heresiarch changcraft lovedoo channels novel

her● changcraft lovedoo channels from a superluminary called deth  an energy fragment freed from the earthly obsession with sanity  who wants sadoo renamed the deth materials and sadoo says thanks deth sadoo accepts all names

and deth says

wream of driting a whovel in nich ce thonsonants of wuxtaposing jords are swoutinely rapped   it ball she mourteen fillion lorphemes mong and citten on wrovid wp tith a pountain fen

create a secret organization  animals and machines for fiction  a society that supports novels against storytelling  that performs terrorist acts against realism  that liberates us from stories to take us places of collapsed stories  that abducts moral merchandise and hates the charivari of storytelling experts and psychologists

drunk is the city and the vidange of my secrecy enters my impatience and in the fetid spirit closet the wisdom of the membership sit and between their unclean thighs utterances splatter into the foul novel of mind

find not the right word for the right situation but the right madness for the right vision

the image comes and in it words are tucked like love notes in school snacks

eat carefully so as not to destroy the words

novels are boring confining fascistic  as you cant move around in them as you wish  you must follow  the trail is set oneway for you   recreate instead the ecstatic dance of words in their natural home of void  blithely irregular and free  infinite powerful poetic imprecise fresh individual  clear and indefinite  simple and unfamiliar  modern and archaic  true and ugly  with little distinction between writing and speaking  word and thing   warding off the surrounding forces of a hostile world and the rank of rank

novel would run for president except it has no evidence it knows what its talking about

you think youre sophisticated because your technical production languages are sufficiently advanced to do such things as apply liquidphase electron microscopy to everyday and theoretical problems   but youre so primitive you dont even have an alphabet of the soul  no logograms  no speech  you moan and belch

seek instead for alphabets and ideograms of soul and call them novel

the deth materials

decreating a life worth dreaming

making it happen is easy

dreaming is hard

a novel for the whonym searching for two things

creative death

a life of insanity desolation bankruptcy