Magick with a Que:From OTH to O.T.O.
Oct. 15th, 2004 08:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon"And there is no Vision more critical in the career of the Adept of Horus than the Universal Joke."
Aleister Crowley
Little essays towards truth
When I was being processed out of the Navy, the Yeomen on my ship screwed two things up. First, they had listed me as an E-3 after my demotion at Captains Mass. I was originally an E-2 when I was busted and tried; so I was effectively being discharged from the service with a raise (that's your tax dollars at work folks). Second they assumed that since I was born in New York that that must be where I was living prior to my signing up. So instead of being sent to Jacksonville,Fl where I was then living, I was instead filed, numbered, counted and discharged in Philadelphia, Pa. I was assigned to a reject division of other squids who didn't quite make the "Honorable" or "General" discharge, but weren't bad ass enough to be considered outright treasonous or deemed "Dishonorable". We were the "OTH"-Other Than Honorable. It was basically for the unapologetically gay (homosexuality?In the Navy? Whoever heard of such a thing!), the druggies,the peace time deserters, the guys who smacked some zero in the chops for mouthing off, the fuck-ups & the borderline insane. I'll let you guess which one I was. I remember that we shared a berthing area with the Med discharges. All of us shared something in common we were an abnomaly to the brass- a batch of broken toy soliders mixed with a pack of Pavlovian dogs who wouldn't drool when their masters rang the bell anymore. There is only one thing you could do with such a collection of human catastrophes-Busy Work! Nothing worse for a man than to piss your time away on a job nobody-not even the guys paying you- give a flying fuck about. Which is why it took me all of a week to figure out how to get out of it. I'd muster in the morning and knock off by noon. The trick was to be invisible. The key to invisibility was adapting the gestures & social moree's of the "Average Guy".It's easy. Just remember these little guidelines:Don't have an opinion on anything ever, don't ask any questions, never be the first to laugh or be the last to volunteer, never sexcel,never fail- think gray thoughts until your a blur in the eye's of your command.(This is not just a method for avoiding work it's also the fast track to getting that promotion you always wanted.) So outside the occasional watch or inspection,I was free to drift and explore the city of "Brotherly love" at my leisure. The city, I was told, was layed out on a grid by it's Masonic founders so I never really got lost, and the public transpo ran 24-7. I discovered South Street on a lazy Sunday and fell in love with her immediately- row after row of clubs, record shops,tatoo parlors, ultra chic clothing outlets,galleries and even an occult bookstore or two.An American Camden Town basically.In the course of my aimless wanderings I saw a pamphlet on a telephone pole outside one of the bookstores. It had printed on it Liber Oz- basically the Bill of rights for thelemites(See June 27th 2004 entry). There was a number at the bottom of the flyer but I never called it. I was at a regular bookstore the next day thumbing through Regardie's "The Middle Pillar" in the new age -metaphysics section; suddenly this guy starts up a conversation with me about the book. He was a thin and long haired and well spoken kind of guy: I immediately pegged him for gay. Well it turns out he was impressed that I pronounced "Crowley" like "Holy" instead of saying "CRau-Lee" and that my time with skinhead Dave had allowed me to mimic and parrot certain rudimentary concepts on the Aeon of Horus and the basic outline of the tree of life. He took his break and we grabbed coffee next door still discussing the secrets of the occult (well the "secrets" any one can look up if they wanna spend ten minutes at a Borders or online). He told me about a lodge meeting I should check out. I casually inquired if it was the Lodge ******. He looked all wide eyed and excited. Why yes. Yes it was. In fact I had to be some kind of character to know that. I don't mention the pamphlet.I don't mention the Nav. I don't mention Florida. I say very little and shrug when asked how I know the Sephiroth of this, or the Gematria of that. I was learning the power of the bluff and the art of saying much by not saying anything. He tells me I have to attend this meeting, an O.T.O. workshop that's going down- and quickly scribbles down an address for me on a napkin. Saturday at 2, there will be a meeting and workshop. I was invited. I think it through and agree after a bit of theater- "If I'm not needed, I will be there" I tell him, not mentioning that what I meant was if I could get some schmuck to trade watches with me back at the base. He smiles and shakes my hand funny and runs off back to the store ten minutes late from his break. I go back to the "Middle Pillar" I skipped paying for when I walked out of the store with him to grab the coffee. I didn't mean to take it- I just forgot about it and so did he.It amazes me that the people who want to bind angels and discover the grand secrets of the illuminated, never pay attention to the details of the world around them. A shame because that's where Heaven and Hell wait for us, in the details we ignore.
End Part One
Aleister Crowley
Little essays towards truth
When I was being processed out of the Navy, the Yeomen on my ship screwed two things up. First, they had listed me as an E-3 after my demotion at Captains Mass. I was originally an E-2 when I was busted and tried; so I was effectively being discharged from the service with a raise (that's your tax dollars at work folks). Second they assumed that since I was born in New York that that must be where I was living prior to my signing up. So instead of being sent to Jacksonville,Fl where I was then living, I was instead filed, numbered, counted and discharged in Philadelphia, Pa. I was assigned to a reject division of other squids who didn't quite make the "Honorable" or "General" discharge, but weren't bad ass enough to be considered outright treasonous or deemed "Dishonorable". We were the "OTH"-Other Than Honorable. It was basically for the unapologetically gay (homosexuality?In the Navy? Whoever heard of such a thing!), the druggies,the peace time deserters, the guys who smacked some zero in the chops for mouthing off, the fuck-ups & the borderline insane. I'll let you guess which one I was. I remember that we shared a berthing area with the Med discharges. All of us shared something in common we were an abnomaly to the brass- a batch of broken toy soliders mixed with a pack of Pavlovian dogs who wouldn't drool when their masters rang the bell anymore. There is only one thing you could do with such a collection of human catastrophes-Busy Work! Nothing worse for a man than to piss your time away on a job nobody-not even the guys paying you- give a flying fuck about. Which is why it took me all of a week to figure out how to get out of it. I'd muster in the morning and knock off by noon. The trick was to be invisible. The key to invisibility was adapting the gestures & social moree's of the "Average Guy".It's easy. Just remember these little guidelines:Don't have an opinion on anything ever, don't ask any questions, never be the first to laugh or be the last to volunteer, never sexcel,never fail- think gray thoughts until your a blur in the eye's of your command.(This is not just a method for avoiding work it's also the fast track to getting that promotion you always wanted.) So outside the occasional watch or inspection,I was free to drift and explore the city of "Brotherly love" at my leisure. The city, I was told, was layed out on a grid by it's Masonic founders so I never really got lost, and the public transpo ran 24-7. I discovered South Street on a lazy Sunday and fell in love with her immediately- row after row of clubs, record shops,tatoo parlors, ultra chic clothing outlets,galleries and even an occult bookstore or two.An American Camden Town basically.In the course of my aimless wanderings I saw a pamphlet on a telephone pole outside one of the bookstores. It had printed on it Liber Oz- basically the Bill of rights for thelemites(See June 27th 2004 entry). There was a number at the bottom of the flyer but I never called it. I was at a regular bookstore the next day thumbing through Regardie's "The Middle Pillar" in the new age -metaphysics section; suddenly this guy starts up a conversation with me about the book. He was a thin and long haired and well spoken kind of guy: I immediately pegged him for gay. Well it turns out he was impressed that I pronounced "Crowley" like "Holy" instead of saying "CRau-Lee" and that my time with skinhead Dave had allowed me to mimic and parrot certain rudimentary concepts on the Aeon of Horus and the basic outline of the tree of life. He took his break and we grabbed coffee next door still discussing the secrets of the occult (well the "secrets" any one can look up if they wanna spend ten minutes at a Borders or online). He told me about a lodge meeting I should check out. I casually inquired if it was the Lodge ******. He looked all wide eyed and excited. Why yes. Yes it was. In fact I had to be some kind of character to know that. I don't mention the pamphlet.I don't mention the Nav. I don't mention Florida. I say very little and shrug when asked how I know the Sephiroth of this, or the Gematria of that. I was learning the power of the bluff and the art of saying much by not saying anything. He tells me I have to attend this meeting, an O.T.O. workshop that's going down- and quickly scribbles down an address for me on a napkin. Saturday at 2, there will be a meeting and workshop. I was invited. I think it through and agree after a bit of theater- "If I'm not needed, I will be there" I tell him, not mentioning that what I meant was if I could get some schmuck to trade watches with me back at the base. He smiles and shakes my hand funny and runs off back to the store ten minutes late from his break. I go back to the "Middle Pillar" I skipped paying for when I walked out of the store with him to grab the coffee. I didn't mean to take it- I just forgot about it and so did he.It amazes me that the people who want to bind angels and discover the grand secrets of the illuminated, never pay attention to the details of the world around them. A shame because that's where Heaven and Hell wait for us, in the details we ignore.
End Part One
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no subject
on 2004-10-15 10:21 am (UTC)Please call me this weekend.. or hang out with us dammit..
silly hermits..
no subject
on 2004-10-15 12:25 pm (UTC)I'll try- IM me.
no subject
on 2004-10-15 12:40 pm (UTC)sounds kinda beatnikish in the middle.
:)
i have alliester crowleys mark of the beast tattooed on my lower abdomen. :)
no subject
on 2004-10-15 01:05 pm (UTC)I kinda picked up my love of word play off the Beats so I know at times I kinda ape them(I'm worse when I read Irvine Welsh- after reading FILTH I couldn't shake the Scottish accent out of my head for weeks).
I've been thinking of getting the winged disk of Mehu or Hadit as a back piece myself. One day when the corporate-cancer gods and I come to some agreement over the $ i'll get it.
no subject
on 2004-10-15 01:37 pm (UTC)it kind of has a nicole blackman esque think about it as well.
well when you get the back piece you must show me.
hope the corporate gods are good to you.