into this eternal totality?  Where will we in our opalescent hush experience this absolute?  Shall we lay on our backs in the grass and looking up into the blue try to think ourselves into the absolute?  But our backs, and the grass and the blue, won’t these temporal things get in our way?  It is an utter blotting out of self you quote Plotinus (who like you covets out of body experiences, but he is a hydrophobic leper so no wonder), a rapture of peace which will present to us, the more lucid souls amongst the rabblement, the experience of the absolute, the totality of life.  Please.  Tell me.  How do we sufficiently remove ourselves from the totality in order to experience it?  We are in it.  Where else is there?  When else?   And we see features of this totality through our individual conceptual and relative frameworks.  Emphasis on relative.  Absolute, in your mystic envelope my dear AE, it is the merging of the soul with the all the absolute.  But for you this must be done independent of relative content.  Put yourself in and simultaneously take yourself out.  Give me the relative.  Well, you don’t have to give it me.  I’m filled with it.  Infected by it.  And so are you.  The perception of the observer creates the reality of the observed.  I see you.  Not you, you.  There is no higher absolute, more Godly than the relative, clear to the sensitives.  Look at relativity.  Do you see it?  According to relativity, we can perceive events in time, but not time itself,  All time perception is relative to position and velocity, thus there is no absolute time, no absolute.  Tell that to AE messiah to the mastermystics.  He never packed relativity into his case of tricks.

Beneath a reign of uncouth stars.

For one of those gnostics, the visible universe was an illusion or (more precisely) a sophism. Mirrors and fatherhood are abominable because they multiply and disseminate that universe. 11:46 am

[A slight whispering wind blows through the theatre and we hear the sound of an incoming tide.  The veil of the temple rises revealing a circle of people lying on their backs staring up at the sky.]

Cassiopeia: [gazing at herself in a hand mirror] The stars are beautiful at this time of day, don’t you agree?  Though not as beautiful as me of course.

Pan:  Of course, baby.  Now come over here and sit on my lap.  My energies are rising.

Cassiopeia:  None so beautiful as me.

Shadow: [rolling over, bending himself toward the rocks, turning his back to the sun] Darkly they are there behind this light.  Darkness shining in the brightness.

Proteus:  [in the shape of a long stick, curved at the end, no knots]  We are here to look at birds people, not stars.  Now pay attention before I change my mind, I’m getting tired.  Did you hear that rook?  That means it will soon rain.

Pan:  This is Seattle, everything means it will soon rain.  Look, a dog!  It will soon rain. Look, a wave!  It will soon rain.  Please.  So, Virgin, your hand is so gentle.  Love the longlashed eyes, baby, want to trust me a little?

Cassiopeia:  She, she, she.  What is she to compare to me?

That Virgin:  [pointing] That cloud looks like a book.  See it up there?  Oooh, now it looks like letters.  U. P.

Pan:  [visibly aroused]  A lady of letters!  I am lonely here, touch me.

Proteus:  [in the form of our souls]  Goodness!  Look at that manshape ineluctable! I’ll sit on your lap. Cling to you a little, a woman to her lover.

Pan: [in his flutiest voice] The more the more!

Shadow:  [flatly] Come back to us Proteus, I see shadows of birds on a white field.

Pan: [Flutier] Don’t listen Proteus, come, cling, then come.  Now where the blue hell are you?

Proteus:  [In the form of a mirror] That’s better.  Feel a bit shamewounded.  Now where were we.  Oh yes.  Those birds, Shadow, are magpies and there are one, two, seven of them.  A secret.  And my stars, look, an owl!  And it is nearly noon, no wonder I am so tired.  Let’s see, owl, a revelation at night.  Also a bitter mystery.  A mysterious secret will be revealed at night.  Also, it will soon rain.

Cassiopeia:  [rubbing lotions into her skin]  Proteus, you’ve never looked so flat, yet in you I see distance.  Near, far, east, me.  Oh there I am.  Me.  Oh Proteus, you are so beautiful.  Oh, I feel something!  What is that word known to all men?

That Virgin:  What is that word?  I want to feel it too.  Point over here Proteus, show me what Cassiopeia sees.

Proteus: [In the form of Berkeley]  You see nothing.  You think you see.  Everything is flat, and you only think you see distances.  Those stars unbeheld behind this light?  Their distance is only an element of your idea of them.

Pan: [masturbating gently]  I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now.  I am quiet here alone.  Sad too.  Touch, touch me.

Shadow: [in the form of my form]  Not for all the word.