(A Love Letter to a Girl)

(A Love Letter to a Girl)

My bowels quake at the flatulent doom inspired by the narcissism of my brown eye peering into itself.

Honestly what could make one look away? What could draw away the gaze? So thoroughly puzzling yet completely and dangerously necessary.

The narcissism of the brown eye can not smell the roses (now that's a metaphor!) or the aroma of cigarette smoke over the smoke wafting from its cigarette. To be in is to not appreciate it, and to be out is to love it in disobedient loyalty. Painful separation, the Christ from all else, to tear the curtain that separates man from God.

The starfish waits holding hands with the imaginary balloon knot instead of the girl-frog it knows its heart truly desires. And he secretes his necessary biological matter, and he waits for a tomorrow that will never come, pained for just a single distraction as a springboard into his most lovely madness. Make me great! Make me this and that! You will be worshipped and forgotten, and I... I shall live on as the hero!


Note: I add the following not in the wasted efforts of apologetics, but to wet your appetites for my soon to come Preterist art pieces inspired by the same genius as this letter. This Love Letter is my Hell, and my Hell lives in sharp contrast to the Heaven I inhabited for so short a time. The last of my secretions is about to come, and when I am finally empty there will be nothing. When there is nothing I must go and seek her out, and when I find her I will die.

The next years will finally see the completion of my destiny, the reason for the crucifixion. I can only assume that I am here to show you something. My vanity will allow for no other Delusional Self to exist in my strata of awareness. If Odin did not share the runes there would not have been a Ragnarock to speak of...

Could a personal apocalypse that I experienced 9 years ago actually facilitate an outside phenomena that could be likened to an apocalypse? This is what I have been made for. So it's not even a matter of choice, the seed must be planted before it further destroys my soul. It has gestated in my groin for near a decade now and the time has come for the Child to be born.

What is all this you ask? Has Christoph become a mystic? Is Christoph further shortening his name to Christ? What has been called Christ I call a shit warehouse, and my bride will flush me out. Your symbols have become sterile because of the antiquated nature of their representation and the decadence of modern interpretation. Am I still a Satanist? Am I an Odinist? Am I a fascist, a communist, a capitalist, a christian... no. Not how you define any of those things and yes I am. How I define each and every one of them. A word is a word, and its power lies in interpretation. Words no longer have any meaning because they are thrown about as a monkey throws about its own shit. In particular religious titles.

I am a man without a country, without a religion. And I am a Catholic and a Pagan.

If I am anything I am an ism.

Artists are meant to live on the outside looking in. It is the nature of the sentinel. To drive through Hell in a corvette and publish a book of the journey. To offer you a road to salvation that you will choose not to take. Nothing will change. And that knowledge has postponed my impending action. But it is no longer a choice. There is no longer a purpose. The painter paints because he has no choice. It is a compulsion. FLEE FROM ME SATANISTS, FOR I HAVE USED A CATCH PHRASE DEMONIZED IN YOUR DOGMA! Those that can see will see, those that can not will not, near none will care to. And that fact is no longer an issue for me.

Do I believe in the work of Christ? Yes, it is universal, it is Catholic. And I believe in his Second Coming. I believe it already happened, it is happening, and it will happen. The sacred realm beyond Ipsissimus is the Second Coming. Surely one at least has attained. Surely there is an alchemist that has turned lead into gold since the time of Jesus. Jesus did what he did so you do not have to, now in the next Epoch it will be forced upon you as a stratifying element. If you can not go and see god directly for yourself, if you can not attain the knowledge of the light and where it lies, you are doomed to the Hell of ignorance and organized religion, and if you can see, it is placed upon you to make others see, or yours is a special Purgatory worse than Hell itself. Hell is the pain of the absence of God, Purgatory is the absence of all and a far worse pain to bear.

I give back to your symbols their life, I give life back to all of you that wish to grasp it, and it is at once at my own expense and for my own restoration. The wolf tears at my groin and it is ready to be born. If I hold out I die in the abyss. The Temple must be rebuilded. I work for you because I have to, that is the price of the gift, that to have it will destroy you, and in order for it to be truly appreciated it must be given freely away. It is Love. And I am not worthy to choose who receives, I offer it to all and it is your choice to receive it or not. That is its nature. As an open offering it will become most naturally selective. Nature will select, God is in Nature.

I have denied this task for near a decade now because I feared breaking new ground outside the confines of certain titles that I had taken up. A Satanist is not supposed to see God, and is supposed to hate anything that is Christ-like in man. Honestly at this point to pretend any longer would be the ultimate in self-deceit and self-denial. I must indulge in what I know is my purpose. The line between light and dark is a false line, no such separation exists except for its own purpose and those of evaluation and map-making. The essence of the Satanic has its own place in the perfect harmony and cosmology of all. Satanism is a revisionist movement born out of the obvious need for balance, it is the flip side to the coin, and if there is a third side it is known to the Magus and the tools of his particular flip side are used in aid to the ideal of the third side. He knows this, He knows that as his opponents fall so shall his structure. An equal negation is its purpose, and when both sides become inconsequential and indiscernible from each other the third side only then becomes apparent.

Am I wrong?

I guess what I am saying is that it is not my place to aid the politic of the flip side, there are plenty of wonderful, talented, and powerful people doing that work right now. And if they see the end, if they see the third side that they work for only through subversion, does that not make them Christs? Are they nor crucified in duplicity? It is not my place to pretend. I see the inevitable decay of both and what is left has no title, save truth.

The Magi know that their victory lies in the destruction of their temple. When the dreaded "S" word no longer holds sway its purpose is accomplished.

I believe in titles and words, I believe in the necessity of maps, but my maps will be pictures and you can feel free to attach to them whatever words you like.

For me to add to the mythology of the flip side in order to make it better facilitate my particular brand of map making I would have to add the Satanic Martyr, a la V. That attempt would be met with with anger and accusation and a whole plethora of theological mud slinging that I do not care to partake in. Therefor I will paint according to the Christian mythos because its themes are universal. There has to be a character that sacrifices himself in order to gain knowledge and power. Whether or not this sacrifice is an indulgence of his nature and whether or not there is another way I leave open to debate. If we look to the mythology of Satan's fall from grace, is not his fall from grace something like an act of martyrdom? And an indulgence? He could have weaseled his way around heaven to remain in God's grace, but he didn't. Better to rule in Hell... And if Christ didn't allow himself to be crucified would he have achieved immortality? No. I must follow the callings of my soul. My life is my own and I will use it for whatever I want, and when I choose to die I will, and for whatever I choose to die for, if anything.

I dislike the power of words to to restrict and confine.

I am that I am, and I leave it up to you to attach words to it. Mine is the realm of visuals and actions.

I never knew that I would disagree with so much on this expance of egos without boundaries known as the internet; that I would disagree with so many that describe themselves with the same word that I use... I read the book, like you, and like you I felt that I was reading my own thoughts finally and formally articulated in simple alchemical artistry. But I can not be the horse that wears blinders, for better or worse. I am the bull that is lead by the string. The madman that is not mad, but appears that way because he is so light and caught in the pulses of wind gusts, and so he sways back and forth.

It is my purpose to point to the middle road and get crushed like a grape... in time I will age and become wine.

If I am deemed to be of no use then I will gracefully bow and remove myself. I do not wish to be an obstacle for the completion of a work that I believe in. And in actuality I could never be one. What must come will come.

I am not wise and old, I am young and petulant. The only thing I claim an absolute right to define for myself is myself and what I leave behind. I am not revising the revision. My ego is not that inflated.

But all a man can do is point to the crumbs of truth that he has been privy to, with the tools that he has attained. And that is exactly what I will do, regardless of the claims of the subversive nature of my work that will inevitably arise.

But all this is madness. I have not even completed the first piece. And the great theater's production is dragged through the mud of a linear lifetime; the commercial breaks are far longer than the show itself, and the majesty of the work can only be seen in retrospect. Tape it, edit out the commercials, and watch it after I have retired.

I wish myself many more years in order to carry this out, and I hope that my body carries me through despite my abuse.

It is time now, I can wait no longer.