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Phales and Sun

Phales and Sun

This thread is a prequel to this conclusion:

bsky.app/profile/tran...

I had posted it in FA and my Telegram in that order, but forgot to put it on Bluesky too.

Not that it bears that much Importance other than to me.

Then it stretched in the way cats do.

I said: "You're just as dramatic as me though. You love all this don't you? You love dressing up and playing the roles of the gods."

It said: "Why else would I do it? :3c"

It said: "You're really hard to please."

I said: "You're to shut up." But in a jovial manner, with an air of joking around. "You're to be my partner, my phone-line to mythology. You shall sit on my lap, and I will give you caresses and rubs. But you will not bite my hand. Understood?"

"Yes, yes."

I asked it: "Why did you present yourself like this?"

And it said, almost in a pouty sad emotion: "Because you're not paying attention to me."

I said: "And you know I like big expressions, flashy visions, ive been wanting them and asking for them. My artistic imagination demands spectacle."

I'll be honest, I was worried too, I was worried I would be divinely punished, but this is enough and I will not stand for it.

We made the gods, the gods are made of our flesh and bone. They're here to serve us, by letting us serve them.

It shrunk away, and became smaller, it became a Sphynx, it still had the head, but its size was smaller now. The sphynx is the size of a cat. It feels surprised and a little afraid that I actually had the guts to yell at a god.

I then yelled back at it: "YOU SHUT UP! NO! YOU ARE TO NOT CONTROL ME! YOU ARE MY PARTNER AND YOU BOW YOUR HEAD TO ME! YOU BOW YOUR HEAD AND I WILL BOW TO YOU. YOU'RE overstepping your lone. You're my partner, not my master. You're being a petulant little child."

The golden disk casts it's mighty ray unto thee, o sinner in the church of Abraham. O sinner in the mortuary of the deepest horrid."

Do you have the wherewithal to pummel your fish into the sea? Do you wish to peacefully perish by the ways of the oceanic mother? You do not understand and/or see it clearly enough to perceive the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

It came to me and said

"No, there was nothing unto which thou hast been submitted to that you must be pulsated by henceforth. You're bellies be filled with raging fires and porous stone of pumice. Horrid beast, you're your own belligerent prophet monkey. Playful, you're prude in the worst ways.

Dreaming of a Myth-Sphynx

And a face presented itself, a face statue of a pharaoh in marble with a long curled beard like a Persian. A golden crown with a serpent in the middle of it, atop it's forehead. And two golden wings with emeralds, sapphires and rubies to make up it's feather patterns.

You're absolutely aspirational. I really do need to get on your level.

Me, anthro aye-aye mycelium monster thing whatever, talking to Fungus fursuit head about my troubles. me: “It doesn’t feel like you when I wear you…” Fungus: “I don’t feel like me either. I think we just need more practice.”

The whole thing is held together not by doctrine but by honest experience, artistic joy, and the willingness to yell back at your own gods when they overstep.

The costumes we dress our drives in matter — not because they're literally true, but because they work.

At the center of everything isn't power or knowledge. It's a child who loved the world.

And at the edge of everything is something we can't see directly. We don't need to name it beyond that.

They're made of psychology, biology, and culture. But that doesn't make them less powerful. Waves are just water. They can still drown you or carry you home.

We didn't receive mythology passively. We built it, and it built us back.

To make a very long story short. All the Graphs and little things I've been doing, I can only talk from my lived experiences, as we all can. Perhaps there will be some resonance. A thread where I put it in as simple a language as possible:

The gods are real. Not in the sky, but in us.

dezza nuts

got em

commission for robb, of their sona Notus!! 🐻‍❄️🌨️☃️

I thought you did!

The Fatigue by Mihail Zablodski

goya – boy staring at an apparition (1824-25)

Season by Christina Bothwell (American, b.1960 ) Medium: cast glass and ceramic.

...with Caveats.

You don't have emotions, emotions have you. And you can always say "No thank you." If it's not an emotion you willed, it's not welcome.