!!!wow!!!

And you shall not let any of your
seed pass through Mo'lech,
neither shall you profane
the name of your God:
I am the Lord.
(Leviticus:18.21)

Early this morning the Yeti was sited in Memphis Tennessee muttering Byzantine incantations with his dirty pants down around his goddamn ankles and his hands folded in humble supplication to the grace and impossible mystery of handsome science, present in flesh and spirit as the Memphis Chapter of the Institute of Postcryptozoological Studies surrendered the existence it never even fucking had and ecstatically self immolated.

Happy birthday Wolfgang Absolute Fucking Terror, most beloved of all physical plane mayic animal pseudo appearings, most loyal and facile of warriors in the false struggle against Fantisto's symmetric machinery, most agile and deft fucker of the Berzerkers, most prodigiously low-level proficient, most generous and kind brother in PERFECT MORAL SCIENCE. For your most auspicious of Birthdays I offer you the blessed gift of my coming home and reforging the sangha bonds of the most exalted, praiseworthy and blameless of Institutes the absurd lie of time and space has ever known.   

I am turning my back and withdrawing my support from the sickly, black-toxic vapors of the white concrete mausoleum to which I had hideously given my allegiance for the past 8 months, longing for the sickening bogus credibility conferred by a doctorate of the philosophy of psychology and guild licensure in the Molochian cult of profit extraction from the weeping and distressed. Another fucking second of watching YWHW torture the Leviathan and I would have lost my passionate confusion.

With an infinite lack of tact and attainment, and with a maniacal disembodied gaze toward counting the formerly human, they usurped the power to name me a doctor, a physician and healer, of the Philo Sophia, the love of the divine feminine wisdom, of psyche-Logos, animated and illuminated Words about the Spirit. Their PhD can go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all I care.

The bone deep and human anti-capitalist, contemplatative, herbalist, cat astrology, fairy time, wild and wise witch, polyamorous, Tiep Hien, Tenzin, GuruBhakti, anarcho syndicilist, farmers market, whole plant food, puppet making, body painting, trance weaving, mustache adoring, natural building, Sufi poetry reading, pot luck obsessed, anti-war, gender fucking, used book store having, hipster Gen X/Y Satsang has conferred all the vindication and validation I will ever need.

I will not spend another fucking second in wretched psychic exile from the water that feeds me, which is the love and belonging in a clan of people who do not hate human life; who never betrayed a thousand generations of ancestors by making idols of neoclassical spiritually bankrupt utility extraction, of making idols of evidence based medicine and the inhibition of GABA, who never betrayed the glorious and infinitely revolutionary mercy and affection of the Gift economy, who do not hate humans for having hair and pheromones and thick salty tears, who do not want to make their homes, their minds, and their sex lives into inert Cartesian grids.   

I am coming home to the Sangha that feeds me in my quest to convey dignity on insane ex NFL linemen and the legions demoralized by the relentless fucking attacks of the false creator God upon creativity and meaning and community. I am coming home to the Sangha that supports my deep aspiration to see the Illuminated grace of my spiritual Master in the homeless, dysthymic and panicked. I am coming home to the Sangha that knows how to feed me with back rubs, and ancestor approved Pho?, and theme parties, and sunny public spaces with Brugmansia, and outsider art, and bike-lanes, and fucking heart.   

Thank fucking Christ chronology and Kal Niranjan, the false appearance of time and space, are a counterfeit fucking sham and I never left your loving support in the First place.     Happy fucking Birthday dear Brother Wolfgang, I love you and I am coming home to the Institute I never left.