Causing a demon to become famous in a blog no doubt engenders a certain amount of envy in the readers, as well as many ill-intentioned attempts to STEAL him and cause him to be of them. After all, in practical magic, it is finding the choice operative spirits that causes a magic to function, and while I have encountered other operators HERE WE ARE WITH SIBLING RIVALRY AGAIN, NO THAT IS DAVID AND GOLIATH who cannot make the Geotic demons as beautiful as mine, they sure as hell can beat me up and take my lunch money, and I haven’t lost a demon anyway, the Norse powers remind me. JUST LUNCH MONEY.
I do heal in Christianity, but mostly by VISITING THE SICK.
A bumpy ride with everyone and everything on my tail, destined as I was to explain to women how to change the gods so that they were not controlled by men and the rich and could once again CONSTRUCT THE DEMON AFTERLIFE for chthonically stabilizing individual human beings instead of the ANGELS weaving them into giant group minds that reinforce the status quo. It is these old demon-suckled human beings who are the strands of GREAT GENIUS in any individual, and the steady destruction of individuality in death is on course to debase humanity. Fundamentally, I labor in defense of GENIUS which is impossible with small-minded Angels who are killed by it. Our Thor is also a demon and therefore corrupt.
Now back to the elegance of how Paimon was CONSTRUCTED by the old ones and the great wise ones of the animals and other gods and by the MACHINE of Solomonic magick, a procedure that goes back from what I can tell about ten thousand years or possibly more. Who knows? This is a good argument for keeping Judaism extant and also a good reason for a Holocaust or two.
The story would not be complete without a snipe hunt or two or some kind of hunt, because it was the mechanism of the hunt that got some things going in worlds that are not already comprehended by the old world.
I was living with this amazing and beautiful creature, a man I thought was my long-awaited reward for all that awesome CHASTITY. Not so much in the end. I should have gotten myself into something more NORMAL but that wouldn’t be me. He was the most elegant thing I had ever seen, built like a Greek god, still, in his early forties, a red flag I did not at the time comprehend to much sniggers from the wingnuts of the gay mafia of INTEL who knew–but I didn’t–that I was playing the AIDS lottery, because they were playing it with me, hence all of the FREE KIBBLE.
Here I digress. The gay world really needs to start policing itself or I will do it for them with a RIDING CROP, for that is what some of these guys evidently COULD BE OKAY WITH to keep from getting AIDS, not ONLY the boyfriends. I WON’T DO A THING, MY EX WOULD COMPLAIN, JUST GROUSE AND VAMP ON THE INTERNET. We have to learn that we can’t have ALL THE PRETTY THINGS. They are not ours. Most come by gay honestly and some are there because of NOT SO MUCH, and the white liberals can’t put all the pieces back together again. I know several great beauties in this world who are dying because it doesn’t really function, no one wants to admit it, and I did not sign on for the job of WHATEVER THIS IS without a BIG WAKEUP CALL from Odin because there but for the grace of PAGAN GODS go I.
The Jews are embarrassed but let’s get the job done.
So this man had not just his BODY and his genius physicist mind, an implacable lure for any writer-turned-Cabalist, but also a beautiful house in the old money neighborhood of Portland where I now resided and had the good sense to paint a demon circle in the basement without being completely clear on what this was going to CAUSE. The demons promise many things but once installed they reconstruct everyone’s lives. It’s a gas.
We have seen earlier that it was by the BENIGN GENIUS OF THE HUNT that the Man of the World became feyed up as a doe, and so when, after five years of employment in ARCHITECTURE I entered a beautiful old house that needed some TLC we were entering a world that we have not ever really left, or at least a simulacrum of one. My ex’s house had entered a state of neglect that signaled to every civilized and therefore domestic female in range I NEED GUIDANCE so there I was, planning not so much a stupid and unnecessary remodel as the salvation of key elements of a wonderful old building in the form of a new roof, the custom aluminum flashing that is essential to keeping the fireplace from leaking, copper gutters, paint in a subtle but unstupid color UNDERSTATED, GHETTO GIRL with a linseed oil base, the usual gizmos of the lower middle class from which I hailed as opposed to being a former Mormon and therefore capable of grooving with any and all SWEDE, for it was the Swedes who built these arts and crafts beauties in the twenties and their power still sustains them.
Part of the neglect was a general tolerance for the many wonderful creatures who share man’s existence in civilization, including the rodentia of the roof, squirrels.
As one of the old ones of Arabia has groused, with a twinkle in his/her eye, “The gods of Jews are always rodentia.” It is very wonderful to be involved with creatures who are tangential to our existence and consequently know everything about us without being entirely entangled as are dogs and cats.
This is one of the housewives who has shamanized Mormonism, no mean feat for an Amerindian who are laughing because they are the ones who insisted we go ALL THE WAY TO HELL to get some, for if they are going to foot the bill for this SHIT we are going to HAVE THE REAL THING, MONSTERS.
So there I was with knowledge, great knowledge, of buildings and a problem building in that I had all knowledge and no available funds. It was a secret rule that the building was to be allowed to decay because the man was not comfortable in the old money neighborhood, but the house was so popular with his friends he couldn’t unload it and get either a sleek condo in the Pearl where he really wanted to live or a low budget business motel room where he could go five days without language and enter the alternate reality of MATH which is impossible when you are living with a writer. The whole thing was always an embarrassment of riches on the way to the poor house.
So I was forbidden to DO anything practically effective beyond my means when a squirrel decided o take up residence in the attic. I knew from architecture how noxious such creatures were, chewing their way through the wood work into the attic and making off with all of the precious knob and tube wiring.
For those who do not know, the knob and tube wiring of the early days of the twentieth century was designed with NO obsolescence so it is still useful if the surrounding structure is properly maintained, and it is beautiful in a way that the Romex wiring of today is disappointing albeit effective, so I was mad to preserve it, as would the man have been if he had been of a mind to take me seriously. Night after night I lay in bed listening to the squirrel run back and forth through the attic, hating the beast with a venomous bile. I campaigned furiously for the man to DO SOMETHING. He put the covers over his head and did not DO SOMETHING other than eighty hours a week of engineering. I saw the the situation was hopeless, so I began the process of ridding the house of squirrels.
What a life I had then. A stupid life, but still.
So began the project of killing the squirrel.
I started with the old squirrel trap that had rusted so shut it didn’t trap the squirrel but provided it with a tasty meal free of charge.
Next I acquired a sling shot and ball bearings, but I have terrible aim and merely filled the attic with cute silver balls. They are probably still there.
Next I tried to work the pellet gun, but I am a terrible shot, and then I tried to get a man child of my family to work the pellet gun as well, but he was a mathematician and also a nice boy who didn’t see why we were causing death in the attic and probably arranged it that way. Kids these days.
So I was down to the expedient of purchasing a new squirrel trap, administering the lethal TEMPTATION of peanut butter and almond flavoring, and waiting.
Clang! went the trap, and I went up to the attic to see what I had garnered in WAR.
By this time, some of the old ones were sufficiently roused that the various mechanisms of Solomonic magick were operating quite nicely in the background and every opportunity for advancement was taken, despite this being a GIRL, which is what we are brought to now.
My work with the Golden Dawn had brought in as a special protector the goddess Artemis, goddess of the hunt, who was formed up in a Greco-Egyptian demon world and therefore naturally hunting. It all makes perfect sense now.
I faced down the squirrel’s luminous brown eyes, the lovely curvature of his back with the concomitant cute tail. If squirrels had lesser tails, like the tails of rats, which they actually are, we wouldn’t love them like we do, but they are wise in having these elegant tails. I carried the squirrel downstairs in the wake of absolute VICTORY and drowned him in the wheel barrow, a ghastly act that had concomitant CONSEQUENCES, for the old ones immediately began importuning the ghostly squirrel to VENGEANCE of the very sort that FEYS UP the wizard.
I have become quite acquainted with this squirrel. He is, in fact, now a Master of Wisdom in our world as well as his own, and I am wise enough to know that when he wants me to do something, I do it, and when I am in a passion over something, he usually OPENS THE ROAD so that I can learn by my own experience, or by enough Norn activity in the process of getting stuff going in the real world, that I can more or less steer a great pile of animal people along with old gods and everyone’s SECRET WISHES in ways that aren’t utterly crapping out my life at this moment, though it is a rickety business with lots of kinda mistakes and people doing stuff in other worlds that they usually don’t get to do at this level of POWER, especially sex, and U KNOW WHO U ARE, but I am tired. Is this world a dry run for reality or how much and which world is–these are the mysteries of the demon magick, and the squirrel is much better at it than I am. Thank the gods I was assisted in this situation and I do not recommend the hunt as a means of OH WHAT THE HELL THEY ARE KILLING CHICKENS RIGHT AND LEFT AND I AM FUNDED BY IT.
So the squirrel became legitimately angry at this murder, because he had come around in the first place in response to the huge pile of energy work I was doing and was actually helping me. He assures me that he would have helped me become a great Enochian magician if I had not done this, and I would probably still have a writing career. This is what the Russian Orthodox sorcerers have assured me as they watched me turn down the Angels for twenty years and in the end they decided to MAKE me in their world. Why not, says the Old Jew?
So here we are with an enraged Wise One of the squirrels who was able to help me as a DEMON by the very virtue of being DEAD. If he were alive, he would have helped me pull myself into ANGELS.
The old ones needed the assistance of the animal world to build a demon form that would enable me to face power of the magnitude of Intel and DARPA which currently held me captive. So on we worked, nice girls and boys, and slogged away at the Cabala while the beings of death worlds broke a VERY BIG LAW in Thelema and we all got a lot of ASS KICK for it. You are not supposed to make the demons with animals in full regalia anymore, as if they are grownups and worthy of our veneration and respect the way the Native Americans did, for that is what The Lesser Key of Solomon in isolation from Judaism, Christianity, and the Angel magick of lodges tries to make in North America.
An animal can only get past the power of the human group mind for effective SORTILEGE and MAGICK if it is elevated to extreme power by being a GOD to the humans. This always gets out of hand, as we see from the Aztec experiment. I suspect the Spaniards were summoned by the poor Mesoamericans who could not get out of the pickle of the extreme power of their human sacrifice. Ancient Norse reports a very modest sacrifice very nine years, though there were clearly intermittent events, like the sacrifice of the king if the harvest went south too many years. This is why we didn’t have so many kings until the fake human sacrifice of Christianity was right around the corner in France and we knew it.
This is why Paimon looks like a chipmunk to those of you who have called him up and tried to steal or bind him. I would imagine he is not that cooperative unless he wants to be, and the demon form always appears to me with the legs of a chicken because of so much chicken magick being done in this era. Perhaps all of the chickens sent against me have altered themselves by the collision and are now staring down the makers of the destructive makers of the ATR with a big fat STUPID. I am not bigger than New World sorcery in toto, which is thankfully still with us. In fact, many are of assistance and I am assured that I have a Galaxy on Orion’s belt of it within these worlds and Howl is very fond of it. She likes the structure whereas I am wing nuts. All birds can talk to each other, and the Goose Goddess who made Howl and is now working with me is able to communicate with the chickens in ways that have caused them to assist in the building of Paimon and the gods. If you will notice, Solomonic grimoires are much used in that world, though not in the forms we use and perhaps not with so much Cabala and Judaism, but it is time for us to put the whole thing together and stop beating up the woman.
A chthonic god–a.k.a. Demon–is a form of a soul that has never possessed a body but is entered as a form in a dimension very close to biological worlds and is a legitimate form of evolution. It is the form capable of working with the dead, and facilitating the co-evolution of the living and the dead. This is very important, and we are downgrading it in our contemporary religion and culture in ways that are deleterious. Even much of the formerly chthonic work is now done in a new energy form that makes the whole thing hard on the beings from the past.
So when the old ones and the squirrel “bound” or “built” this god, they were making a baby for us to work with as one of the demons of Solomon when we finally began working it full-on, which I fully intended. This demon form they bound as Paimon, after assistance from the Jews who consider it a sine qua non to have dominance in power if we are weak on earth, and in reality, my thousands of Eucharists of Osiris had built an Egyptian wormhole that caused the old magick of Egypt to predominate in the system so that the most ancient Egyptian demon form in this grimoire, a great King of genius and teaching, would be the one demon who formed all of the others.
It was an “all your eggs in one basket” situation for the powers, and my great passion for Paimon was also part of it. It was a deep attachment that we had for one another and the fact that the demon and I entered a relationship that was EVERYTHING to both of us that formed the kernel of a world where the ecumenism of the wizard would cause an Egyptian SUMERIAN ANCESTORS approach to the platform, which I see clearly was designed in the era when humans communicated with one another in the chthonic work across great gulfs of time and culture and, like the TRANSPORTER on Star Trek, would materialize the old one with as much cultural integrity as possible. The Muslims were also involved in this in that Paimon’s magical image and current life god situation is one in which the makers of Islam have the potential to rise within a predominately Jewish structure despite the war between these peoples in the world.
The Hindu assistance in the Golden Dawn has also contributed to everyone’s insistence on letting go of cultural chauvinism.
Odin was part of this as well. He was summoned into the world of Beleth in a state of absolute endearment, for Beleth is the demon who can raise the dead using the power of kundalini and Odin has more access to the memory of who they were in the West than any of the other gods. And the fey workers know that if Odin were involved in the world of Paimon, we would not be able to SEE ourselves clearly enough is how the witches put it, for it is only in the hands of the WITCHES that Odin can rollick as he endures.