A Sinister Sport

Posted: July 30th, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Alchemy, Anarcho-Nihilism, Anarchy, David Myatt, Drecc, Dreccian, Generation Three, Heretical Texts, Iteration Three, Labyrinthos Mythologicus, Mundanes, National Socialism, Next Generation, Nihilism, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, paganism, Phase Three, Reichsfolk, Rounwytha, Satanic Heresy, Satanic Polemics, Sinister Japes, The Sinister Dialectic, The Sinister Game, The Sinister Tradition, The Sinisterly Numinous Tradition, Third Iteration | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Sinister Sport

.:.It’s still one of my favorite ONA sinister fictions. Over a decade ago, through one of my Old Guard liaisons, I had asked Anton Long to write for us Dreccs, something special that teaches the Essence of the Way of the Drecc. I was expecting AL’s familiar ideological writings, where he’d produce a few “Manuscripts” explaining the idea behind the Way of the Drecc and “teachings.” Instead, AL used his own youthful life’s experiences to create a fiction story, based on his exeatic youthful life. He named that story “A Sinister Sport,” and signed it off as Steven Brown, one of his old pseudonyms.

The story shows, via story model, the meaning of the ONA word “Exeatic,” as well as the practical side of the ONA phrase and term: “Presencing The Dark.” It is just the Essence. You take that Essence as a Drecc, a Niner, an ONA Initiate, and you put together your own Form.

There is an Essence, Essential… Fundamental elements/principles of Christianity. And then there are the Forms: Catholicism, Orthodoxism, Protestantism, Evangelism, and so on. And each of those Forms spawn new Forms.

There is the Essence of Dharma, which is the Fundamental body of principles. And then there are the Forms: Brahmanism, Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism. And each of those Forms spawn new Forms: Theravada Buddhism, Mahayana Buddhism, Vajrayana Buddhism. And those Forms mix and merge with other forms: Taoism + Mahayana Buddhism = Chan Buddhism; Shintoism + Chan Buddhism = Zen Buddhism; Bon Po + Mahayana Buddhism = Tibetan Buddhism.

There is the Essence of Life, which are based on the Essential and Fundamental elements and principles of bio-organic life. And then there are the Forms: Fish, Amphibian, Reptile, Bird, Mammal. And those forms each spawn new Forms… Forms of Life, or Life Forms: sharks, frogs, snakes, crows, cats. The Forms carries and conveys the Essence you see? The Forms are like vehicles that carries the Essence. Hence: “Yana” as we call such in Buddhism. Yana meaning a “Wagon.” The Wagon carries the Essence. There are different styles and models of cars: some move faster than others, some have more horse power than others. Just like there are different styles and models of biological organisms. Each Lifeform is a vehicle which carries the Essence of Life into the Future.

Mother Nature allows Life to take on any Form it wishes. And during the Cambrian Explosion, Life did take on many bizarre Forms. She must allow that Freedom to take on any Form: because the most successful Forms continues Mother Nature. This is a principle of Nature, a Law of Nature, that the Essence be allowed to take on any Form it wishes. And that within the matrix and flow of Time, what Forms can adapt, evolve, Thrives. And it is in that Thriving, that ability to Thrive, that the Essence is carried into the Future to spawn new generations of Forms.

And so it also is with ONA. There is an Essence to the Sinister Tradition. And all of us in ONA may tweak, change, ONA as we wish. All of us may mix and merge ONA with whatever we wish. All of us may use the ONA, in whole or in part, to make our own Form of the Essence. There is no such thing as equality in Nature. And so, no two Forms of ONA are the same, have the same quality, orientation, goals, operations, etc. Most Forms we create will die away in time. Just like most life forms in the Earth’s past have died away. Only some – the few that can Thrive and Adapt – will spawn new Forms in the Future: in future generations.

By “Adaptation” what I mean in Reality [re: Realism] is that as each generation grows old and dies away, such old generation takes with them to their grave their world-views, world-orientations, political ideologies, opinions, emotions, hates, likes, interests, and so on. And each new generation comes into the world with their own set of interests, level of intelligence, mental capacity, world-views, world-models, opinions, etc. Therefore: if you or your organization cannot adapt to such change of generations: you or your organization will go extinct.

The old generation and their Old World is having a very hard time adapting to the change of generational environment. It is like Television did to radio. Like Automobiles did to Horse carts. In our new world, the internet is an integral aspect of our generation’s world and life. by the internet, via our smartphones, we can have access to the world body of information and data, socialize, buy shit, read books. Our generation doesn’t have to go to a library to borrow books. We don’t have to go to a bookstore to buy books. We don’t have to go to stores to buy shit. We don’t need to walk around to look for groups and friends to socialize with, because we can do so on the internet. We don’t need a church when we have access to spiritual stuff a google away.

And so, the old generation, and their old world stuff like libraries, churches, fraternal organizations [Masons, Elks, Odd Fellows], book stores, and so on are Forms that are dying, because they can’t adapt to the internet and our Digital Age.

Ten years ago, the old generation [X Generation] of mundane Satanists laughed at ONA for having a big presence on the internet. For using the internet to recruit and acquire new initiates. For using the internet, PDFs, blogs, to share ONA texts. They laughed at us and mocked us. Because those stupid hubriatic fucks are ignorant to the Natural Laws/Principles of TIME and EVOLUTION. They don’t know what evolution looks like when they stare at it in the face. And then, when ONA’s membership incrementally exploded: the same breed of hubris prone short-sighted mundanes cried and bitched. And the Leftists cry and bitch.

They are a stupid and ignorant breed of human being. They talk like they know shit. They say shit like: “nip it at the bud.” But they don’t know the Laws and Principles behind the phrases they say. Had they known: they would have nipped ONA at the bud decades ago. But they didn’t. Why not? Because they spent their time mocking and laughing and ignoring. It’s too late now. It’s hard to stop a moving train. There is Power in being over-looked, in being under-estimated. They leave you alone to brood and fester… and evolve.

Don’t be like those idiot mundanes. Learn to adapt to the Digital Age. Information must Flow. And if in the next decade, there comes new Forms of communication and information sharing: adapt and use those things to spawn your Forms. And do not stick with just one Form. Copy-cat Mother Nature: the Forms carry the Sinister Essence. Take what you need from ONA, and create as many Forms as you can. And be Fruitful and Multiply.

Anyways, here’s A Sinister Sport:

Leeds, 1973

It was nothing unusual, at least for Steve and his chosen three skinheads, to loiter in the sodium-lit night, on The Headrow or the streets around, waiting for some unwary mundane to pass them by to be followed to be relieved at knifepoint, or the threat of a kicking, of whatever money or possessions they carried or held. But it was for The Plumb, the young lad of slim physique and shaven head whose new swastika tattoo, on his forehead, still itched.

Plumb was a novice at this sporting game, and, knife ready, somewhat nervously waited for the test that would – that might – begin to make his name among Steve’s crew. It was not a long wait, that early evening of light drizzle where the slight warmth of late October had given way to the dreary coldness of November, and they – at Steve’s gesture – followed the middling aged suited briefcase holding man for only some yards when Plumb’s stiletto blade stuck him in the back. He groaned, slightly, before he fell, gasping – but they wasted no time on him, for only his money, his watch, any saleable goods mattered, and he was left there where the cold wet dirty pavement became a pillow for his face as they laughing scampered back to the safety of their den.

It was a single third floor room in a block of rented office rooms whose grimy small single un-openable window gave at least some view of the Infirmary across the street, and it was there, on the bare un-carpeted floor where thieved goods lay stockpiled almost to the ceiling, waiting, that they divvied up their share. Plumb got the cash, such as it was; and Steve and his crew the rest: a watch; a gold ring; the leather briefcase; perhaps a saleable newish wallet. But their value was incidental, purely incidental – at least that time.

Later, the darkness found them mischief-heading westerly, after a bevvy of beer had been downed at their favourite haunt where the relative wideness of Woodhouse Lane gave way to the narrower streets that northeasterly lay to sedately tumble down in terraced houses toward that tall-chimney of the quaintly-named “Leeds Corporation refuse destructor” on Meanwood Road, and where in a nearby house Steve spent the occasional night in the confines of a stuffy garret, with young shop-girl Lesley. He did not know then – and would not have cared even had he known – that centuries before, and only a gunshot away, Royalist forces had been bloodily defeated at the Battle of Meanwood Valley during his ancestors’ Civil War.

So, steadily but never furtively, they – buoyed by beer, youth, hate, and pride – made their way to serried terraces southwesterly between Woodhouse Moor and Burley Road. At Steve’s instigation, Plumb knocked on the door of a house, and it was not long before a skinny young man in black leather jacket, dirty T-shirt and jeans, opened it. Plumb punched him in the face, and he fell over backwards to where a discarded newspaper lay upon a lino floor near and steps led upward to dank, small, upper rooms.

“That’s for grassing, you cunt!” Plumb shouted as the skinny young man tried to get to his feet.

But Plumb pushed him down before kicking his head three times, and the young man was unconscious when Steve and his crew entered.

Steve threw a leaflet over the prostrate now bloodied body before they all left, laughing. On the leaflet – only a swastika, the letters CoC, and the words: “Violence purifies and makes the man.”

The stolen car took them recklessly fast out from the city of Leeds to near where the rocks of Almscliffe Crag rose beyond the Harrogate road and gave, in daylight, views toward the Vale of York. And it was there on the top of that rocky outcrop they assembled in that drizzle-filled darkness for Plumb to take his oath.

It was a simple oath – a personal pledge of loyalty to Steve, his comrades, his crew and their new Clockwork Orange Cult – and soon was over, so that they scampered, laughing, lustfully, satiated with feral life and memories of violence, down from their eerie to head back eastwards where Steve, as promised, had prepared for them a surprise.

The girls were waiting in that rented well-furnished well-cared-for Woodhouse terraced house above the fringe of Meanwood Ridge, and Mark, their pimp, greeted Steve – as the friend, and comrade, that he was – there where joss sticks perfumed the houseful-air and Slade’s Look Wot You Dun played loudly, beatingly, through speakers wired to some Hi-Fi system, recently liberated from some city-centre store.

There was some dancing then – or what passed for dancing – among the crew and the girls until they paired off to upstairs rooms leaving only Steve, Mark, and Ruth. Ruth the dark haired – older than the others, whose young son was in the so-called care of Social Services; Ruth the voluptuous, who sat, skimpily if fashionably dressed, waiting curled up on a sofa; waiting, for Steve her favoured lover to take her to her bed. But it was to be nearly an hour before her desire became fulfilled, and so she sat and watched him as he and Mark schemed, plotted, and dreamed.

At first, their talk was of Eastman, the non-family traitor who had betrayed a friend to the Police. Would that warning of the evening suffice?

“If not – ” Steve said harshly, and gestured death with his hand. They both knew that had Eastman been a part of their crew, or even if only the person he betrayed had been, then his fate of death would that night have been assured.

“Plumb? How’d he do tonight?” Mark asked.

“Good. He did well.”

“Useful?”

“Yep. I’m going to team him up with Phil at the Depot. He starts there Monday. He’ll be our runner. There’s a shipment due Friday.”

“Usual stuff?”

“Nope. Electrical goods, this time.”

“I’ll let Jamie know.” Jamie was their fence, a small rather portly middle-aged man of vast experience and canny if mournful countenance who had thrived in the rationing post-war years and who, though well-known to the Police, had never ever been to Court, for although his second-hand emporium in a back-street by the Wharf regularly received visits from The Plod, they never ever found anything suspicious, or stolen. Or, at least, that they could prove was stolen.

“Usual divvy?” Mark asked.

“Yep – but small bonus for Plumb.”

“Gesture?”

“Yep. He might even spend it here!” Steve laughed.

So they talked, laughed, planned, plotted, schemed, until at last Steve came to take her hand, leading her gently – almost lovingly – toward and into her room where they lay, naked, entwined for quite some time, gently touching, kissing, feeling the warmth, the soft human warmth, of each others’ bodies. It was for this – for such as this – that she almost loved him. Almost: had she not by the experience of her past stopped herself. And so they lay together, warmly warm, and silent, with only the distant sound of music below; the sounds of their lips touching; their breath breathing; and his fingers feeling her moist waiting wetness.

At first, he had seemed such a contradiction to her. But she no longer cared. It was his company and his body that she craved; even needed; and she would listen to him speak, for hours, in his almost accentless voice as he spoke of his plans, his visions, his passions, his theories, his interests and his hopes. Thus did she listen to him again later that night after their passions had flowed and flowed to ebb with the passing hours of their intimate, sexual, embrace.

“It’s the essence of the sinister, you see, ” he was saying to her as she lay naked, propped up on pillows in her bed, smoking one of her small cheroots while soft light from a bedside lamp bathed them and the glow of Dusk began to dully glow, as dark retreated beyond that window of their world.

“Experience. Going to, beyond, your limits. Transgressing laws, all limits. Learning. Exulting in life, and treating the mundanes as the idiots, the expendables, the resource, they are.”

Then, quite suddenly, his tone changed. “I’d like you to leave, here, this house,” he said. “And stay with me. We’ll get somewhere.”

“Don’t be daft!” she said in her broad Yorkshire accent, and slightly laughed.

“I mean it. I want you to get more involved. Assist me.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yep. Very.”

“But I don’t know anything about the Occult and Satanism.”

“You don’t have to. They’re just words. Words which obscure the essence. Useful – sometimes. But otherwise irrelevant. Like the current name my crew use – CoC. I’ll change it; maybe soon for something maybe permanent. It was only temporary, anyways, that outer name.”

She finished her cheroot, and lit another one, and he continued. “It’s essentially just a way of living. A way of life. It’s not really about rituals and all that crap that the mundanes think it’s about. It’s about us – individuals – excelling; enjoying. Taking risks. Changing ourselves. Evolving. Exulting. About creating a new way of life; freeing ourselves from the tyranny of laws; from the tyranny of the Police; of governments; of The State. Being ourselves.”

“And making money,” she laughed.

“Of course!”

“But -” she began to say.

“Mark agrees.”

“You what?”

“About you leaving here. He – and I – want you to take over running the girls.”

“So what’s he going to do, then?”

“He’s gonna open a new branch of our venture, in York.”

“I see.”

“Naturally, I’ll have some lads stay here to look out for the girls.”

“Naturally!” And she laughed again.

“What’d you say, then?”

Aroused, she said all that then needed to be said with her body, until satiated again, she lay beside him as, outside, the Sun rose into a strangely cloudless early Winter’s sky.

^^^

There was much that Steve wanted to do, and he had invited Plumb to join him for a drink in their favoured Pub in Woodhouse. Ruth was there, in the dimness of that traditional haunt, and Plumb could not help but ogle her breasts as he sat down beside Steve. But he knew better than to let his gaze linger or address her by name, and so he sat sipping his pint of beer.

“You’ve got someone interested, I hear?” Steve said to him.

“Yeah, mate of mine. Will.”

“Handy?”

“Shipley skins.”

“Enough said, then.”

“You wanna meet?”

“Yep, set it up. It’ll be a test.”

Plumb smiled. “Like mine?”

“Yep.” And both Steve and Ruth smiled. For she had come a long way in the two weeks since she and Steve had shared a house. That day of the test was a mournful if British one – for weather. For the wind was cold; the sky overcast and dull with cloud; and the slight persistent drizzle of that middle morning lent meaning to Julius Caesar’s long dead desire to live in far more sunnier healthier climes. Steve was there, with Plumb, and Will, the heavily- tattooed, waiting in the stolen car outside the shop. It was a kind of non-descript shop, selling jewellery, not quite in the city centre, and its décor and display seemed as if to say that its owner could not quite decide upon the intended clientèle. For there were some quite expensive items, among the rings and watches, and then some much cheaper tat while a middling assortment of second-hand items completed the rather mixed collection.

“Ready?” Steve asked Will, as the young skinhead of stocky build sat in the backseat of the car, clutching a sawn-off shotgun.

“Let’s go!” Steve said, and he and Will were swiftly out, masks on.

Steve pushed the one male customer aside, his right hand brandishing his revolver, while smashing displays with a hammer.

“Fill it!” Steve demanded of the customer, as Will thrust a small bag at him, and – obedient, like the trained mundane he was – he obeyed, stuffing it full of rings and watches. And then they were gone, outside, to where Plumb waited, ready and revving the car. Ruth’s old haunt claimed them, after the necessary change of outfits and cars, above the fringe of Meanwood Ridge, and Will and Plumb sat on a sofa in that well-incensed house while Steve inspected the haul.

“Good,” he said. Then, to Will: “You’ll get your cut in a couple of days, OK?”

“Yeah, sure,” Will said.

“You got a job?” Steve asked him.

“Nah, only thieving,” and he laughed, showing two teeth broken from fights.

“From now on, no freelancing, understand?” Steve said.

“Sure.”

“You do only the jobs we give you.”

“OK”

“Got some regular work, if you’re interested,” Steve said. “Right up your street.”

“Yeah?”

“Protecting our assets, here. Could be a rough, at times. Oh, yeah of course, you haven’t met them, have you,” Steve smiled. He called out, and, one by one, Ruth’s girls came in, all five of them.

^^^

Introductions over – as was his hour with the girl of his choice – Will was taken in a convoy of three crew cars amid the light of that day, such as that light was, to the rocks of Almscliffe Crag which rose beyond that Harrogate road and which gave, in better daylight, views toward the Vale of York. And it was there, on those topmost now rain-spattered rocks, that he gave his solemn pledge of loyalty to that crew.

“You’re family now,” Steve said. “Understand?”

“Sure.” And they all knew he meant it.

“We have some simple rules. First, we don’t betray our own,” Steve said to him. “Anyone who does is killed. No questions; no quarter; no delay. You’re in this for life, and if you ever show enmity towards us, your family, we’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

Steve paused for a moment before continuing. “Second, we all have equal shares of whatever we take or whatever our enterprises earn. No favouritism. Third, we care for our family. We respect them. We look after them; look out for them. We will risk our own lives for them, if required. All of them – women, children; they’re all our comrades. If you disrespect any member of our family, our kindred, you’ll suffer – you’ll be put on trial, before us, you’ll say your piece, and be judged and, if necessary, punished.

“Fourth, it’s the mundanes and us. Our folk, our kindred, our band of comrades, our family, against the mundanes. The mundanes and their property, all they have, are our resource. Fifth, the laws of the mundanes are irrelevant to us. The government, and especially the Police, are our enemy, servants of the mundanes – we expect no favour from them, no quarter, and we give them no favours, no quarter. Understand?”

“Sure,” Will said. And they all knew he meant it.

“Also, there’s only one leader, one chief. Currently, it’s me. You got a grievance, something to say, you come to me, say it to me to my face, in full earshot of others. We don’t ever talk about one of our brothers, one of sisters, behind their backs. If you’ve got a grievance against me, you face me with it, in full earshot of others.

“If you ever have a dispute with any member of our family, our crew, you bring it out into the open. If we can’t settle among ourselves, then you’ll settle it between the two of you, by a fair fight.

“If you don’t like my leadership, challenge me for it, openly. If necessary, we’ll settle the matter by a duel with deadly weapons. So, for leadership it’s a duel; for other disputes, a fair fight, in front of comrades.

“There’s no leaving your family. You’re part of us now for life; you’re our brother, for life. If you want to settle down with someone, or get married, she has to be either one of us, or become one of us. No exceptions. Same with our women-folk, our sisters – if they are serious about someone, wanting to settle down with them, maybe even get hitched, then he has to be either one of us, or become one of us. No exceptions. Same if you move away for some reason – you’re still family; still bound by your oath; our rules; and we may ask for your help, anytime; just as you can ask for our help, anytime.”

“And one last thing,” Steve said. “We have our own, small, tattoo. Our mark.” And he smiled, saying, “although I don’t know where you’re going to put it.”

Steve laughed, Will laughed; everyone laughed, for Will’s arms, hands and neck were already covered with tattoos.

^^^

S. Brown
ONA (Nexion One)
120 yf
Order of Nine Angles

A Sinister Sport
(PDF)

 

^^^

/Chloe


Spaewife

Posted: July 7th, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Acausal Theory, Alchemy, Anarchy, David Myatt, Deofel Quartet, Drecc, Dreccian, Druidry, Labyrinthos Mythologicus, Nihilism, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, paganism, Psychic Readings, Rounwytha, The Sinister Dialectic, The Sinister Game, The Sinister Tradition, The Sinisterly Numinous Tradition | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Spaewife


–ONA’s Black Book of Satan 1

 

.:.I started writing about Witchcraft in Nexion Zine 5.1 HERE. And then the entire issue of 7.1 [1800 pages] is about Magick, Sorcery, Animism, Paganism, and Witchcraft. I write so much, I forget where everything is. I was curious a few days ago about how many pages I’ve actually written. So I added up every page of each issue of Nexion Zine, plus Sinister Musings [which is 90% of my defunct onanxs.wordpress.com blog], plus Opus Vrilis, minus 100 pages [re-used ONA MSS], and I found out – to my surprise – that I’ve written approximately 6000 pages since 2006-2007; non-stop. You really do become the people you admire and look up to. There have been two constant people I have looked up to and secretly strive to be like for the past 10-13 years. The first is David Myatt. The second is Prozak [also known as Brett of Amerika.org]. Both of them write non-stop, year after year. And both of them, via their writings, have inspired and influenced people.

How do you know if your writings are worth anything, are of any value or import? By the writings’ content? By the writings’ erudition? By how many facts the writings contain? No. The Buddha tells us that you judge a Thing by its Vipaka [Fruit]; by the Fruit that it generates. Or as Jesus said: “By their Fruits…” The act of writing is the Kamma [karma], which literally means Work/Labor/Build. And you judge the work, labor, by the Fruit such work bears. You see? I can’t say too much about this subject, but to drop a hint about the Fruit I’m talking about: David Myatt, over the past 40-50 years, via his writings, under various pen-names, has inspired and influenced many people to become radicalized, extremists, who eventually… “Presences the Dark,” shall we say. Writing is an artform, or as ONA’s 21 Satanic Points say: “10. Forge not works of art but swords of death, for therein lies great art.” But anyways.

 

 

I didn’t always believe in psychics and psychic readings and seeing the future. But I was fortunate to have a few friends who were very good professional card readers, and some of the old people in my family and extended family can read cards. I have an aunt whose Vietnamese husband’s [my uncle] father was into magick and psychic stuff. My uncle tells me that before his father died, he burned all of his books and scrolls on magick and psychic stuff and forbade his children from learning it. The uncle’s father knew the exact day he was going to die. The uncle’s father left a note under his pillow, which had the date and time of his death. In our culture [Brahminical Southeast Asian], you need a Kru [guru], in order to have the supernatural ability to be very accurate with seeing the future. A Kru is a spirit who teaches and tells you shit.

And so, I got curious about psychic card readings. So, I spent the past 13 years buying [gradually] about $1000 worth of different psychic cards. Most of them were various kinds of tarot cards. Some were tea leaf reading cards, Lenormand, and so on. I try to use each deck to read with, and I test each deck. If the deck of cards fails the tests, I discard them and give them away.

The way I test my cards is I’ll ask them a number of questions for a couple weeks. I usually ask these questions: (A) What did I do yesterday? (B) What will I be doing today before I go to bed? (C) What am I going to do in 2 hours? (D) What will I experience tomorrow?

Those are my questions. I give each deck of cards only 2 weeks to prove themselves to me, or I discard them and never use them again. They must answer each question without being vague, without me needing to interpret shit. Just give me a normal, relevant, straightforward answer to the god damn question.

All of my psychic cards have failed me. They produce gibberish as answers. All except one: the Drecc Deck. And so, after a decade of buying hundreds of decks, and testing every deck, I only use one deck of cards now. The Drecc Deck, for some reason, has the ability to answer my test questions. The Drecc Deck is a form of Logomancy, which basically means that your answer is written out for you to read. Logomancy is one of the oldest forms of divination in China and the ancient world.

I use my personal Drecc Deck on an everyday basis. I carry them with me wherever I go. And so, after using them every day for years, I’ve learned to work with them. All I need are 3 cards. The words on the 3 cards then give me words and impressions and feelings. The words triggers your faculty of Empathy, and you empath your answer. The Logomancy of the Drecc Deck has an accuracy rate of 80-90%, and 90% of the time, the worded answers that it gives you is actually relevant to the question you asked.

So, my entire family now comes to me when they have a question, so I can divine an answer for them. All I need is 3 cards. One of my aunts regularly calls me, every other day, to ask me questions. This aunt invests in and trades trades stocks. She recently called me up to ask me and my Drecc Deck questions on 3 stocks she wanted to trade. The Drecc Deck told her that the first two she named were duds and that she should avoid them. So my aunt says: “What about an airline stock? I found an airline stock I like.” So I threw down three cards. They were positive cards. One card said that there is an increase and gradual growth. Another card said the word “government.” I asked my aunt what this airline stock has to do with a government. And my aunt says to me: “Oh yeah, the airline is partly owned by the Thai government.”

My other aunt asked my cards if she will be moving to Oregon, because she came down for a visit and loved the place. This auntie likes nature too. I threw down three Drecc Deck cards, and saw the logomantic message. The cards said that this auntie desires to move, but she can’t because her heart is tied to her son [my cousin], and her son does not want to move to rural Oregon. My auntie was amazed and admited that deep in her heart, she can’t leave her son behind.

My grandmother recently ask me to give her a reading. She wanted to know if any of my aunts and uncles will also move away from her to live in Oregon. The Cards said that one of her three sons, a slender one, will eventually relocate to Oregon. She knew which of my uncles the Drecc Dreck was referring to. She then asked me: “Can you see when I will die?” I threw down three cards. The cards said that it will be a while, and that she has nothing to worry about because two women [two of my aunts] will take care of her all her life, until she passes on. She was happy with the answer.

Besides the Drecc Deck, I also use the nkobos [seashells] and chamalongos [coconut shells] as divination instruments. A spirit that lives in my Fetish speaks through the shells. Those are just as accurate as the Drecc Deck.

I love divination. I used to be skeptical, but after experiencing it first-hand and directly, I know that it works… you just need the right species and tools of divination.

To supplement the Drecc Deck, nkobos, and chamalongos, I taught myself Qi Men Dun Jia:

Right now I am starting to teach myself Jyotish [Vedic Astrology/Horary] and Traditional Western Horary Astrology.

I bought a $300 Jyotisha software to work with:

The software is called Parashara’s Light version 9.

I also bought a $300 Western Horary program, called Solar Fire version 9:

So, when I’m not traveling or writing, I’m studying Vedic Jyotish, and Traditional Western Horary Astrology. Each has thousands of pages to study, and hundreds of charts to study.

What got me into Qi Men Dun Jia [Chinese Horary], Jyotisha, and Western Horary was reading about how they have been used to solve crimes! I love mysteries and crime solving. I suck so bad at the moment. But I can cast a Traditional Western Horary chart for a question and derive a Yes/No answer.

The Big Mystery is why divination works. To begin to learn that Big Mystery, you first have to study this book:

 

The book is called “The Elizabethan World Picture.” The term “world picture,” believe it or not, was the olden English term for what we today call a “World-View” or “World-Model.” Literally a “Picture” of how the World is and works. The natural philosophers and theological philosophers at that time understood a whole lot, and had it right; although they had “primitive” symbolical language to express what they understood.

So there is more – much more – to being o9a than being politically oriented. The ONA is essentially a Pagan Tradition. The problem is, in pop-culture occultism and also in academia, nobody knows or understands what the nebulous word “pagan” means. You can’t be something you don’t understand. I try to explain what “pagan” and “paganism” means in Nexion Zine 5.1, 6.1, and 7.1. My explanations are expansions of David Myatt’s simple, yet very accurate explanation. To paraphrase what DM said: Paganism is the -ism of the Paganus.

Ever since I got into ONA, I’ve been studying and striving to be a Spaewife [spae wife]. To be able to use divination to foresee the most probably future. To learn to know and dis-cover the magical and medicinal properties of plants by directly communing with the plants. To learn how to read the Great Book of Nature and understand Her doctrines/dharmas/principles. To learn to understand what the supernatural is and how to use it.

In o9a, there are things we write which are meant for Public Consumption [for the sake of the Mythos of ONA and the sake of the Labyrinthos Mythologicus], such as the political stuff you see here. And there are things that should remain a private aural tradition among us, taught from Mouth to Ear, person to person [initiate to initiate]; such as the Pagan Tradition, the aural wisdom of a Spaeman and Spaewife.

/Chloe

 

 

 

 


Urban Decay

Posted: June 22nd, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Acausal Theory, Alchemy, Anarcho-Nihilism, Anarchy, Current Affair, Leftists, Liberals, Mundanes, neo-marxism, News, Nihilism, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, Rounwytha, The Sinister Dialectic, The Sinister Tradition | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Urban Decay

.:.I’ve been busy as of late. I was traveling everywhere around Oregon, to explore my new State. Now I’ve been traveling and having meetings on official business/work. It’s so weird/wyrd because way back in 2003, a very good professional psychic and friend of mine gave me a reading. I had asked my psychic friend what my future career will be. My psychic friend said she saw that my future career would involve traveling a lot, taking airplanes across the country, and giving speeches and talks to groups of people. That psychic prediction never made any real sense to me… but now, in 2021, in Oregon, that prediction has come true.

I travel by myself and my expenses [hotel room] are all paid for or reimbursed [gas/mileage + food]. Last week, I was instructed to spend a whole week up in Portland by my superiors.

I had been to Portland only a few times, only to go to the big Asian supermarkets to buy groceries with my family and V, but our stay in Portland at that time was limited to only supermarkets by the freeway, far away from the “core” [downtown] of Portland.

Last week, my stay in Portland took me deep into the area around the core of Portland for the first time. As you slowly enter the metropolitan area of Portland, you hit traffic, and the scenery becomes ugly. It all looked like Los Angeles. And when you get off the freeway to drive the surface streets, you see the homeless tents. It was shocking: those tents were everywhere.

When I wasn’t inside some building or facility or hotel on official duty, I was driving around Portland, exploring and looking for places to get some lunch or dinner. As you drive around you see these port-a-potties at random street corners. At first I was perplex by their random placements, on sidewalks, on the corner of neighborhoods. But I quickly learned that those port-a-potties were for the huge homeless population who lived in tents adjacent to those portable toilets. There was trash everywhere. It all looked run-down, dark, sickly. As if the city suffered from some kind of disease. As if the city was suffering from malnutrition or something. It all looked dumpy. Like Tijuana or some third world country. Portland was a big dump. Like LA is a big dump.

These big metropolitan cities in America are dying, sickly, diseased, and turning into dumps. Naturally, there are many factors that generate such decay and dilapidation of cities. One major cause are Leftists and their progressive utopian ideological idealism [re: un-Realism].

It’s gotten to the point where it’s no longer a real crime to steal shit. They’ve made it hard for the system to imprison third world ethnic criminals, and are now demanding that everyone reports racists and extremists – even their own family members – to the authorities.

Some guy in San Francisco recently casually stuffed a trash bag full of shit, inside a store, unmolested and just rode away on his bike.

 

From a Theravada Buddhist perspective, there always exists a “tug-of-war” or dialectics between Order and Disorder: between Aggregation and Dis-Aggregation, between Con-Struction and De-Struction. Between systemic/systematic functionality and systemic/systematic break-down.

Shram [the opposite of the word “Ashram”] is the challenging/adversarial force in Nature which is the constant force of Decay, or Destruction; what ONA calls “Satan.”

That force of decay works to erode Nature away. And as time passes, the weak parts of Nature fall apart and goes away, while others adapt and survive. In this way, there is constant Change in Nature, and we call that Change: evolutionary development.

We don’t ever stop to notice that Evolution/Change involves a lot of death, destruction, and annihilation. The dinosaurs are an example. Homo Erectus and Neanderthals are more examples. Your 10-year-old Self is annihilated, destroyed, gone. The you that you are right now will be annihilated, gone, in 20 years time. Everything that physically exists are pretty much like sand castles on the beach: that ocean and its tide always works to erode everything away. It’s just a matter of Time/Change.

This principle/dhamma of Natural Dialectics is fractal and applies to everything in the universe, including human language and human civilization. Everything must change. And the force of that change is the Adversarial Force of Nature itself which works to destroy things [Shiva].

By that principle, our civilization must also change: it is the Law of Nature. And so therefore, there must exist a force of adversity which slowly erodes our societies and cities [think of Detroit and the Roman Empire]. In our human societies, Law and Order – meaning the laws that we create, via Ideology and so on – is the Force of Order, and Human Nature is the opposing force of Dis-Order.

Raw, untamed, uncontrolled Human Nature is like a hammer or mallet. A hammer or mallet simply crushes and smashes things, such as rocks/stones.

Law and Order [social contracts] are like chalk lines an artist draws on stone. The chalk lines brings Order to the naturally destructive force of the hammer: and in that way, the artist is able to use the force of that hammer for Con-Structive ends: to make a sculpture in this case. Or to build a temple.

Creation in essence is intelligence and wisdom applied to destruction and annihilation: when intelligence influences and governs the force of annihilation. Like how the Sculptor uses his intelligence and wisdom to control, influence, the hammer’s destructive force: making a sculpture involves destructive intelligent design where much of the rock or stone is destroyed in a deliberate way.

A river may be destructive where that it erodes the earth around it: but with applied wisdom, that same river can irrigate farms or spin turbines for electricity. Creation is when you control the force of destruction with wisdom and intelligence, with a Noble Mind.

All human civilization – empires, kingdoms, nation-states, whatever – come into existence by this very concept: killing is an aspect of Raw Human Nature: an army is Creation, a Creative Force, Creative Intelligent Design, where that raw human nature force of killing is deliberately controlled, influenced, governed, regulated, by intelligence and wisdom towards – for a – Goal, Destiny, Purpose. And when the force of collective murder is used to annihilate an enemy army and people: you have Created an Empire. In Theravada Buddhism we call this concept [per the Buddha] “Kamma Kusala” which means “Constructive/Skilled Work/Building”:

Without Law and Order [secular or otherwise], without Destiny [dharma], without a Purpose & Meaning, that Raw Human Nature [the force of the hammer] is unrestrained, aimless, purposeless, meaningless, chaotic, disordered, and becomes the force of decay and decadence. And so, in that way, Traditional Religion and Traditional Culture are very important: because they are very important factors which disciplines the raw force of Human Nature.

And so, our current/modern Western Society has lost two things: 1) The Artisan [arya castes of noble and honorable people] who wisely controls the raw force of Human Nature & 2) Traditional Religion, Traditional Culture, Destiny, Purpose & Meaning. If these two things remain lost: our Western Civilization, especially our cities, will crumble in time to the Force of Change. It’s the Law of Nature. And if those Leftist-Idealists remain in power: those two things will remain lost.

/Chloe


Beyond Abstractions

Posted: June 20th, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: David Myatt, Labyrinthos Mythologicus, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, Rounwytha | Tags: , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Beyond Abstractions

It seems that, sometimes, beings have the capacity via empathy to tap into something. To be reminded of their place in the universe, their partaking, their insignificance and momentarily transcend abstractions. They become aware of what trully matters instead of the usual illusory leanings that often lead them towards meaningless avenues and empty dreams of conquests and dominion. David Myatt has had many such moments throughout his lifelong quest which swayed between abstractions and becoming free of them through terrible ordeals. I am often reminded of his words in times of hardships and this piece especially -in my humble opinion- encompasses what happens when the pressure of opposites cease to exist. Then, there is only this personnal finding that silence, compassion and love are what lies ahead along with the death of the ‘ego’. We are reminded that we are temporal and ephemereal beings that can, for a very brief moment, experience stillness in a causal form with the capacity to share the love, the sufferings of others only later to return to the primal energies of the cosmos.

“The one of understanding, feeling the timeless nature of Existence, Does not exhort, nor preach, nor hold fast to any dogma: They are Silent, Pointing to the clouds in the sky. For each must find their own goal, in their own time: They who understand only guide those who earnestly seek, Those whose time for understanding has arrived. The tranquillity of life is in understanding of self, For thereby comes acceptance of the illusion of Existence: And they who are tranquillity become thus all life, Realizing the folly of action breeding violence. Yet they who are all life are Being, become – Waiting with tranquillity for the coming of death. With discarding of self comes the realization of eternity bringing sadness And with the realization of eternity comes the tranquillity of compassion. For they who are compassion merge with all existence And live thus in the wisdom of sorrow bringing tears. Yet they who cry know also the laughter of the moment: Blown away by the wind like the clouds in the sky. Thus does the seeker of the goal that is no goal Realize the unwisdom of words: Understanding wind in clouds in the sky. Those who transcend self by their many errors of experience – Understanding thus the serenity of silence – Need no outward chattel For they are richer than all the riches of Earth. Thus do they who quest after transcendence become still, A falling leaf turned Autumn brown Following the wind of the moment: Neither clinging to, nor striving against, The force of existence ever a dream in the end. They who are still Seek not the folly of the wisdom of worship, Nor the secrecy of shrines: For their temple is a swaying branch in a glade of trees Resting on a high hill beneath the wind-blown clouds in the sky; And their prayer is Silence.”  -David Myatt

-Beldam


Sinister Songs

Posted: May 23rd, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Drecc, Dreccian, Generation Three, Heretical Texts, Labyrinthos Mythologicus, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, Rounwytha, Satanic Heresy, The Sinister Game, The Sinister Tradition, The Sinisterly Numinous Tradition | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Sinister Songs

 

.:.”They have returned, from their Chthonic Womb, to the Middle World. Every 17 years, their Sinister Songs fill the air, like a Sinister Adhaan, calling us to prayer, recalling us into the darkness to pay homage to the Dark Goddess,” said the Mistress to the Chosen One.

The Chosen One took a deep breath and just nodded. There was a solemn look upon his aged face. He remained silent. Reflecting inward.

Said the Mistress to the Chosen One: “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” he said to the Mistress. “I want to do this. I want to be with my wife. This body of mine is ragged, sister. I can’t live with this cancer anymore.”

“Yes. She’ll be happy to be with you again. There is no greater sacrifice than giving your mortal self as an offering of your own free will and accord. Such Devotion is a precious gift to the Dark Goddess. Do you hear them singing in the trees? They call for you.”

He nodded and took another deep breath: “Let’s go,” he smiled at the Mistress, “to the red light district.”

“Okay, we’ll meet you there,” she hugged the Chosen One, to comfort him.

And so, he flew far away, on a plane, to the designated place where the ceremony would be held. It was a quiet place. A place surrounded by forests. A primitive place. An ancient river of Death.

Thus did he, the Priest of Satan, the Chosen One, in his white robe, walk barefoot, to the Temple, lit by red candles, outside along a forest, at the edge of the Holy Ganges river; on that night of the ceremony. The night was cold. The air filled with the aroma of musk and incense of Jupiter.

^^^

 


The End Of Civilization

Posted: May 18th, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Alchemy, Anarcho-Nihilism, Anarchy, Civil War, Current Affair, Drecc, Dreccian, National Socialism, Nihilism, O9A, O9A Nine Angles, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Order of the Nine Angles, Reichsfolk, Rounwytha, The Sinister Dialectic, The Sinister Tradition, The Sinisterly Numinous Tradition, World War Three | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on The End Of Civilization

 

.:.For as long as I have been living in Southern Cali, I’ve actually never been to most parts of LA, like Skid Row [where all the homeless tents are at], or to South Central. If you’re from a certain social class in Orange County: we try to stay away from that part of LA and pretend that it doesn’t exist. Out of sight, out of mind.

It wasn’t until I moved out here to Oregon, that I saw the homeless tent villages. We were looking for a big Asian supermarket to do some grocery shopping, and some Korean friends of my sister up in Portland told us about one. So we drove 4 hours up to Portland to meet up with them, in order to go shopping together.

We took the 5 freeway up to Portland. And as soon as you make the exit to enter Portland, there were all these fucking tents around the freeway ramps and bridges. For the first few seconds, I was confused in my mind, and thought to myself: “Geez, these Oregon people really like to go camping! Why are they camping out by the freeway of all places?” After seeing the type of people inhabiting that tent city, and seeing all the trash and graffiti, I suddenly realized two things: 1) That they were all homeless people & 2) That I suffered from “Orange County Vertigo,” where my conscious awareness simply believed that the whole world was all nice and fine like how everything in Orange County is. I’ve never been outside of California before or deep inside LA.

Driving around Portland was a weird experience for me. I was thinking to myself as I was driving: “What the fuck happened to this city?” I thought it was just Portland. I returned home, and googled “Skid Row,” and realized that LA is worse than Portland. I learned that in LA, the homeless population is a little over 60,000 people. There are about 63,000 people in total in the whole of Coos County! I thought it was just LA and Portland. Then we drove 2 hours to visit the city of Eugene. And as soon as you get off the 5 freeway, there were tent cities everywhere. It was everywhere. These metropolitan cities die.

And so I returned home, to my new countryside small-town-America of 9000 people to walk around the local river to contemplate. I realized on that walk that there are different kinds of psychological vertigos. There is Linguistical Vertigo, which is when you only speak, or think in, or know one single language. It’s a vertigo, because we understand our world by interpreting it via words [we think in language]. And if, for example, all you know is English, then that English language becomes your only lens whereby you perceive, interpret, the world: and so, as a result, the English Weltanschauung colors your world and how you understand it. Fortunately, I speak and think in English, but I know bits and pieces of Khmer, Spanish, Pali, Sanskrit, Greek, and Hebrew, which helps extricate me out of that English Vertigo.

I realized that another kind of Vertigo was an “Urban Vertigo.” This is when like me, you have been born and raised, and lived your whole entire human life inside of Cities. You spend your whole human existence surrounded by buildings, streets, street lights, traffic lights, cars, commercial districts, residential districts, city parks, law and order. You spend your whole entire human life in the Matrix of that City’s society and how its social order and political system functions and operates.

And so, being raised, born, bred, and lived in cities our entire human life, we see the world through the lens of that city/urban vector. And so therefore, because of that urban vertigo, the phrase: “Collapse of Civilization” sounds very bad, as if to paint the picture in our minds that the world ends when civilization falls. But is that the case? Being here in a rural area, far from urbanized areas, I don’t have that urban vertigo anymore!

The root word in “Civilization” is “Civil.” The word “Civil” has shit to do with the law and order of the society of a town or city-state. The word “society” is an abstract noun. By “society” we mean the actual people of a given area, their culture, how they live and interact with each other, and how their collective actions brings into being an economy [exchange of labor and goods/services] for said given area, and how such economy brings into being the welfare and well-being of all civil members/citizens/participants involved.

And so, when we say things like: “The Fall of Rome,” or the “Collapse of the Roman Empire,” we are speaking in abstract/reific terms that deal with nothing concrete in reality. What we mean in Reality [re: Realism] when we say “Roman Empire” is an Italic people who had military and political power to dominate much of the European continent. And therefore, when we say “dominate” in this case, what we actually/really mean is that said Italic people used military power [do what we say or we kill you and burn your towns down] to re-organize the civil order of towns and cities in territories such Italic people conquered. “Re-organize the civil order” means that as Rulers of those conquered cities, they created new Rules for people to follow. And with such new rules and regulations, the social order and functionalism of such cities and civil society operated differently. That’s what we mean by “Roman Empire.”

And so, when we say “The Fall of the Roman Empire,” what we really mean to say is that those cities, those urban centers, that were once under the rule of such Italic people failed to function, just like how your car one day fails to function: because a car and a city are both cybernetic entities, meaning that they are Systems, where Units that compose the System must work together in order for the System to function properly. The city of Detroit is a good example of a city that has failed to function. Hurricane Katrina is a great example of what the social order, the civil rules of New Orleans and adjacent areas failed to function cybernetically looks like. People during Hurricane Katrina, in that area ran amok, the cops fled for the lives, food and water stopped being shipped into the area, people killed each other for water bottles.

And so, when “Rome” “Fell,” the urban civilization of the Roman Empire may have collapsed, but the Rural folks in the countryside, continued to eke out a living and subsistence, as they always have.

So… although the Roman Civilization fell/collapsed, the Country Folk, and those urban people who fled cities into the Rural Countryside for safety, survived the fall of “Roman” “Civilization,” and eventually became the base/foundation of a new kind of civilization known as the Feudal City-State, which would eventually develop over many hundred of years into the various Kingdoms of Europe.

The civilization known today as “The United States of America,” will not exist forever. In fact, America [and the rest of the West] are in its civilizational life cycle of Decadence/Decay. One day, America will collapse as a social and political entity. But when it does collapse, the rural people, who live in those isolated pockets of small towns and villages out in Nature and the Countryside, will adapt, adjust, and continue living their human lives, until some new species of social and political power/entity comes into being.

And so, Aeonically speaking, it would be more wiser to invest o9a memes, the Sinister Tradition, and o9a’s Aeonic Aims/Goals in the Countryside, in Rural Folks. Because “civilization,” which is to say: the social and political system of urban/metropolitan centers, are subject to collapse and disfunction for many reasons.

If we know and understand that a civilization, like any living entity [biological or memetic] has a life cycle, and therefore grows old, weak, and dies, then it’s simply a wiser investment to put our bets on the “uncivilized people,” meaning those people who inhabit “Uncivilization.” And so, Countryside Nexions, may be a more stable means of actually seeding the future. Something like this:

Such Countryside Nexions would primarily be small local groups who live in small towns and villages and unincorporated areas. Their simple main purposes would be to conserve and preserve their Folk, Culture, Traditions, Customs, Ways of Life, and to prepare for the eventual collapse of urban society [meaning civilization]. Such a nexion would be mixed with Rounwytha & Animistic [or even neo-paganism or Heathenism], Reichsfolk, plus a few core ideas and concepts of o9a’s Sinister Tradition.

I think many observant people, and many intelligent people, are now beginning to notice that the world as we know it is heading in a very bad direction. China and Russia are up to something. Russia has troops next to Ukraine, Israel and Hamas are fighting and Russia threatens to get involved, China and Australia are throwing fighting words and threats at each other, China is getting aggressive with Taiwan… any of these situations, if such turns into an actual war, would most likely drag America in, and thus a Global Conflict has the potential to erupt. World War 3 is looking more likely as time passes. If America doesn’t fall from the outside [by way of war], it will collapse from the inside [homeless, drugs, abandoned cities, etc]. Or both.

This is what the Left and Right are fighting over: a sick and dying civilization. When the Buddha was a young man, he jumped the walls of his palace and ventured outside to see the external world for the first time. What he saw of the external world is called the 4 Adversities: 1) Old Age, 2) Sickness, 3) Death, & 4) A Shramana [feral ascetic]. Per Buddha: All things grow old, become sick and diseased, and die. Like the Shramana [one who Struggles/Shram] one must fight and struggle to survive, against that Current of Adversity, or decay. And holding onto the inevitable, holding onto what must change and decay, is the Cause of Dukkham [suffering].

America and the West is sick, diseased, and in a state of decay. As it gets weaker, it will not have the force to struggle against Shram, against Nature’s Force of Adversity: against Satan. Its cities and urban centers, and urban society will decay. And scavengers and vultures [China, Russia & Friends] will be there waiting to take the remains.

It’s times like this that reminds me of how right some of the Founding Fathers were. Many of the Founding Fathers were against the idea of having a standing army and also of America having Military alliances/treaties/obligations: we end up using our own money to fight other people’s wars, which results in our own citizens dying for the cause and objectives of other people and their interests.

If or When urban society and politics [civilization] falls, those city people, the Mundanes, the urban Satanists/occultists/neo-pagans/clowns, will be a bad investment of Aeonic Endeavor: they’d be the first to die. Primarily of starvation and lack of water. But they would be the first to die also because the only thing protecting them – keeping them safe – from Natural Darwinian Human Nature, is Law and Order. That Law and Order collapsed during Hurricane Katrina remember, which was temporary. When civilization falls, that collapse of Law and Order is permanent.

/Chloe


Country Life

Posted: May 13th, 2021 | Author: | Filed under: Alchemy, Civil War, Drecc, Dreccian, ghetto, Leftists, Mundanes, neo-marxism, Occultism, Order of Nine Angles, Rounwytha, The Sinisterly Numinous Tradition | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Country Life

.:.I made it to Oregon; and I got internet connection again. I now live in a very rural county called Coos County. I’ve physically adjusted easily to the new environment. But I’m having a very difficult time psychologically adjusting, because I’ve been born, raised, and living my whole life in Southern California, where everywhere you go there are cities, suburbs, and urbanized areas, giant shopping malls, and so on… and here, way out in the rural/countryside/boondocks: there is nothing but open vast open fields of emerald green grass, endless forests that go on forever in every direction, lakes and rivers everywhere you go, and lots of cows and sheep.

The countryside here in Oregon is very different than Orange County or LA! The biggest “city” here in Coos County is called “Coos Bay” which has a population of a mere 16,000 people! 16,000 People is like 10 Mexican neighborhoods back in LA! All of the other “cities” in Coos County are properly “Towns,” not cities. Each town here has a population of 9,000 or under. The towns are so small that Coos Bay has the only DMV in the whole county! I have to switch my California driver’s license to an Oregon one, and so I have to go to the Department of Motor Vehicles [DMV], and Coos Bay has the only DMV for the whole county. Coos Bay is so isolated that the nearest big city of Eugene is 2 hours away; Portland is 4 hours away. Eugene is about the size of Fullerton or Anaheim.

We were driving around the county, exploring, and looking around, and we saw the little towns for the first time. We had to stop in the middle of traffic, and had a “What The Fuck” moment, because we thought for a few minutes that we had accidently driven into a Wild West Cowboy movie set because all of the buildings looked like those old Cowboy Western buildings and saloons. My sister said: “That’s not a movie set… that’s their city.” It felt like you had driven into a fucking time warp into the past.

Over 95% of Coos County are White People. But they are different than White People in Orange County and LA Suburbs. White folks here are very friendly, they smile, say hi, and wave at you. Neighbors talk to you and each other. Neighbors even share things with each other. Whereas in Cali, you can go for years without ever knowing your neighbors.

White People here are a modest breed of people. They wear financially modest clothing; you rarely see brand name clothing. They also live in financially modest homes, and drive financially modest cars. Most White people here drive big trucks. Half of the White men here have beards.

There are in general 3 main groups of White People here in Coos County. The first group is the most visible. This group is the old Retired White People who all have big RVs that are like buses. This first group travel in their RVs up and down Oregon’s Southwest Coast and park their RVs in places called “RV Parks.” I’ve never seen an RV Park before, until I got here to Coos County. An RV Park is like a cross between a big parking lot and a camp site. Most of the RV Parks here in Coos County are located in nice places such as overlooking lakes, near big rivers, by the beaches, and so on.

This group of White People – old retired RV nomads – dominate the city council of Coos Bay, and so, per their mentality and aims, they fight to keep Coos Bay from growing and expanding into a large city, since they desire to keep Coos Bay a tourist place for tourists and RV nomads like themselves, who enjoy nature and the beautiful environment. Thus, the population of Coos Bay is very small [16,000]. This also means that there are not a lot of industries or diverse jobs in Coos Bay. The lumber industry and fishing industry are the biggest ones here. And so, many men here are lumber jacks or fishermen. In the tiny city of Coos Bay, there are two whole casinos. And so, you can find jobs there. You can also find work in the many hotels and restaurants.

Because the city council works to keep Coos Bay from expanding, housing in Coos Bay is very problematic, especially rentals. It’s very hard to rent an apartment or house here, because of the limits imposed on the city by the city council, and because of Oregon’s bizarre rent laws. All apartments, homes, condos, or anything which desires to rent itself to the public must work through a middle-man called a “Rental Agency.” You submit applications of specific apartments or homes you desire to rent to a Rental Agent, and they put you on a list for that specific unit being rented: the first person or family who qualifies gets the unit.

Because the housing thing is a huge hassle and because there are no good jobs or work here, Coos Bay has a homeless and drug problem. It’s nowhere as bad as the homeless problem you’d see in LA or Portland or Eugene, but there are a few homeless people and there is a problem with the bored and poor sections of society here who do meth.

The other third portion of White People here are the rural farmers. Coos County is rural proper. If you drive in any direction from Coos Bay city for about 5 miles, you will end up seeing vast fields of beautiful lush grass, which are used to raise primarily cows and sheep. I have never seen a baby lamb before, until I moved here. They are very cute! The cows are black or brown, which means they are raised eventually for their meat. The cows and sheep live a very nice and relaxed life in vast open fields all day.

The farmers live in modest homes and in trailers. Sometimes their homes look dilapidated and poor. I wrongly assumed that they were poor people, until I check how much their land cost. When we saw the beautiful open fields, we all wanted to buy a house with about 10-40 acres of such open field. So I looked around for the price of such kinds of open fields, and they were about $1 million or more! They look poor, but they have wealth locked up in their land and livestock. It was wrong for me to assume that they were poor, using California standards.

The farming class are a friendly breed of people. They wear modest clothes that are not expensive brand names. They own tractors. All the males seem to have beards and wear straw hats. The females don’t usually wear makeup or fix their hair up. A majority of them – especially those around our age [Y & Z Gen] – seem to be shy or timid around people they know are from California. They can tell we aren’t from around the area [not natives] by how we dress, carry ourselves, and talk our English. You don’t organically realize you speak English with a SoCal accent until you talk with them, because they talk their English differently.

Besides the rural farmers, there are the rural folks who live in the woods, who don’t farm. Their houses are found along twisted and curvy little streets in the forest, by rivers and such. They have beards also, and a lot of junk in their yards. The junk consists of mostly old rusty vehicles. These folks in the woods seem to have their own rural community economy, where their homes doubles as shops. Some of their homes are art galleries.

The last third portion of White People here are the children and grandchildren [descendants] of those rural farmers and rural forest-dwelling folks. This group are the ones who come together to form and build those small towns and small cities in the county.

The 101 Freeway that we are familiar with in Cali, here in Coos County becomes the Main Street of every township here [or a small highway that breaks off of the 101 is their Main Street]. There homes are located on small streets which are tributaries of the 101 and the small highways, which are two lane highways here. The speed limit in town – when you drive through the town – is only 20 miles per hour. All of their shops are located along the 101, which is their main street.

The people who live in such towns are different than their farming and woodland kindred in that the people who are around our age seem to try to be more “cosmopolitan” or “metropolitan” like us in cities and suburbs out in Cali. There are kids in these towns who are “punkers” with dyed hair. I’ve seen a few skaters as well. Interestingly, I don’t see very many people out here into the Cowboy subculture! They all try to be more like the people they see on TV from places like Cali and New York and so on.

These White People in town remind me of White People I’ve seen around Arizona and parts of Nevada: they are ordinary people, friendly, not stuck up, but modest in dress and demeanor. To get a better understanding of what kind of people these White People here are, I surfed their local radio frequencies to see what kind of music they listen to in general. There are a few radio stations that play Alternative and Pop, a few stations that play Classic Rock, many stations that play Country music, surprisingly a few stations that play Classical and Jazz, a few stations that play Gospel music and Church preaching, and that’s it.

My friend Beast Xeno told me that when you move out to a new environment like this, that your perspective about things will change accordingly. He’s very right. The rural environment and the people here are starting to change the way I see and feel about things. Which is why I am having a hard time adjusting psychologically.

First it’s like a major Culture Shock. I come from Southern California, where there are so many Mexicans, that everyone speaks Spanish everywhere you go. Out here, in Coos County, nobody speaks Spanish. Everyone speaks English! After being here for a few days, exposed to the English coming out of everybody’s mouth, I was so weirded out that I said out loud to my sister and Vanessa: “Wow… it’s like we’re finally in America! Everyone speaks English.”

Another thing that shocked me was when we drive around in Cali, we see Mexicans working the streets, as city street workers, like they lay down asphalt, fix potholes, put those orange cones around the streets. I’m so used to seeing Mexicans do that type of work, that when I saw White People do that work here in Coos County, I was shocked and confused. That White People did common labor.

Another thing that shocked me was when we went into a McDonalds to get some hamburgers. I’m used to seeing Mexicans work hamburger places. When I walked inside a McDonalds here, there were young White People working the place.

I now realize that my perspective and opinions/views about society is born from, rooted in, the place I live. In California, especially Orange County, I believed that White People did not have a culture, because they were atheists, were into New Age shit, and practiced cultural appropriation. But here, in a rural countryside, you can see and witness that these White People here do indeed have their own culture, traditions, and way of life.

A culture, traditions, and way of life that is fast dying. There is a huge disconnect between the White People here [who constitutes over 95% of the population] and the faces you see on their local TV shows and commercials. I was shocked and confused to see Black People and Latinos faces on their local TV shows and commercials; given the 95% majority race here. I was so taken aback that I said out loud, as I was watching a commercial: “What are Black People doing on TV here?”

I feel very bad for the White People here because their media bombards them with faces and cultural shit that do not represent their People and Way of Life here. Their morning news is from New York and their TV shows are from California. The people and cultures of New York and California have nothing to do with the Rural Folk here and in other rural places. It’s Incremental Cultural Liquidation.

Incremental Cultural Liquidation is what China is using to push Tibetan people into racial and cultural extinction. It happens gradually, and with the young people, since they’re the most receptive to the invasive memes. The older Tibetans can resist and fight off the cultural liquidation all they want, but they will die and the new generation takes over.

And so little by little, the young Tibetan teens speak more Chinese than Tibetan. They think Chinese pop music and Chinese cultural stuff is “cool” and trendy, and so they stop listening to Tibetan music and so on. They think Chinese clothing and style is cool, and so they adopt that as well. They feel weird or shameful for living in rural areas of Tibet, and so they move into cities in China to find work and jobs. They like cute Chinese girls.

Slowly, with each new generation, Tibetan culture and Tibetan religion, and the Tibetan ethnicities are being pushed towards racial extinction: which is genocide.

The same thing is happening in America with White People. The System and the Left/Neo-Marxists have deemed White People as its enemy, and are using the same Incremental Cultural Liquidation with White People. It’s “cool” to be like people from California and New York. And so you see the younger generation of White People here mimic and emulate what they see, what their media – Leftist Propaganda – feed them. I walked into a gas station the other day, to pick up a few snacks for our road trip, and there was a young White guy and his White buddy hanging out and working the counter. The buddy was in a back room just behind the counter with an old radio. The radio was playing rap music. There isn’t a fucking Black dude 50 miles around them, and there isn’t any ghettos here.

My perspective is slowly changing. I once believed that multiculturalism is fucked up and doesn’t work. But being here, in the countryside, and seeing all these White People has made me question such views. As I walk and drive around, seeing these White People working common labor, an old movie I once watched keeps popping into my mind.

It’s an old movie that takes place in the ancient Roman Empire days. Rome had conquered England and parts of the North. And so, the Romans began shipping blonds down to Italy to be sold off as slaves. One day a Roman aristocrat sees a young blond boy and says: “Such a fair race shouldn’t be made slaves.”

My perspective has changed to where I believe that it is not right and is unbecoming for White People and East Asians to be engaged in basal common labor. Blacks and Mexicans should be doing that shit. Races with high IQs shouldn’t be doing the work and labor of those underling races with low IQs.

The ancient Aryans in India and the ancient Aryavarta had it correct: a Caste system which strictly structures races into tiers, and gives each race duties and work according to their Dharma. The various Aryan tribes and races were at the top as Brahmins and Royals, and the dark skinned races – Dravidian & Munda – were at the bottom castes. “Strictly Structured” means that if or when you breach your caste and its duties and so on you were killed. In ancient times, only offspring of a Brahmin were allowed to learn and study the sacerdotal language of Sanskrit. If you were not Brahmin Spawn, and you tried to learn Sanskrit, you were either beaten or killed. Which was one reason why the Buddha forbade his followers to translate his teachings into Sanskrit.

India and the ancient Aryavarta, as well as the places the Aryan tribes colonized, are good examples of how multicultural and multiracial societies can function well for hundreds and thousands of years; by way of strict and total racial stratification.

Dharma is a concept many people don’t understand. Dharma means your Natural/Organic Disposition/Nature. For example, most people are by Nature and Ethos: inconsiderate. They lack the capacity to Consider others. It can be small things, like how Mexican guys park their cars like they own the parking lot: they lack the capacity to Consider others, where they think and feel in their hearts: “If I park like this, other won’t be able to park in this lot because my truck takes up 4 parking spaces.” That’s Dharma.

Honor is Dharmic. Not everyone has equal capacity to be Honorable. If you lend a person $10, and he never pays you back, that is lack in the ability to honor his debt. When you make a promise, it requires the capacity to be Honorable to keep that promise. There is no such thing as equality in Nature, and so there is no such thing as every human being and race having the same level and quality of Honor. That’s Dharma.

And so, stratifying people and races goes beyond measuring IQ and Intelligence and skin color. Dharma is the factor of caste and feudal stratification.

My second change in perspective has to do with “Mundanes.” Back in California, when I used the term “Mundanes,” I was referring to the mundane people around me, in these cities and urban areas: they are generic, low quality human beings. And because I was born and raised and lived in SoCal, I assumed that all people were like that. But out here in the boondocks, the rural folks here don’t fit the reference and term “Mundane.” They are a kind and gentle folk, they are considerate, many of them might be poor but they take care of each other, they have a sense of community with their neighbors, they have their own culture, complete with their own traditions, traditional cuisines. The people here are not the type to be described by derogatory terms, or the type to be disliked or hate on. They are ordinary people, but they aren’t Mundanes.

I need to redefine what I mean by “Mundanes.” It seems to mean the “Generic Homo Hubris Who Populates Urban Areas.” People in these rural areas are a whole different breed: they are gentle and modest, not hubristic. Too gentle for their own good, because they have a Political System that has identified them as The Enemy.

My Third change in perspective has to do with my views about Crime & Violence, and Dreccian stuff. I now understand that, when living in the cities, in urban areas, being confrontational, using violence, and doing crime, and so on are Reactionary behaviors to the said Urban Environment, which is essentially a Neo-Darwinian “Dog-Eat-Dog” environment. And, per Natural Law, all things, including human behavior, are products of its matrical environment.

The urban environment, in cities across Southern California at least, is stressful, because there are so many gangs out there, so much general competition, so much crime, that you have to – as we say in English – “Fight fire with fire.” You have to be Dreccian in such a Neo-Darwinian environment to survive and thrive.

Out here in the countryside there are no gangs. My sister feared that there would be gangs. I laughed and told her: “There is no such thing as White People gangs. Bloods and Crips and stuff like that are phenomena of ghettos from California and New York and Texas and other big crowded metropolitan areas. Ordinary White kids don’t have gangs. If they do, it’s a wannabe gang.” In SoCal, poor neighborhoods are riddled with street gang graffiti. Here in Coos County and in the other rural counties, there are no graffiti of any kind, even in the poorest neighborhoods.

Here in Coos County, there is a Corrections Facility [a prison]. It’s a laughable prison. This prison has a capacity of 250 prisoners. The only people that go to that prison are people who are alcoholics, meth-heads that need to be taken off the street when they are high, people who did petty property theft, homeless guys who are mentally impaired, domestic violence shit, and that’s about it. The prison is in the woods, next to a lake and river, by the beach, in a beautiful setting, and is minimal security. The prisoners look like trailer park trash, what are call “Pobuckers.” These prisoners/criminals here are basically clowns. If they were in Southern Cali, they’d be obliterates by LA criminals. And if they were inside a Southern Cali prison, they’d all be girlfriends of California inmates.

Urban style -neo-darwinian style – crime doesn’t fit in the countryside. It’s just not the right environment. These people have communities and their own culture and way of life. And I believe such community and culture shouldn’t be corrupted or interfered with. These people and their communities should just be left alone. And so, being a Drecc, out here in the rural countryside, is environmentally out of place. We are all a product of our environment. It’s hard to be a Drecc or a violent criminal gang member, when you live in a thick forest, surrounded by a bunch of trees and rivers and cows and sheep and elks. Coos County is an actual Temperate Rainforest [an immensely beautiful one], where it rains half the year.

I currently live in a town which has a population size of 9,000 people. 98% of the town is White. This town is like Sleepy Hollow [every city and town in Coos County is]. Every day, after 6PM, everybody vanishes off the street and the whole town is dead quiet. It’s like the town got abandoned. I’m used to how Southern Cali is, where it’s always busy, day and night, always loud, people hang out until late at night and shit. Not here. I have no idea what these people do for fun [besides meth]. And oddly, on the weekends, all of their little shops are closed. The town is so small, and the style of architecture is so old fashioned, that you literally feel like you’re living in the Wild West Cowboys and Indian era, and any moment there’s gunna be a gun shoot out in front of the saloon.

I can now see that the o9a’s Rounwytha Way has its place and environment. Being Drecc out here is pretty much useless and out of place. Me and Vanessa can probably beat up 6 White guys here and take their money, and they wouldn’t put up a fight, because they are scrawny and a little too gentle for their own good. I think it’s time for me – due to my new environment and my age – to age-out of the Drecc thing and grow into being a Rounwytha and focus my awareness on the Natural Pagan spirit of the area.

I like Coos County a lot. It’s an exceptionally beautiful environment. Driving here is a pleasure, even for hours. It’s like taking your car for a hike in the woods. Everywhere you drive, a giant river of some kind follows you. When you are not flanked on both sides by forest, you are flanked by huge emerald green pastural fields dotted with cattle and sheep. Frequently, as you drive, you see deer, elk, and wild turkey. The only honking you hear is the honking of geese flying over you to some nearby lake or pond. The rivers are as wide as lakes. The lakes are as wide as bays. The creeks are as big as any river you’d find in Southern California. The trees here, their stupendous height, make any tree in SoCal look like shrubs. The beaches are rarely crowded and are only a few minutes drive. With hiking shoes and binoculars, you can spend all day walking and driving around, exploring. If there will ever be a civil war or third world war, I’ll be pretty safe, because there is plenty of fresh water to drink, and plenty of wild animals to hunt, and plenty of thick forests to enter into to hide.

If you are a typical urbanite, used to the city-life in those big cities: you will go insane living out here. This place is almost literally a retirement community of old people: the RV Nomads who are enjoying their retirement in a place where their retirement money goes a long way. There are more old people here than people our age.

You have to like Nature, the Out Doors, hiking, going to the beach, exploring rivers and lakes, watching wild life, riding a boat around the rivers and lakes, whale watching, looking for crabs and clams and crayfish to cook and eat, looking at trees, fern, and the other plants, visiting the sand dunes: because that is all there is to do out here. At night, you can see the stars and Milky Way.

It’s a great place to be intimate with Nature, to reconnect with the Animistic Nature Spirits: the gnomes, sylphs, elves, and so on. Your mind and awareness can easily get lost in the Nature that surrounds you. It’s quiet and peaceful. The perfect place and environment for a Buddhist-Rounwytha to sit still and Contemplate and listen to Nature Preach Her ineffable Gospel.

/Chloe