Uh, we had talks here about someone seeing Guru Dev at a rock concert and everyone around him throwing up or something. Weird stuff happens. I liked readin that this guy was really into GD and Crowley as was I. I had a couple friends when I was fifteen and used to give them lectures on Crowley, the pompous little twerp that I was. Then we might fit in a watchtower or a Lesser pentagram, or maybe throw out all stops and pick up Laveys Satanic Rituals.  Some interesting satanic rituals like L'air Du Stifle, Ritual of the Stiffling Air, where the room has red light and Van De Graf generators humming and a low subsonic hum.  Lavey was imaginative, one must give him that. So is your friend.
 
His name is Something Graywolf. A self professed iniate something or other of the 79th sphere from Exelon or something. Shit, I gave all that crap up. Or it gave me up. 
 
Cooking has become my religion. Somewhere after the million plate served. I take my dagger and make strange hand passes. I multiply my devotions adding the kum kum of my product after each name on the recipe. I strike up the homam (on the range). I become Brahman as I take an empty pot and fill it with diverse offerings, I send it's blessing up in the form of scent, only to empty it again and then the remains of the yagya goes to the potwasher. Each year new clothes in the form of aprons are given to the stuck up Bramin caste called the front of the house, while this tantrika slaves away at his duni. When I don't feel like serving, I am still forced to serve thus increasing my devotions. And then comes pick up when I take the body and bread of my suffering and, and sometimes my blood and burns, and make a mandala offering to my guests, who treat me like a priest, that is, they praise me to high heaven, but are really glad that the stinky creature with all the creative energy stays behind the line so as not to disturb their admiration of the product.  Wowow. WTF am I doing still rambling. Gotta go to werk.  Next week will be a complete joy as the chef goes out of town leaving me to  do everything. Hurrah!
 
Homam on the Range.  A Buddhist Chef's Story. (if I could only chill without using). At least I offer up all my sins and pleasures to the Three Roots. It's all I can do. The Buddha's be gettin some strange offerings from me. Sometimes I'm thinking they keep me around just to see what's next. Cause God knows I ain't no good Buddhist! Sounds very country.  Shit shit shit, gotta go to werk. Arrggghh. Have a good day y'all.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
----- Original Message -----
From: Vaj
Sent: Friday, March 18, 2005 9:03 AM
Subject: Re: [FairfieldLife] Re: Bizarity


On Mar 18, 2005, at 9:57 AM, rudra_joe wrote:

-----Oh hey, Vaj, I work two blocks from where that purple haired mushroom eating friend of yours hangs out at Jackson Square. I actually saw him at the A&P yesterday and said, "Haaaay." He was a little bit put off.  That's his fault since he advertises. I wouldn't make that mistake. But anyway. I doubt we'll be much communicating. He's yes bizarre, and a professional psychic which means if anything he is one with pretense and affectation.
 



ROFLOL.

You might enjoy his recollection of his TM initiation. I'd NEVER heard of anything like this!

http://alobar.livejournal.com/1062173.html


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