Novembers Children
Nov. 18th, 2005 01:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonFrom the Magickal Diary of Adam Last; Frater 23: IVxiii,Sol 22° Ares, Luna 29° Pisces.
Do What Thou Wilt Shall be the whole of the Law
Not every imaginary friend becomes a Tulpa, the sad truth is that your average Imaginary Friend (IF) has a life span lasting roughly from the time the speech centers of the brain develop until the first week of cathode radiation bombardment at the hands of the electronic babysitter. If the TV doesn't kill the IF then usually puberty does the trick (known as Calvin's Law). But some IFs were given enough love, (or in some cases fear), for the being to detach from the hosts consciousness and make it's own way in the world. The IF becomes an IT, that is an Independent Tulpa. Most ITs don't find it easy trying to make it on their own. Normally fed on the Believe System of the host, the IT has to adapt to new survival strategys. Most go fictional, and they take on the roles of urban legends or rural ghosts, depending on the psychogeography of the ITs dwelling. Some though want a real life, known as a 'Pinnochio Complex'. The IT wants to be real flesh and bone, and if I can let you in on a small secret, there are numerous Hollywood stars that were really former IFs & ITs and have found that the movies & TV shows allowed them the audience they need to feed their exsistence. Ever wonder what make up secrets or CGI effects were used to make NAME BLOCKED FOR LEGAL REASONS look like he hasn't aged since the 80s? Some ITs don't even need to get that far. Look around you the next time you're walking down the city, you'll probably run into dozens of ITs, stray dogs that have been adopted, the old man you've noticed has been an old man since you were a child, the woman who never leaves her house, that crazy son of a bitch marchng up and down the avenue screaming at No one at all- (well he's real...but so's the guy he's talking to). Some ITs manage to forget their ITs. There's nothing easier in the world than convincing yourself that the facts are wrong, the mirage is real and that you are nothing more or less, than what you say you are. But those are the lucky ones. Most fade out after their few weeks on their own. The IT is unable to adapt, unable to make it's own connections with the enviornment. It becomes trapped in the routines it was given, going through the motions of games long forgotten or performing routines for an audience that has left years ago. By the end the IT resembles a tape loop or a record skipping until it vanishes into a signal of psychic white noise. Then there are the others, the ones those of us in the 'Business' call Novembers Children.
Not all ITs want to be real, or I should say want to be US (User/Servers is the ITs derogatory term for non-imaginary life forms like you and me). These are the non anthropomorphic ITs - unemployed Teddy Bear bodyguards, crayon robots, bird headed buddies, porn mag sucubbi whose face is a shifting mask of lovers wished, talking tonka trucks, sparkle glitter unicorns, cowboy lizards, General Tick of the grandfather clock brigade just to name a few. They've formed their own alliance, their own network and survive living under little kids beds or they hide out for a few while disguised as an idea that 'popped' into a bad novelists head (*Don't anyone look at me*). Here in Terminus there are hundred of Novembers Children, more than most cities surprisingly. I think that's because when you're up in the Apple or in L.A.-L.A. land even the most stubborn dream learns its price and hence learns to play along. But here in Terminus theres a lot of them and a lot of them aren't very nice. I recall a little girl who died by a hit & run DUI in '98 left behind her IF, Georgie Boy, a talking terrier that resembled the dog her parents couldn't afford for her birthday. By '99 Georgie Boy tallied up a body count of 15 before it faded out. There are ITs out there that can only appear in hallucinations, they squat for days on end in a junkies withdrawls or some have found a nice home in some piss bums regularly occuring DTs. Some need the fear, and some don't need it but they just like it, and they spend their time following little boys & girls on lonely walks home after school or sit in the bad shadows at the end of the room. I've heard that the first of the Novembers Children was a Londoner. A victorian schoolboys playful chum who got out of hand and one day got free.The result: Five dead. From Hell with Love. Just a rumor really, but no one wants to make more out of it lest they summon up more than they can put back down. A few ITs have let it out that the Novembers Children are planning something. Something big. Word on the IS (Imaginary Street) is that they're gonna revolt one day, they're gonna storm the offices and townhomes, they're gonna march into the ghettos and suburbs and the forgotten shall be remembered, and the IFs & ITs of the world will come back for US, they're gonna keep coming back until there's no difference anymore, between reality and ... it's opposite I guess. So now you know. If you think your IF is long gone, take another look down that back alley buddy, take a gander around the square where the homeless swig drinks and you might just ask yourself why that one guy you always see spare changing hasn't seemed to age in the last ten years you've lived here, or when you pass by a stranger you could have sworn you've met before, look under your bed again for the first time in years and try and name the thing living there. Novembers Children are out there and just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not watching you!
Love is the Law.
Love under will
93
Do What Thou Wilt Shall be the whole of the Law
Not every imaginary friend becomes a Tulpa, the sad truth is that your average Imaginary Friend (IF) has a life span lasting roughly from the time the speech centers of the brain develop until the first week of cathode radiation bombardment at the hands of the electronic babysitter. If the TV doesn't kill the IF then usually puberty does the trick (known as Calvin's Law). But some IFs were given enough love, (or in some cases fear), for the being to detach from the hosts consciousness and make it's own way in the world. The IF becomes an IT, that is an Independent Tulpa. Most ITs don't find it easy trying to make it on their own. Normally fed on the Believe System of the host, the IT has to adapt to new survival strategys. Most go fictional, and they take on the roles of urban legends or rural ghosts, depending on the psychogeography of the ITs dwelling. Some though want a real life, known as a 'Pinnochio Complex'. The IT wants to be real flesh and bone, and if I can let you in on a small secret, there are numerous Hollywood stars that were really former IFs & ITs and have found that the movies & TV shows allowed them the audience they need to feed their exsistence. Ever wonder what make up secrets or CGI effects were used to make NAME BLOCKED FOR LEGAL REASONS look like he hasn't aged since the 80s? Some ITs don't even need to get that far. Look around you the next time you're walking down the city, you'll probably run into dozens of ITs, stray dogs that have been adopted, the old man you've noticed has been an old man since you were a child, the woman who never leaves her house, that crazy son of a bitch marchng up and down the avenue screaming at No one at all- (well he's real...but so's the guy he's talking to). Some ITs manage to forget their ITs. There's nothing easier in the world than convincing yourself that the facts are wrong, the mirage is real and that you are nothing more or less, than what you say you are. But those are the lucky ones. Most fade out after their few weeks on their own. The IT is unable to adapt, unable to make it's own connections with the enviornment. It becomes trapped in the routines it was given, going through the motions of games long forgotten or performing routines for an audience that has left years ago. By the end the IT resembles a tape loop or a record skipping until it vanishes into a signal of psychic white noise. Then there are the others, the ones those of us in the 'Business' call Novembers Children.
Not all ITs want to be real, or I should say want to be US (User/Servers is the ITs derogatory term for non-imaginary life forms like you and me). These are the non anthropomorphic ITs - unemployed Teddy Bear bodyguards, crayon robots, bird headed buddies, porn mag sucubbi whose face is a shifting mask of lovers wished, talking tonka trucks, sparkle glitter unicorns, cowboy lizards, General Tick of the grandfather clock brigade just to name a few. They've formed their own alliance, their own network and survive living under little kids beds or they hide out for a few while disguised as an idea that 'popped' into a bad novelists head (*Don't anyone look at me*). Here in Terminus there are hundred of Novembers Children, more than most cities surprisingly. I think that's because when you're up in the Apple or in L.A.-L.A. land even the most stubborn dream learns its price and hence learns to play along. But here in Terminus theres a lot of them and a lot of them aren't very nice. I recall a little girl who died by a hit & run DUI in '98 left behind her IF, Georgie Boy, a talking terrier that resembled the dog her parents couldn't afford for her birthday. By '99 Georgie Boy tallied up a body count of 15 before it faded out. There are ITs out there that can only appear in hallucinations, they squat for days on end in a junkies withdrawls or some have found a nice home in some piss bums regularly occuring DTs. Some need the fear, and some don't need it but they just like it, and they spend their time following little boys & girls on lonely walks home after school or sit in the bad shadows at the end of the room. I've heard that the first of the Novembers Children was a Londoner. A victorian schoolboys playful chum who got out of hand and one day got free.The result: Five dead. From Hell with Love. Just a rumor really, but no one wants to make more out of it lest they summon up more than they can put back down. A few ITs have let it out that the Novembers Children are planning something. Something big. Word on the IS (Imaginary Street) is that they're gonna revolt one day, they're gonna storm the offices and townhomes, they're gonna march into the ghettos and suburbs and the forgotten shall be remembered, and the IFs & ITs of the world will come back for US, they're gonna keep coming back until there's no difference anymore, between reality and ... it's opposite I guess. So now you know. If you think your IF is long gone, take another look down that back alley buddy, take a gander around the square where the homeless swig drinks and you might just ask yourself why that one guy you always see spare changing hasn't seemed to age in the last ten years you've lived here, or when you pass by a stranger you could have sworn you've met before, look under your bed again for the first time in years and try and name the thing living there. Novembers Children are out there and just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not watching you!
Love is the Law.
Love under will
93