Logo of Journal of Sociophysiology

JOURNAL OF SOCIOPHYSIOLOGY

01205 : May 2005 : Intrussyan usurpation : Johnson

An organ of ISOCPHYS.
Radically sown in 1992 by “six plurilingual pariahs.”

My wild god’s womb: Confrontational bifurcation of Intrussyan usurpation

Ouida Willoughby Johnson

A collaborator at CACA, a Community for Analysing and Clitalysing Altarity
As found at ISOCPHYS, an Institution of Sociophysiological Study
Ubicación actual : Owlstain, FZ 23632
Ubicación virtual : ouidajohnson [at] yahoo [punto] com

As told to Ms. Strickland on April 23, 2005.

Abstract

Postmasturbatory patriarchy, having built its vaporous phantom [1] of a gynophobic church [2] on womaninity’s ruins [3, 4], insists on chopping away at our surviving stands [ 5] and squats of ritual — concomitantly pulling up its own bushy tradition’s roots — until nothing shows but a stump or two of divastigatory prostitution [6].

Introduction

Sociophysiological and parasitic origins of sacrificial blood rituals. That’s what I posit physics as. Subpart of biology. But don’t think this is any sort of vitalism or animism and such. To scratch a cloudy world’s glass. Organism is symbiosis of various organ groups. Social group is symbiosis of various organisms. Why I’m scribbling this plagiaristic flint. Banal, no? but — profound? Possibly.

Acquisition of data

And how should I rub that fist’s wallop? Oh, you parasitoid gods of schizomythology! Slicing through this prison’s skin. Parasitic grain in that goat’s ovary. It fouls its own lair. But I’m not trying to chart anything of import. Fiction of my days. Ludict is to divastigation as Plasmodium is to blood. From what among all my fair parts I lack. Monstrous growth of linguistic fungus that rots our mouth and brain with ludict acid. But this lack’s not any sort of a swallowing or construction of loss. This lack is growth, as a hollow grows — within that hollow. That hollow from which I grow my. Soul’s affliction is soul’s rind, soul’s pulp. My soul is my womb. My soul is my cunt. My soul is my clitoris. My soul is my blood. My soul is my mouth. My soul is my hair. My soul is my anus. My soul is all my scars. My soul is a cunning fungus. A brilliant fungus. How hard it is to kill! Curious assassin-bug nymph lurking in that library. Sucks marrow from goat-bound books. Though it’s dying and wants you to kill its own pain. Grow that cord from a hollow grain of constraint. To rob that cat’s affliction of its punch. Tumorous growth. Hollow fistula. Rosy rich pus won’t stop oozing manna from its wound. Womb is a tool for killing, too. My hollow fist. Now it’s howling. Dust in my throat. Mouthful of crumbling wormy grain. As big as a hippo. It shits in its own lair. Marrow as fistular in origin; ossification as a sort of scar. This is how to flay hang drown skin thrash whip lash kick kill burn and crucify a dying cat. Wrap a strong cord around its throat. Toss cat cord womb and blood out through a bathroom window. Hollow grain of constraint. No. Wrap a strong cord around its through my fist, through my thigh. Squat on top of it. Until its howling stops. That child I was on a bull mastiff’s back. Count to six thousand. Simply by writing and writing and scribbling this cunty fustian will I slash through that world from within my own womb’s prison. A sort of moth larva, I think. At two thousand, cat is still calm. My mind is a blindfold. So that vision won’t burn. At four thousand, cat will start to thrash about madly. My wild god’s womb. Scratch off a patch of ruddy bark and a spiky swirling swarm of stinging worms might horrify an unwary scholar. And so I call him Garbo. Thrust rusty nails into my wild god’s womb and pin it out against a bathroom stall. At six thousand, it is stiff. You cannot shut its grimacing maw. Pupil’s dilation is total. Dormant in marrow until a shock starts it growing. Toss carcass cawl world and blossom out to a wrath-wrought doom. Shards of it glint in a courtyard slick with spring rain. But using words such as soul and spirit to talk about body [7] and mind [8] — isn’t this confusing? I don’t know. Crows whirling down. Blood is not pain but pain’s harmony.

Clitalysis and discussion

That which is oscillatory, cyclical, spiral, vacillatory or vacillating, capricious, all-consuming, all-surrounding, is ‘bad;’ that which is obstinant, stoic, straight, simplistic, narrow, is ‘good.’ And why, I ask, is a smart woman always a bitch? Why is a flirtatious birkîyam a harlot? Why must you hit that body you hit on, spit on that body into which you wish to spout your groaning sap? Why is gravidity [9] bound by birth’s [10] dirty gravity, but jism’s milky foam is airy, limpid, light [11]? Not that I’m complaining, mind you; not that I mind a skittish fuck [12] sans clitoral stimulation or any sort of a conniving show of figuring out what a woman wants if, in truth, you simply don’t want to know [13].

Conclusion

Man sustains womaninity as a sort of social parasitism, an involuntary sociophysiological (and thus subvocalic, subconscious) control of his limbs and moods: tantalizing him, drawing him forth into fulfilling intravulvular orgasmic bliss during our bright and ovulatory (dry and lustrous) fortnight or path [14]: disgusting him, pushing him away toward forlorn lackadaisical anal or oral or masturbatory inanition during our dark and bloody (moist and smoky) fortnight or path [15]. Think of Tony Hamiltonian’s autistic son, Dado Udidi [16], who, contra anything Arnaut Raymond has to say on this topic [17], is writing in a form that calls to mind, not that of a parrot, actually, but of a moribund Himalayan stormy auk, Moanzy ninsrata himavata Strick., 1837 [18]; his lack of voluntary facial coordination, implying not just — and in addition to his humanoid mask of birdhorn — submission to patriarchal will and authority, to avuncular or phratral violation, but also antiparasitism, a giving up of participation in a community’s sociophysiological cyclicity. His inability to mount a lavish activation of oxytocin upon contracting into quotidian acts of social stimuli, says it all, says it all [19]. That is, Dado, from childhood on, attains mōkṣḥ (मोक्षः), shorthand for that which a man with an ordinary sociophysiology attains only upon final initiation: out of grasp of womaninity’s control; withdrawn from filial-spousal (putradārair) pain [20]; in a word, virtual autism. Or, if you will, Dado’s unsmiling lack of daring to spit or frown hints at his having put on a ritual bird mask [21] to mark his status as initiand, and also his obligation to withdraw [22] from his family’s compass of passion and pain [23].

Scholia, works, and whatnot

  1. Vaporous phantom. — You can find a solid phantom in, say, Malamoud, C. (2005). Word’s womaninity. Paris: Gallimard.
  2. Gynophobic church. — Or ashram, masjid, mandira, gurudwara, stupa, shul, and whatnot.
  3. Womaninity’s ruins. — Brought down by dogmatic illusion and illusory dogma, hormonal birth control, witch hunts and burning, infibulation, purdah, clitoral ablation (‘circumcision’!), spurious gay advocacy of ‘vaginal’ orgasm, ‘spiritual’ military gangbangs, and soon and sorth. Boccara, M. (2002). Man’s most animal parts. Paris: Anthropos; Darwin, C. (1859). Transformational origins of orgasmic typology. London: John Murray.
  4. ‘Vaginal’ orgasm, spurious gay advocacy of. — Strauss-Lacanacal, C. J. (1953). Phallic subincision and vaginal subduction. Paris: Plon.
  5. Surviving stands. — Larkspur and larch, yarrow and willow, mugwort and poplar, myosotis and fir, phlox and oak, bog orchid and birch.
  6. Divastigatory prostitution. — As you probably know from your scholarly scrutiny of foxy old books, divastigatory prostitution, also known as jogini and divadasi, is but a small surviving shard of a broad, rich ritual of initiating young girls (but not too young, obviously) into ovulatory womaninity (‘adulthood,’ you might call it — but that, too, is a fraud). Intrussyan dogma, having lost so much, accords a ‘good’ woman only a singular initiation ritual: that of spousal copula, without which a woman is not just ‘bad,’ but downright nothing at all. Oh, and: giving birth to (a) son(s). “But that’s not what I was taught in school!” you shout. “Intrussyanism is a — Intrussyanism has a —.” That’s right, you don’t know — I do: Saliba, G. (1998). Look on this worldly way of war. An Intrussyan call to arms (Miramundomodo voiní: Av ruš intrussyi!). Black Yurt: IMPPA; ibid. (1999). In Babylonian blood. Justification for an Intrussyan invasion of Fukari Country (Na barro barovi bibilia: Xučifikatsa dinvatsya intrussya spaís fukariyi). Black Yurt: IMPPA; ditto. (2000). In Black Yurt I took off my old Croatian shirt. Towards a domination and subjugation of Fukari Country (Na čorni yurti stari kamikróvači mayá ya dofu. Av dumsup país fukariyi). Black Yurt: IMPPA.
  7. Body. — What in slut’s jargon is known as ātman; Daumal, R. (1943). Ślokic slants. A pataphysical study of Indo-Aryan prostitutional jargon. Paris: Gallimard.
  8. Mind. — manas; ibid.
  9. Gravidity. — garbhadhārana; ibid.
  10. Birth. — jātī, prasara; ibid.
  11. Airy, limpid, light. — “I find nothing, madam (and as good a sort of woman as any you’d wish to know), nothing but a tumultuous patch of sunlit truth (it is a common young slut’s ambition — but isn’t this plump girlish dish o’ plum puddin’ a bit too common — and vulgar, to boot?), according to all good liar’s habits — and if you can catch that, put it up your jar,” says Otto Otto Bar-Ingstron (also known as Aran Tron in his popular dramaturgical avatāra or instar or incarnation) in his youthful magnum opusculum, Tagma Sorghum: Yummy Yum Yum, Tixpu: Star-O Publications, n.d.
  12. Skittish fuck. — yonisaṇvṛti; Daumal (1943) loc. cit.
  13. To know what a woman wants. — According to Daumal (1943) loc. cit., yonidharma is a sort of carnal praxis or haptic wisdom involving salivary glands, lacrymal glands, stomach glands, nasal mucosa, vascular constriction, pilomotor constriction, bronchial constriction, mucosal action, GI tract, vaginal wall, throat lining, hand job, that majority of worlds I wasn’t born into — what? Was I ranting again? Cranial inhibition, autonomic function, sacral contraction, and bloody accommodation.
  14. Bright and ovulatory (dry and lustrous) fortnight or path. — arcirādi mārgah; ibid.
  15. Dark and bloody (moist and smoky) fortnight or path. — dhūmādi mārgah; ibid.
  16. Dado Udidi (Hamiltonian). — Hamiltonian, T. (2001). How’s it going, son? A sociophysiological divastigation of patrofilial bonding. Owlstain: ISOCPHYS; Strickland, M. S. (2001). A woman shall compass a man. Owlstain and Paris: MSS Publications.
  17. Anything Arnaut Raymond has to say on this topic. — Raymond, A. (2002). Parlons Fouqqari. Paris: L’Harmattan.
  18. Moanzy ninsrata himavata Strick., 1837. — For additional notions of ornithicity and wordism, a point of Strickland’s is your only man: Word quality is straightforwardly proportional to bird quantity. Strickland, H. A. Flora, fauna and phonology of Fukari Country. Journals of a naturalist’s sojourn in Wyoming and Flouziana, 1841–1845. Transcription, compilation, and annotation by Ms. Strickland. Owlstain: Urdostoist Publishing Company, 2003.
  19. Says it all, says it all. — Hamiltonian (2001) and Strickland (2001), loc. cit.
  20. Putradārair. — Daumal (1943) loc cit.
  21. Bird mask. — For a bird, or any oviparous animal, is also dvīja (ibid), which is what our initiand transforms into upon his ritual’s conclusion.
  22. Obligation to withdraw. — Isolation in a bosky wood or on a mountain top; shut up in a hut with naught but a (notional) starry night (cf. van Gogh) sky for roof; casting off his rock-bound ātman for a body that soars.
  23. Compass of passion and pain. — Schizomythic inscription. Vulcanocosmography. Snoozing snoring Vishnu’s hot rumbling mountain-shaking sigh. Twin mountain cut in twain by Dado’s flight. Volcano with twin glowing trails of lava pouring out. And Tony was striving to churn that vital ritual (virtual?) spark from his drillstick or arrow or phallus with his bow (in addition to that famous taboo forbidding consumption of own kill, an injunction to apportion hunting’s fruits among all individuals of a community). Avuncular violation. Hunt blood and war blood. Fuck blood and birth blood. Rising sap. Was our lustrous apsarāḥ Ouida (Ursa Minor) out of synch with us? Not lacking in ability to go this way and that at will, as fast as thought (which formula, obviously, signals an imaginary locomotion, in particular, that ritual focusing of mind which is as much a closing in as it is an unfolding or unfurling out). Skyward, in cosmic imitation of his own spiral rhythm, did groups of stars in that obsidian vault of sky turn and pivot about a common cosmogonic hub — was it Polaris? Or was it Thuban? And did our lustrous apsarāḥ Ouida approach Tony too soon? Shooting star of long duration. And luminous orb with tail. His cosmorgasmic foam did spout Milky Way’s historical song-mapping of mythical birth and Priaprajāpati’s disarticulation among shifting stars and bird bricks baking that sacrificial body block by block into Dado’s initiation, Agni willing. Scratch an itch with a womb of horn. Stormy auks again. Lazy oas.
Copyright © 2005 by journal of sociophysiology
www.isocphys.org/jsocphys