The Divine Order of Throbbing Violent Cosmic Love – James Krendel-Clark
October 23, 2019
“I’d really love to break your heart”
-Tears for Fears, “Shout”
“There is no fear in love: but perfect love casteth out fear. (1 John 4: 18)”
-quoted in “The Oxytocin-Vasopressin Pathway in the Context of Love and Fear” by C. Sue Carter
“Man is always a wizard to man, and the social world is at first magical,”
-Jean-Paul Sartre, “The Emotions: Outline of a Theory”
The following is an excerpt from a propaganda pamphlet propagated by The Divine Order of Violent Throbbing Cosmic Love, a secret society (maliciously labeled a “cult” by its multiplicitous detractors who sometimes lurk around the back of its meetings, looking for dirt that would disqualify the order and render its activities illegal; so far no dice though) rumored to operate out of the murky, leaky basement of the controversial poet and performance artist (and possible political agitator) Candy Rhizomatic, somewhere in the city of Somerville, MA. If I were you I would take it with a gigantic grain of salt, but I see no reason not to make public this rather strange set of instructions which I received while present at one of their mysterious gatherings. It has certainly caused me to re-evaluate some of my most fundamental philosophical tenets, and even shaken me to the very foundations of my core, at times. So I advise you to employ these ideas only with serious caution. Seriously. You’ve been warned. This is your last chance to turn back. Well, okay then…
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Welcome, initiate, to The Divine Order of Violent Throbbing Cosmic Love! The path to universal unity is steep, but take heed, your heart is a flaming weapon, my child, a grenade that explodes in the face of your enemies and embraces your loved ones in its fiery grip, friends and enemies alike are incinerated in the dark glow of your hungry and ferocious love, charred by the telepathic, supernatural kiss of this love that laps at all barriers and boundaries until every dike and dam is eroded, and the furious waters of the libido penetrate and connect every network, every rhizome, love is a constellation, love is your salvation, love is as relaxing as a vacation! Embrace the words of our saint and savior, Candy Rhizomatic, and learn the ways of our “seven steps to heaven”. Begin your apprenticeship, and soon you too will be weak at the knees and soft in the jaw with amorous intoxication, as will your friends and enemies, also, who I assure you will be stunned by your incredible success and growth in all areas of life! Mazel tov! Congratulations! How incredibly fortunate for you!
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1. Gateway of the first telepathic kiss:
You walk through the city, your shy intoxicating smile alluring to both friend and foe; you shiver with the power of the mystery of love, your teeth glisten, ooh, it just tickles you, it’s so crazy. Every fold of your face embraces each stranger with a potent purple mist, and you feel in your aching hungry muscles the power of the cosmic spinning sun of the tetragrammaton. Your chakras light up in oozing flame of divine delight, there is a spring in your step, a spark in your eye, and your cheeks have a ruddy rouge to em’, your eyelashes flutter deliciously and there is a warm breeze flowing through the pretty trees, chirping with adorable little birds. Hello birds! You are totally head over heels and connected to everything, and the universe capitulates to your throb, like a vortex of ambition and sex that accelerates out of control, yet pulses with a beat that makes you totally insatiable, leaves you panting for more, like at a disco on MDMA. You’ve just gotten a marvelous new haircut and dyejob and a new tattoo and already your palpating fingers begin to embrace every corner of this newly enchanting globe which you orbit deifically, magically fingering every face, playing spectrally across the telepathic facial lips of friend and stranger alike like a stringy spiderweb. You have fucked the sun, you have lurked along both left and right-hand paths, the tree of life rises in you like a flaming emblem of universal interfuckingconnectedness. Damn, it feels so good!
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2. Gateway of the second telepathic kiss:
You grit your teeth in a crazy, stupid ecstatic smile. Shit-eating. You look amazing in your new nose-ring. There is an order to your adornments, a sacred meaning. Your love is like a plague, an apocalypse upon the earth. Both friend and foe wilt in ecstatic delight to the tune of your jangling heart-strings, which play a gentle yet powerful, hypnotic melody, powerful and repetitive, catchy and sturdy, like a pop-song. Everyone is listening to this cosmic refrain that you secrete from every gaping pore, every pore violent as the sun and beautiful and tender as a rose etched in crystal. Vibrations out of control shatter every windowpane. Your heart is a bomb. A bomb! Equal to the earth, both E X P L O D E as every actor, every node of every god damn network tinkles like a chandelier buzzed with the vibe of your smooth, smooth, smooth love //
Now you find yourself in a deliciously hip restaurant where you sip sexy cocktails, sutured to its chandelier, and a familiar friend (or foe, makes no difference) dressed in strands of striated silk winks at you, seductive as an avant-garde stripper or drag artist, from behind huge forkfuls of expensive foie gras. Life is pure luxury, you discern, and you are a disseminating node-of-luxury (N.O.L.), infiltrating the network with comfort and relaxation and silky cosmopolitanism, accelerating deliriously. Your meditation is intense, and it centers you in the glow of your love, your orifices alert and poised. When you walk down the street, every body that passes you lights up with the same excitement, and their orifices turn to face your orifices. You have achieved total material, earthly success and harmoniousness. You are a puppeteer of life, a golden-ergonomic yogic-kabbalistic guru. Congrats. There’s more though. Don’t stop reading just yet.
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3. Gateway of the third telepathic kiss:
You enfold your hands in the warm coldness of prayer’s stunning cosmic silence, your fingers form a stonecold rose of ideal Platonic beauty. From a state of utterly centered equipoise, like a statue you stand in the middle of the stormsun, your devout and holy mind expands and neatly envelops the universe in its gentle, ontological-prismatic ooze, an ooze as precise in its flowrate as a steel-trap machine, yet still stunningly yummily slimy as good ooze is. Every corner of your being is being neatly folded and tucked in firm yet springy, spongy post-Newtonian non-Euclidean repose by the physics of the fingers of god’s geometrical-algebraic cupidity. Every last trace of cynicism is erased from your brilliant brain and its shimmering lobes (which also resemble a rose). Your love has become a concentrated beam at this point, like a laser, almost. It surgically carves the third eye of every stranger you pass into a shimmering diamond of enlightenment, instantly initiating them into the akashic archives of your labyrinth of lust, adorning them in your glory, in your minotaurmask. You find out that you have the power to seduce the entire world. You must use this power wisely, but how could you not? You are the very essence of wisdom, you are a knight of knowledge! You blow gobsmacking kisses of nirvana into the face of every worn and tarnished princess that you pass, leaving them dazzled and polished in your warm, transcendental fingers of vibration. They lean in, trying to drink up your mystery even more. Your shy reserve leaves them thirsty as you hide the sun of your face behind your flirty fingers. You mischeviously hand them a copy of this very pamphlet and storm off, leaving them dazed like a bride abandoned at the altar, yet utterly, utterly starstruck.
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4. Gateway of the fourth telepathic kiss:
You want to kiss the whole world, and you do. Your sticky smooch encircles every orifice of its vast globular, pitted surface, and leaves it dripping with your delirious, dreamy, god-level drool. Everyone is draped in this tender ooze, all are lubricated by your lubricious religiousness. You wear tight jeans and decadent leather jackets as you stroll seductively through the city. You are decadent not less than Huysmans himself. Nodes light up. Nodes on fire. Nodes haircut fiery flames flames flames! Eyeballs!! FLASH!!! Strangers stop just to feel the outline of your lips, to scan and photograph them and memorize their topological structure, they are 3D printing a gigantic statue of your mouth in the center of town, it stands outside the town hall as a golden Stalinist emblem of your mighty oral orifice, your sovereign snout, posed in a pout of total power. Copies of your lips are jettisoned into space by teams of astronauts so that the aliens can memorize their sexy surfaces and folds and respond in kind. And this is just one of many ludicrous publicity stunts that decorates your fame (for soon they are doing the same thing with your hips, they want to mould and map each beautiful zone of you, the purity of your beauty the epitome of charisma and authority), like decals or badges gleaming in the light on your general’s uniform, you smile generously as you accept a series of increasingly prestigious awards and embrace this outpouring of your genius with dignified magnanimity. Naturally you are not charmed by mere earthly pleasures and prizes, but you can appreciate their value to the common man-on-the-street, their symbolic thrust, their political purpose, the machiavellian agenda implied by this sociologically necessary incentive. The message of your luscious lips continues transmitting into every corner of the civilized earth.
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5. Gateway of the fifth telepathic kiss:
Nirvana is approaching terminal equilibrium. Singularity beckons. Every commercial, every scrap of newspaper signals, somehow, crazy paranoia of course, but it’s all real, SO REAL, it signals YOU it signals the arrival of your THROBBING LOVE, your DIVINE ENTHUSIASM, your WILD KISS. You focus the delta waves of your brain into continuous beamwork, blasting every world-leader and cultural celebrity with MESSAGES D’AMOUR, with the secret of your throbbing beaming sparkling exploding heart and its WORK. THIS WORK IS YOUR SOLE AND ONLY FOCUS IN LIFE. You have tasted the delights of worldly pleasures, now you must transcend to another, more vital cosmic plane, ya dig? Where angels dance on pins and tutelary spirits titillate you with amazing secrets. You dance defty through these intricately structured astral realms, performing elaborate masquerades where you tap dance the morse code of the spirit like a secret agent, drumming the palms of angels with encrypted treats, morsels of information that distribute themselves over the arcing dilating dome de la monde, ensuring all goes smoothly with things spiritual and materiel. You take in elaborate aesthetic-sensual feasts, balletic performances of elves and fairies, pixies and frenchmen, sipping moon-nectar and doing yoga with god. And yet this is still not the highest level.
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6. Gateway of the sixth telepathic kiss:
The world is an interlocking meshwork of soft caresses that originate in your mouth, in your tongue’s own phallic dance of speech. An operatic tapestry of singers who all seem to say the same thing: THROBBING COSMIC VIOLENT LOVE IS TRUTH. THE YOGA OF OUR DIVINE ORDER IS SOVEREIGN. LOVE PIERCES YOU LIKE AN ITCH THAT ENTERS ONE SIDE OF YOUR BODY AND GOES OUT THE OTHER LIKE A RAINBOW ARROW. YOU GO TO THE GYM EVERY DAY AND GET TOTALLY JACKED. YOU GET BEAUTIFUL TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS ACCENTUATING THE MUSCLES AND ORIFICES OF THIS MYSTICAL VESSEL, YOUR BODY. YOU LIVE A CAREFULLY CURATED LIFESTYLE THAT YOU CAN REALLY BE PROUD OF, WRITE A SELF-HELP BOOK BASED ON, EVERY OBJECT HAS ITS USE, EVERY MATERIAL HAS ITS AURA, YOU HAVE THEORIZED AND PLANNED ALL OF ITS RELATIONAL RITUALS WITH THE UTMOST METICULOUSNESS AND THE SINCEREST FOCUS, SPRAWLED OUT ON YOUR PENSIVE DIVAN. YOU BECOME A MASTER OF KUNG FU AND BAGUA. YOU LEARN EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT COMPUTERS, AND THE PROGRAMMING THEOREOF. YOU START A PROSPEROUS BUSINESS VENTURE THAT INSTANTLY SUCCEEDS. SPIRITUAL AND MATERIAL SUCCESSES CIRCLE AROUND EACH OTHER LIKE TWO SPIRALING MOUTHS THAT TONGUE FUCK EACH OTHER ETERNALLY IN LOVE IN LOVE IN LOVE IN LOVE IN LOVE. IT’S THE MOST AWESOME EPIPHANY EVER. BUT THERE’S STILL ONE MORE STEP TO DO, YET.
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7. Gateway of the seventh telepathic kiss:
ARE YOU READY? FORGET EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW. THE SECRET OF LIFE IS THROBBING VIOLENT COSMIC LOVE, THIS TRUTH SCREAMS IN YOUR THROAT AND BRAIN, THIS TRUTH THROBS IN EVERY OTHER BODY THAT IS STABBED BY THE BRILLIANT SOLAR ARROWS THAT SHOOT FROM EVERY PORE AND ORIFICE OF YOUR OWN BURNING BODY, LACERATING EVERY LITHE LITTLE LOVER THAT FLITS THROUGH YOUR SCENE, THE DIVINE DATING APPS DOVETAILING IN YOUR LIFESTYLE SEGMENTS CRAWLING LIKE INSECTS ON FIRE THEIR CODE UNRAVELING AT THE CENTER OF THE SUN, EACH STRANGER LURCHING TOWARD YOUR MOUTH TRYING TO TONGUE ITS SECRET, FINGER ITS INTERIORITY, LILLIPUTIAN SUITORS CLAMBER OVER YOUR GIGANTIC BODY LIKE LEPERS AND SEEK ITS VITAL FLUIDS, THIS SACRED MOISTURE PULSING OUT OF EVERY HOLE IS THE HOLY NECTAR OF THROBBING LOVE, THIS HEALING SALIVA OR MUCUS STREAMS IN STICKY STRANDS IN PSYCHIC FRENCHKISSING TRANSCENDENCE OF DATING A REALLY NICE PERSON THAT YOU RESPECT AND IS TOTALLY COMPATIBLE WITH YOU IN EVERY WAY. YOU HAVE CHECKED OFF EVERY BOX NOW. THERE IS NO GOING BACK. YOU TOO CAN ENJOY THE PERFECT LIFESTYLE IF YOU EMBRACE THROBBING VIOLENT LOVE. TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS, TELL YOUR ENEMIES, TELL THE WORLD. AT NO ADDITIONAL COST. EVERYTHING IS FALLING INTO PLACE. AND SOON THE TOTAL SOLAR SMOOCH WILL BESMIRCH EVERY CHURCH, AND CRUSH EVERY STATE POWER, AND WE WILL RULE OVER ALL WITH OUR BEAUTIFUL LUSCIOUS LIPS OF VIOLENT DEMONIC-SOLAR LOVE LOVE LOVE. POSTER EVERY ALCOVE WITH OUR PROPAGANDA.
WELL? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GET OUT THERE, GET ON THE DATING SCENE, YOU’RE ONLY YOUNG ONCE! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!
-<3 CANDY RHIZOMATIC