Analogue Reality Autopsy: The perilous plunge into decadence and madness

An Occult Library

LAM, the Key, the Gateway

“Entry may be affected by projecting consciousness through the eyes…”


This newly found obsession with eggs has brought me full circle to the beginning of my investigations into the Typhonian tradition, most specifically the extraterrestrial entity known as LAM, whom Crowley was said to have made contact with in 1919, during a transmission to Soror Tanith.

At sometime around 8:00 pm, I was meditating on the portrait of LAM, prompted by a dream I had of doing exactly that, when I decided to do some bibliomancy. That’s something I almost always do. After a magickal working of some sort, I start opening books up randomly because this seems to heighten the synchronicity chains that magick sets off.

About a week ago I had a very vivid dream in which I was walking through a forest and came across ruins from what looked like the Roman era – ruins of an arena or something like that.

Anyway, I came to a little shrine made from what looked like an old glass phone booth. At the center of the altar was an image of a red rose. I sat contemplating it, and it suddenly transformed into the face of LAM. Quickly I realized what was happening and I was sucked into the eyes. I found myself in a void darkness, and my sense of self was quickly slipping away. I realized that this is the place from which to launch into other dimensions. I said, “It is my will to voyage to the Mauve Zone.” LAM’s eyes opened up as if they were windows and I could see a frozen waste. I started to worry that I wasn’t really prepared for this, so I said, “It is my will to return,” and I was dropped off immediately into another dream.

However this all connects, I have interpreted this as a call to work with LAM.

He entered into the egg of LAM via negativa and came out Alil, a word that equals to 71 (the number of LAM) and means “the image of Nothingness and Silence.” The Hebrew word ALIL is an inversion of the Sanscrit word LILA, the play of forces that manifest objective reality.

The sound of LAM is the vibration associated with the Muladhara chakra. This is the home of the Kundalini which, when coiled at the base of the spine represents the universe in potential — seedform — and which, when it springs up through the top of the column (Kether) explodes into cosmic immensity, the fulfillment of all possibilities (all quantum universes) and therefore their absolute negation, which is Ain. LAM represents the regression back to the seed or egg, cosmic expansion through collapse…The Fool, the beginner on the path, bewildered and lost in infinity, is the same as the Universe card, the attainment and copletion of the cycle. The Path is the initiate, all along. The circle completes itself.

The atomic explosion is the shattering of the notion of objective reality through the influx of chaos from the quantum level. The force of chaos and total destruction — negation — is locked inside every atom. This is also the creative force, however, without which the appearance of a universe of “objects” would be impossible. The atomic explosion opens up – with its shattering of old belief systems (the simplicities of faith and the largely false “progress” of modernity which has left most of the world in dire poverty)- opens up a doorway to Universe B, the world of the Qliphoth. Since this happens as the logical result of scientific materialism, the doorway is that of Matter. Matter is expressed in the sephira of Malkuth. The qliphotic inversion of Malkuth is Lilith. In apocryphal Hebrew lore, when Lilith was cast out of Eden, she went into the Desert of Set and became the mother of abominations, of demons and vampires. Thus Lilith, as the crown of the Tree of Death, is the mother of the shells of the Qliphoth.

On the Dayside level of the picture we can see that the Sun is on the left side. The shadow of the atomic explosion in the desert of the first atomic testing site spreads across the landscape. All of this is encapsulated in the head of LAM, inside the egg of creation. The dualities of order and chaos, of being and non-being, are dissolved into naught within the egg, which is the universe waiting to be born. Simultaneously – outside of time – the universe is unborn, living and dead.

Lunar Alchemy: Negredo, Albedo, Citrinitas, and Rubedo

Typified by my recent posts to this new magickal journal, I’ve been meditating on the various connotations of eggs in occulture as of late, and have realized that it is to be the focal point of an alchemical process. This afternoon I found myself placing a blown egg on an altar and painting it yellow, symbolizing the Sun, Tiphareth. Yesterday I didn’t quite know how this would correlate with my life, but after freshening up on my basic alchemy earlier to-day, I have decided that beginning this week, I’m going to perform a perennial ritual to bring an egg through the phases of nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo. (This will be my first magickal ritual since my recent ‘leave of absence’).

The first night (Friday) is the preparation of the prime matter, i.e., blowing the egg, which will take place on the full Moon. You can probably see where I am going with this. On the physical level, the eggs will be painted the respective colours (black, white, yellow and then red). Actually, the black colour, corresponding with the nigredo phase, will be obtained by subjecting the egg to a flame. The ritual will place significance on the five sequential phases: the four alchemical phases, subsequently followed by the phase of the Peacock’s Tail, the symbol of the many colours and totality of all the colours in the white light. Note also the connection between the five phases, the five points of the pentagram, and the Masonic square and compass.

The Witch’s Egg

Illustration by Urusula Arndt, included in Edna Barth’s children’s book classic, ‘Witches, Pumpkins, and Grinning Ghosts: The Story of Halloween Symbols (1972). 

This was one of my absolute favorite books as a child. In the third and fourth grades at private Catholic school, just around the same time that I had first discovered Points of Light, the neighborhood witch supply store. I had checked this book out over and over again from the school library, and used the lore contained therein to construct my newly discovered magickal universe at the time. This was a prelude of many things to come. I remember playing by myself at Stearn’s park, as I would occasionally sneak over to Points of Light and talk to the African-American witch that owned the shop. I would become lost in the wondrous library and wander throughout the candles, herbs, oils, and dusty incense holders. I had unlocked a door and walked directly into a mysterious parallel universe. Little did I know however, that I would never return back to the other side which I had come from.

From article on eggshell:

In his Vulgar Errors (1686), Sir Thomas Browne noted:

to break an egg after ye meate is out we are taught in our childhood… and the intent thereof was to prevent witchcraft; lest witches should draw or prick their names therein and veneficiously mischiefe ye persons, they broke ye shell… This custome of breaking the bottom of the egg is yet commonly used in the countrey. Browne, Pseudodoxia Epidemica (1686), V. xxii, para.4)


Others, including Reginald Scot in 1584, had heard say that witches sailed in eggshells; thus by driving the spoon through the shells one was ‘sinking the witch boats’ and preventing shipwrecks. Children were still being taught this in the 1930s; a poem written in 1934 runs:

Oh, never leave your eggshells unbroken in the cup, Think of us poor sailor-men and always smash them up, For witches come and find them and sail away to sea, And make a lot of misery for mariners like me. (Gill, 1993: 97) Newall, 1971: 80-7; Opie and Tatem, 1989: 136-6.


“Maion (107) refers more precisely to the aeon of the Daughter (the Koph) and the oval- or egg- may imply the capsule in which the daughter-star makes its safe passage from one star system to another through the tunnels outside the circles of Time (Kali, Nuit, Nu-Isis etc.)” -Kenneth Grant, Outside the Circles of Time (1980)

The Book of Lies, Chapter 69

It’s all in the egg. 

Thou art to go this way. 

The Way to Succeed—And the Way to Suck Eggs!

        This is the Holy Hexagram.
Plunge from the height, O God, and interlock with
Plunge from the height, O Man, and interlock with
The Red Triangle is the descending tongue of grace;
the Blue Triangle is the ascending tongue of
This Interchange, the Double Gift of Tongues, the
Word of Double Power—ABRAHADABRA!—is
the sign of the GREAT WORK, for the GREAT
WORK is accomplished in Silence.  And behold is
not that Word equal to Cheth, that is Cancer.
whose Sigil is ♋?
This Work also eats up itself, accomplishes its own
end, nourishes the worker, leaves no seed, is per-
fect in itself.
Little children, love one another!

Crowley explains:

    The key to the understanding of this chapter is given
    in the number and the title, the former being intelligible
    to all nations who employ Arabic figures, the latter
    only to experts in deciphering English puns.

      The chapter alludes to Levi’s drawing of the Hexa-
    gram, and is a criticism of, or improvement upon, it.
    In the ordinary Hexagram, the Hexagram of nature,
    the red triangle is upwards, like fire, and the blue
    triangle downwards, like water.  In the magical hexa-
    gram this is revered; the descending red triangle is
    that of Horus, a sign specially revealed by him per-
    sonally, at the Equinox of the Gods.  (It is the flame
    desending upon the altar, and licking up the burnt
    offering.)  The blue triangle represents the aspiration,
    since blue is the colour of devotion, and the triangle,
    kinetically considered, is the symbol of directed force.

      In the first three paragraphs this formation of the
    hexagram is explained; it is a symbol of the mutual
separation of the Holy Guardian Angel and his client

    In the interlocking is indicated the completion of the

      Paragraph 4 explains in slightly different language
    what we have said above, and the scriptural image of
    tongues is introduced.

      In paragraph 5 the symbolism of tongues is further
    developed.  Abrahadabra is our primal example of an
    interlocked word.  We assume that the reader has
    thoroughly studied that word in Liber D., etc.  The
    sigil of Cancer links up this symbolism with the number
    of the chapter.

      The remaining paragraphs continue the Gallic


The Book of Lies can be viewed here in its entirety.

According to Thelemapedia, the ritual of the Star Sapphire appears for the first time in chapter 36 of The Book of Lies. The rite is a Thelemic adaptation of the Golden Dawn’s Ritual of the Hexagram. Chapter 69 is a further commentary on Crowley’s interpretation of the Hexagram, and indicates that the rite is to center around mutual oral sex, 69, which resembles the sign of Cancer. Note the synchronistic implications for the current trials of the present author. The pun in the chapter title includes a reference to eggs, which have appeared again and again of late, and my increasing interest in the Rite of the Submerged Egg. Now, Crowley explains above that the symbol of the Hexagram, and therefore of the rite, is to facilitate contact between the Human and the Angel. This is also the purpose of the works being done by the present author. Note also the name of the rite, the Star Sapphire. Now, it was years ago that my Holy Guardian Angel made contact with me in the form of the dream character, who called “herself” Joan Blue (which I shall describe later). Blue is the color of the sapphire and, according to Crowley in this text, of devotion. But the reference becomes even more specific. I recently did a Yahoo search for the words “Joan Blue,” and found this tidbit.

[Joan Crawford] loved sapphires so much the press called them ‘Joan Blue.’ One of her favorite pieces was a bracelet set with three star sapphires of 73.15 carats, 63.61 carats, and 57.65 carats. She also received a 70-carat star sapphire engagement ring from her second husband. She also owned a 72-carat emerald cut sapphire which she often wore on the same finger! In the forties, Crawford added a 75-carat amethyst ring and a huge 100-carat citrine ring, both emerald-cut with a simple mounting.

So, because of Joan Crawford’s taste in jewelry, the press referred to sapphires as Joan Blue. Coincidence? I think not. The symbolism becomes even more profound when I recall one of my all-time favorite films, beloved since childhood: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? starring Bette Davis and Joan Crawford! The rabbit hole goes deep indeed, and goes all the way to Wonderland.

The formula of 69 also recalls the ouroboros, the serpent swallowing its own tail, a symbol of infinity and of return (the licking tongues of this sex act also suggest the snake). The snake has featured prominently in the current cosmic giggle. The snake comes from an egg. The snake casts off its own skin, thus we have a type of renewal and of the Qliphoth. The snake denotes the Kundalini, coiled at the base of the spine (also known as the fire snake), and the rising of which brings illumination and liberation. The snake is also a totem of the forces of chaos which existed before the beginning of the created universe, and which continue to underlie manifestation. The snake is a giver of knowledge (e.g. Lucifer/Lilith in the Garden of Eden), and is a term used by the Kabalist Nathan of Gaza to describe the “thoughtless lights” which opposed creation, and thus birthed the anti-worlds of the Qliphoth (he even used the phrase “faith of the serpents” in reference to this complex of ideas).

Also from Thelemapedia:

Harpocrates: The Egyptian God of Silence. Harpocrates is Greek for the Egyptian Hoor (or Heru) -paar (or par/pa) -kraat (or kraath) and means “Horus the Child.”

Hoor-paar-kraat is the silent god whose minister, Aiwass, communicated The Book of the Law to the Prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu. In the New Comment, Harpocrates, the “Babe in the Egg of Blue“, is described as not only the God of Silence, but as the Higher Self, the Holy Guardian Angel. “The connexion is with the symbolism of the Dwarf in Mythology” (see Besz) and “the Serpent with the Lion’s Head.” “He contains everything in Himself, but is unmanifested.” In Columns XIX (‘Selection of Egyptian Gods’) and XX (‘Complete Practical Attribution of Egyptian Gods’), Harpocrates/ Heru-pa-Kraath are attributed to 0 or the “unmanifest”.

Madness is the outer veil of the Soul as it comes closer and closer in view of conscious awareness.


It seemed to B.W. LaMorte, that in discovering his True Will, the Will is found to be a pathway facilitating the manifestation of N’aton (Nuclear Atom/Nuclear Atman). This manifestation is the apotheosis of the Crowned and Conquering Child, lifting his double head into the aethyrs beyond AOS’s Neither-Neither. The Scales of Libra indicate that (-1)+(+1)=0. The most fierce declaration of in-dividuality possible is the absolute negation of individuality…

This is an absolute negation. I am not, therefore I am.

Tipharetic consciousness, which comports the transmutation of lead into gold through the activation of the Fire Snake, is the level of consciousness necessary for metaprogramming. The Programmer is the HGA, and the Will (or Inherent Dream) is the Loom of Lila and Web of Wyrd – the time-spanning matrix of scripts fashioned and edited by the Metaprogrammer like the computer programmer causes a webpage to manifest. This is the experience of the unity of individual and cosmic will. The inter-face between the two is the True Will. It is for this reason that, having become God of their own reality tunnel, the Magician is then prepared to traffic with entities from “Outside,” as they are capable of changing the script and thus avoiding dis-memberment in the Abyss by their own demons. When the seeker becomes the Path, the Tao, they are beyond the reach of any harm.

I am the result of the mages of the past. Their magics shaped the future, allowing the Shadow to bleed in and dissolve the boundaries of Time. They created me, through the vibrating of occultish words, the publishing of books, the surrendings to ecstasy. I am a point – like them – in the web of power that uses us as a medium. Their astral currents dance across my Inner Eye, to enter “I.” The Owl flies, the seer in Darkness. Nothing obstructs his flight to the Darkness beyond the Sabbath. Bathe in the blood spilled: it is our own! The light of the flames dance across the flesh, transforming lust into wonder into dissolution. I am the heart of the flame. The “Heart Girt With a Serpent” is my name. I am the bornless one. I speak for no-one. Don’t ask any more. My teeth are clenched shut, the serpents lick at my feet.

Please, please jewel-encrusted Mother, the skies are abundant with your splendors. Tell me the answer! I implore you. I am your humble servant, the egg in your ovaries still yet to be fertilized. Call forth your mate, cast me out onto the Earth so I can see your body in its entirety!

…No. Fuck. That wasn’t such a good idea. I want back in! It’s hot down here and there are spiders. I can’t stand this shit. The brochure gave a very different impression. I’m going to call my agent. What a bunch of assholes.

“Tommy, it’s so good to see you again. I thought they had sent you down the can.”

“I was pretty close, John. You’ve got to understand, I’m not paid to convince any-one of any-thing. All I do is write the reports. It’s for the public to decide whether I’m right or wrong.”

“That’s all very true, but the word on the street is that you’re not doing so well. Your old girlfriend said you were on the down-current, weren’t keeping up with the books.”

“That’s all rubbish. I keep it up as good as anybody. Why, just look at the new watch I bought! You can’t imagine that I paid this kind of money just for my own amusement. I’m keeping up appearances.”



Dissolution beckons…

After voluntarily neglecting all that is ‘occult’ for longer than a year in slow enduring fashion, I’ve quickly found that the dark path leads directly towards all which I had abandoned, in what seems to be a space and time from many ages past. Upon fleeting my soul destroyed, I’ve become extremely reclusive, having shut myself deep inside my studio apartment for several years with very little social contact, if any at all. The tragic downfall has lead to heavy drug experimentation with opiates, subsequently resulting in a silent and bitter self-destructive period of agonizing defeat, including a loss of faith in everything and everyone I had been programmed to know. So began the strange process of extensive defamilarization

I am going to attempt to regroup, to refine my thinking and to strategize for the future. Most of all I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to use my life, which is especially bothersome, because for a long time I have felt irrationally-convinced that I am going to die within the next few years. I’m 25 now. Lautreamont was 24 when he died, but he left behind The Songs of Maldoror. So, I feel this great pressure to execute my childhood/adolescent dreams as soon as possible, as it may already be too late. I’m also heavily convinced that I am currently living within the peak of my creativity, which is also a terribly frightening thought considering that I have accomplished very little thus far. I do however believe that I am currently living in an arbitrarily fast-paced environment during an Age of Information-overload, making it incredibly difficult to compare myself to most of my childhood heroes such as Aleister Crowley, who at 22 and having just received his first mystical experience, had just begun reading texts from alchemists and magicians.

My experiences with opiates have resulted in many close encounters with death and the criminal underground, however such an ill-fated journey has led me to a particularly successful defamiliarization of the Self, as I have fortunately not achieved as messy an end as others have that have walked a similar path. Although years have passed, I am still walking, alone, into the heart via the selfsame road in search of a gold-clad illumination. Perhaps it would have been better had I fallen into the pit of eternal void; lost and forever erased from the memory of this world. Instead, I have walked out of history and into mystery. These are not my words. I am B.W. LaMorte.

I cannot be absolutely certain of how I arrived here. Los Angeles is not the city for a reclusive occultist such as myself. If the opportunity presented itself, I would be living in a refurnished ghost-ship, hidden away, beneath some decadent town in ancient eastern Europe. This evening, the streets smell luridly alive but haunted by the Hollywood ghosts of the festering decades. As I move unseen through the darkening streets (I am, after all, a phantom) I cannot fathom what brought me here to begin with. Hollywood is convenient territory for an artist (such a pretentious thing to say), however this is the city of hypocrites and artificial convoys. Deep within the surface this is a horrible place to make a living. The blood of the Los Angeles natives has mixed with that of people all over the world, in search of nothing other than a quick pass through fame and fortune, creating a new race of hypocritical selfless subjugated snakes, poisonous and less subtle than wholly grotesque. These people are the living result of de-evolutionary regression. I want to scream at them as they pass by, but my voice has been replaced by silence.

To-day I wandered the flea market, which surprisingly boasted an interesting collection of shamanistic artifacts. One which stood out to me was a wooden mask of a demonic figure lost in a possessive trance. It occurred to me that such artifacts of occulture have held the same position for hundreds of years, some even thousands– through the rise and fall of empires, the struggles for land, gold and bread, and so much more. Even now occulture is oblivious to these things, situated securely beyond time.