Brace yourself for the inane ramblings of a domestik terrōríst. That was sarcasm. That I live in a world where my opinions, however well thought-out or patently retarded, qualify me in any way for that most hallowed of titles… Is pathetic. So. What does a week in the life look like? It’s positively brimming with small, quaint pyrrhic victories.
I mounted my favourite Odal Rune which I carved years ago after returning to doing my bit in following Odin. As it goes. It was one of the first things I made upon being given a jigsaw from the 1960s. Craftsman. Got that sweet, sexy steel chassis and no discernible plastic. A literal world apart from my travelling sawbox powered by 77 dollars and Harbour Freight & Salvage. I apologise for nothing.
Reckon the lighting sucks, on account of the fact I light my gym area with old red chicken lamps. Well, red lights anyway. Heat lamp. Doesn’t really do much for overhead heat when the temps were in the negative but the red is for ambience. I’m experimenting with changing the light frequency. And much as it irks the ghost of Wieland who contended red is the colour of the Untermensch, research suggests red light combats blue light. But then again, science also thinks that if you give a restaurant money than a made up gay plague will politely wait before infecting you between unmasked bites, only to resume the chase when it inevitably comes you have to relieve yourself of the money spent to shove a mask down your throat so a bunch of limp wrists feel “safe.” And no. The drywall is not done. I just needed the wall to turn the rest of The Underworld into an Utgard apart from my gym. Quoting Baby Bush “Mission Accomplished.”
I shelved and reorganised books. I did my gym bits- hit #315/3×5, and #300/5×5 on the swkaatz. I weigh #156 and am 5’7″ as I’m told that matters. Last week I hit 200/5×1 on the bench, which is a victory for me in that bench is my weakest lift. I did not deadlift because I’m renting the basement to a friend in need, and ever so occasionally neighbours claim they can hear the 4:50 bells which toll for me. What else? I waited with bated breath as wee lad’s garbling becomes ever closer to discernible sentences. And I went to work. Click flooring. Stair treads. The urethane rendered me simple. In fact, when the chem haze cleared I found myself in my delusional fog believing I woke up in a Clown World where men can become women and trans-vaxxed individuals only weakness is… the … unvaxxed… and…… all lives mattering is somehow… offensive. Anyway, I’m glad that’s all over with because clearly that’s insane and a comorbidity of my being trapped in the lacquer zone for a few hours. Thank Wōden it was all just a fever dream.
I finally made it out to Mexicali Blues to buy some of the best incense in the world. I did not get the hippy I anticipated, so much as a Zoomer girl who insisted I should have an embroidered purple what’s it bag for my dragon’s blood, cinnamon, frankincense, sandalwood and myrhh. It apparently cost me nothing but a smile, so I ain’t complaining. Later I took the wife on a date to find a jar for her kamut flour, which I know doesn’t sound like much but I had secured a sitter for Seaxling. It’d been a hard day. While my boy is incredibly mild mannered, comparative to other kids his age, all things are relative and we have hit his equivalent of the terrible twos. The triflesome twos, I suppose. What that looks like is he won’t nap and doesn’t want to eat at the table. Could be worse. But I also work in the daytime, and am not subject to the existentially complex internal conflicts that my wife is. So. A trip out for a couple hours is, indeed, a small victory for her.
I’ve dabbled some in Bind-Runes. I love Runes. They were the thing that drew me into a spiritual practise. I use them everyday, not for occult purposes, just my gym notes. Bind-Runes I find more spiritually appealing. I tend to believe our ancestors likely did also, given that we know the Runes were indeed used for mundane purposes and did not always need to be reddened.
The Bind-Rune to the bottom left tracks some of the spiritual woowoo I’ve undergone in recent weeks. I’ve come to see Jormungand the Ouroborous as a sympathetic figure, maybe even originally a familiar to Mother Earth. Snakes originally being positive archetypes invoking Wisdom in her aspects. There is also the question of the Ior Rune used by my ancestors, which takes the shape of the primal Hagalaz. Or Hag-Al. Whatever you like. I think it no accident my ancestors chose to use the Rune of Creation, the so-called Mother Rune in conjunction with a name that clearly invokes the opening syllable of. Iormungand. In the same way the Ēar Rune invokes the Irminsul, in shape and name. La-dee-dah. It’s a personal gnosis, but the shoe fits. I’m wearing it. The Ing Rune and Ethel Runes are important because they channel fertility. And I see no reason to believe the fertility cults past and future are anything other than the keys to reclaiming life. At their core, I think, is a recapitulation and reclamation of the Great Goddess/es from our own race memory. Ergo the Serpentine ring around my binder.
It will replace my old Bind-Rune which I meditated on until the birth of my son, which I think fulfills the prayer contained within that sigil. Now I have a new trajectory, and it pays to check your moorings before the ship sets sail. Anyway. The old one I used, which many others I have seen contrive on their own as isolated incidents (anecdotally proving there is a kind of burgeoning archetype) will be shown below. I’d carved it into or stained it on a great many things, and a lot of energy went into it.
There we have it. I’ve spent some time in absentia bundo testing my greatly reduced caffeine tolerance with… Y’know… Caffeine. With my currently reduced physical presence, a good caffeine high and lifter’s high become sufficiently transcendental. Fuck Yeah , testosterone.
I’ve started my new stack of books. Currently reading Annie Deux-Le-Veut’s “Stories in the Stars,” and Margaret Alice Murray’s “Witch Cults in Western Europe.” Both are illuminating in their way. Made some plans to see friends this weekend. There is a high probability that I’m going to hit up a flea market and bitch about how eBay killed the good ones. I’ll also be planning a Racist D&D Night for a few weeks out. Oh. Seaxwife finally broke down and bought the Bakshi LOTR because I’ve made it clear I don’t want Seaxling’s brain rotted by secular television and if there shall be any moving pictures than they shall be buffered at least with something reminiscent of traditional values. I’m off to listen to Behemoth and do overhead pressez for Frīja.