The remedy is here but so is the malady. As Fat repeats obsessively, “The Empire never ended.” In a startling response to the crisis, the true God mimics the universe, the very region he has invaded: he takes on the likeness of sticks and trees and cans in gutters—he presumes to be trash discarded, debris no longer noticed. Lurking, the true God literally ambushes reality and is as well. God, in very truth, attacks and injures us, in his role as antidote. As Fat can testify to, it is a scary experience to encounter this. Thence we say, the true God is in the habit of concealing himself. 25 hundred years have passed since Heraclitus wrote, “Latent form is the Master of obvious form.”
Albemuth Crete Rome Calif. x y —
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drawing, see MS
At y, the entity including me, evolves into its ultimate state (self). The info-firing quasi-material, quasi-energy plasmate non-humanoid life form I call Zebra—from perhaps, thousands, or millions of years in the future.
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