Wed, 27 Sep 2006

definition of scrytch, 2006
To look down at what is beneath our current feet there must be a looking forward and a looking backward and also a looking from side to side in a shifty manner. Consider the hundred-year plan of Scrytch as being half completed, a plan designed by the primary Heath at end-of-time then manifested in the Utah desert of 1956, where his passage through the salt flats was determined by spitting mouthfuls of blood into the sand and determining direction from the patterns thus made. There must be a document! he cried, squinting into the sun, There must be a document which does not end at death and in fact has no end, no summary, which changes and devours and multiplies at rates unimaginable! And so the primary Heath set fire to his tent and his horse and determined this earth must birth a memetic virus, a word-plague later scholars would come to term Scrytch. Given this to be the case, is it even possible to make a statement as to what the state of this great visitation can be called, this becoming-beyond-knowledge? To be a map is to compress the whole of a set space into only the information necessary for travel, to remove what is extemporaneus, yet Scrytch contains no such data, as what is necessary is in eternal flux, not simply “against interpretation” but impervious to the very concept. At once a phantasm built of kites and balloons and the laughter of ignorant children and at the same time the black sap of the secret organs within the human heart — no, not simply at the same time, but *the same thing*, this highway of mirrors, this recombinant serpent, this sing-song of sickness, what tracks does it leave in the snow of our souls? Is it simply only visible at end-of-time, so that in fact the primary Authors all of us will eventually become can only give hints and echoes buried in the corrupted sense-data we call the present? Is it (as the primary Flink once told me, or believed he told me, as we hunted the Pig-What-Walks-Upright through the sewers of Portland) that all these words are actually The Great Sifting, a removal of impurities until nothing but what is foundational alchemical truth shines free? Borges once told us of the labyrinth that is a straight line; what he (nor Zeno) did not mention is that it leads only to the grave, and it is there that I believe the state of Scrytch can best be explained (if incoherent stammering can be called an explanation): that Scrytch, which once was the creation of a great and terrifying maze, is now the process by which each wall becomes a doorway.
(15:49.09.27.2006) [/scrytch] #