northanger (northanger) wrote,

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situation with 827 chart involves where (Titusville, Florida - could be), which alphabet(s) & zero point (Antares or Part of Fortune) & what form. first "star" based on Aeonic Archons by Joshua Zintel {Liber V vel Reguli | Liber V vel Reguli}. second "star" (cairo) based on Jacob's Wheel by Patrick Mulcahy using Enochian Alphabet with Sigillum Dei Aemeth heptagram (using ideas from Benjamin Rowe). third "star" (la puente) based on 220 Chart using ABJAD based on Numogram. considering Barker-Spiral for 827.

still decompressing {insert sob story}

actually, i've written a LOT of shit. just not posting it, lol. {enter pukefest here}

ps. 827 will be a bitch to do coz it should be done in 19 days. not looking forward to that.

pps. besides, astrology is pseudoscience for real morons — just read that somewhere. i feel so invalidated. things must be getting back to normal.


pc becoming increasingly unstable making me very nervous. backed up critical astroschyzy files — eliminating great deal of whiny oh-woe-is-me. wondering: why can't we develop green energy instead of nuclear energy? considering grief stage (where am i?): Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. learned Northanger Abbey is l'Abbaye de Northanger in french. listened to it's my party & i can cry if i want to while dusting off my feel free to whine here sign. contemplating: Go placidly amid the noise and haste, And remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story ... You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.


before i shower, shave & bravely sally forth to deal with my so-called-free life in murka, i stop to journal this: a day of chaos, destruction and death & let's flip that sucker over and baste it with raw goat butter and sear it on the open flames of divine justice and bliss and intellectual fire and white-hot orgasm and burn it new. Let us take the rather flaccid word tolerance and pump it full of Ecstasy and medical marijuana and sake and real divine love and fancy book learnin', turn it on its head and spin it like a bottle and reclaim it from the neocon Right and turn it into, say, giddy outrage. Or radical reconsideration. Or ecstatic rebellion. Or wet conscious electric pointed awareness. Is this not a better way?


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