Last night I had the immense pleasure to go see Erik Davis talk about his new book, The Visionary State: A Journey Through California's Spiritual Landscape. I already was quite fond of Erik (and once helped him out with the tangly world of book publicity in Los Angeles), and he did not disappoint. This is the very first book on the peculiar tendency for California to attract and birth swamis, black magicians, science fiction cults, and any other spirituality that wouldn't fly, say, back where I come from. I'm already enjoying it. I also got to talk to Erik a little bit about what teaching at Maybe Logic Academy is like. Lordy.
I brought along jeremyscareme, who doesn't get to go to a lot of stuff like this, what with his seclusion in the editing room, and he ended up knowing as many people at the event as I. Los Angeles weirdo culture is not a tight-knit clan, but there's a lot of overlap. I also was able to introduce him (amazingly!) to the work of Austin Osman Spare, whose milieu-bending occult writings and gloriously weird artwork he, of course, found devastatingly compelling. But, seriously, how can you not love a guy whom Aleister "Motherfucking Beast 666" Crowley called a dangerous black magician?
Hostile to self-torment, the vain excuses called devotion, Zos satisfied the habit by speaking loudly unto his Self. And at one time, returning to familiar consciousness, he was vexed to notice interested hearers-a rabble of involuntary mendicants, pariahs, whoremongers, adulterers, distended bellies, and the prevalent sick-grotesques that obtain in civilisations. His irritation was much, yet still they pestered him, saying: MASTER, WE WOULD LEARN OF THESE THINGS! TEACH US RELIGION!
It was a lovely evening, and I'm up early this morning because I'm going to go film. Hurrah for acting paying the bills!
Have a gorgeous day, and you know, if you get the urge, check out Erik's book. It really is splendid.
I brought along jeremyscareme, who doesn't get to go to a lot of stuff like this, what with his seclusion in the editing room, and he ended up knowing as many people at the event as I. Los Angeles weirdo culture is not a tight-knit clan, but there's a lot of overlap. I also was able to introduce him (amazingly!) to the work of Austin Osman Spare, whose milieu-bending occult writings and gloriously weird artwork he, of course, found devastatingly compelling. But, seriously, how can you not love a guy whom Aleister "Motherfucking Beast 666" Crowley called a dangerous black magician?
Hostile to self-torment, the vain excuses called devotion, Zos satisfied the habit by speaking loudly unto his Self. And at one time, returning to familiar consciousness, he was vexed to notice interested hearers-a rabble of involuntary mendicants, pariahs, whoremongers, adulterers, distended bellies, and the prevalent sick-grotesques that obtain in civilisations. His irritation was much, yet still they pestered him, saying: MASTER, WE WOULD LEARN OF THESE THINGS! TEACH US RELIGION!
It was a lovely evening, and I'm up early this morning because I'm going to go film. Hurrah for acting paying the bills!
Have a gorgeous day, and you know, if you get the urge, check out Erik's book. It really is splendid.
VIEW 25 of 47 COMMENTS
And how miserable is "AVAIL."
Time to go wallow.
For at least 60 seconds.....
and you were of a group sitting in judgement on me, pending my expulsion for excessive anger.