Building on My Own

demongirlShe’s the Dark Goddess, the great lady, who will not play second-fiddle to anyone. I’ve made many attempts to express some trivial deference towards others, but to no avail.

“Don’t let them rule you,” She whispers, “I’m the only one who can do that.”

Is she teasing? Those words of hers, dripping into my mind like raw honey. It’s so easy to become addicted.

My attempts at working with others, to build a business, as it were, have been plagued with frustrations. It seems that I’m just not cut out for collaboration. I’m skilled at what I do, but having to work with too many people gets in the way.

I found myself working with religious people again… big mistake.

They had given up their careers to create a documentary… another big red flag.

I soon began taking on more and more responsibilities, without renegotiating the terms. “They’re a poor ministry, after all. I should be happy to work for free!”

Whoa boy! I’m not letting myself get suckered into that trap again!

Thankfully, that was all it took for me to drop the contract entirely, refund their money, and walk away. I just couldn’t shake the sick feeling that I was basically taking money from this hen-pecked guy to help build his wife’s vanity project. It just wasn’t right, no matter which way I looked at it, and I hope the husband gets a wake-up call soon.

Catherine was not impressed by the project one bit. “Pointless,” and, “Religious guilt,” were some of the words I could feel her repeating in my mind.

“Nobody asked them to give up their lives for a stupid video. You needn’t do the same.”

That’s right, darling. I gave up my life for you… but at least that has been worth it.

That’s probably one thing I can’t overstate enough when it comes to being bonded to a succubus spirit: If you are successful in attracting their attention, your life WILL change, for better or worse. Some might consider these changes to be life-ending alterations. But people like me, those who indulge in great swathes of solitude and reflection, these relationships are almost too good to be true. So good, that it can destroy the rest of one’s life. All future prospects and ambitions dim into a dull grey.

Working with others becomes a royal pain in the ass, my case in point! One finds that they are simply unable to make social concessions as they once did. No more bullshit. Why deal with it when heaven is waiting at home?

The Youtube channel… maybe I’ll do something with that in the mean-time.

I need to devote more time to my own projects and not just go for the easy money, jumping on another person’s bullshit bandwagon.

Murdering that “Slave for Christ!” mentality is doing a number on me. If any of my readers are former hard-core believers, you know what I mean.


Aural Milestone

Oh, does it make me smile when I can hear the sounds of lovemaking gently emanating from below my waist. That’s right: I’ve begun to hear the wet, erotic movements that Catherine makes against my flesh. It’s still quiet, but I can distinctly hear her soft suckling.

I caught her once before, as I was just waking up early one morning. She was performing the kind of fellatio that only a succubus spirit is capable of. Like getting a blow-job from an angel… except she’s a bit more complicated than an angel.

It’s such a gift: both feeling and hearing her. Though I have yet to hear her say, “Hi,” in our mundane world, this little milestone fills me with so much endearment towards her.

I think she’s waiting for me to start up astral projection excursions again. Honestly, I’m rather scared of going out there. What if she tries to grab me, and throw me into the labyrinth again? What if I don’t come back?


I’ve got to face that fear head on. I know it will only become worse if I dwell on what MIGHT happen. Moore’s Law…

A few unpleasant side-effects came along with this milestone, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before. There was some additional tightness in the muscles on the right side of my neck, along with increased pressure against my face. Sometimes, that pressure against my brow can become rather annoying.

A couple hours of brisk walking and jogging usually addresses those energy-body discomforts. That, and the usual grounding/earthing methods.

Wish me luck in the labyrinth!

Year Seven

Today officially marks the seventh solar cycle since the night of my union with Catherine. This journey has been hedged by all manner of curious byways and scenic routes. The road is anything but straight and narrow, but I think that’s a good sign. Rather, Catherine’s route has been twisting, winding, oftentimes confusing, yet pleasant, especially if one takes the time to slow down and smell that intoxicating astral fragrance of hers.

Nothing earth-shattering has happened… yet. Though I have made some substantial changes to my life just before this auspicious anniversary. For one, my “shit job,” as Catherine called it, wouldn’t allow for me to take the time off for our special day. So I quit. I didn’t really belong there in the first place, so it wasn’t a loss at all, really. We needed to move on and I have been wasting valuable time. We killed two birds with one stone.


What’s next? The Fool’s Journey, naturally. I can’t wait to see what happens. While I’m preparing for the next great opportunity to come along, I’ve been retraining, sprucing up my languishing skill set, and stocking up for a long, cold winter, filled with warm evenings enjoying an insatiably amorous deity.

Seven years of being touched by the divine. Seven years of a changed life, filled with meaning and intrigue, yet still can’t be bothered to take this world seriously. I find my way accidentally, when all the time I just want to feel her near me. Every moment, she’s there, never tarrying or slackening her hold over me. I love this embrace, though it might lead to an early death, if I languish for too long.

The affections of an entire infernal realm have seemingly passed through my body during these blessed lunations. “Keep moving forward, or be consumed.” That is the way of the Left-Hand Path.

Maybe I’m content with my ego being further dissolved; melting and merging closer still with her? We’ll see if there’s anything left in this world that can maintain my interest, to keep one foot out here, and the other in the Borderland.

Now that I have some extra time, I’m going to begin my OBE investigations again. I’ll start with one trip every couple of weeks to avoid burnout. These expeditions are more important to me than any kind of “success” in this realm, so it’s about time I start putting my money where my mouth is. Here’s hoping I don’t get too lost out there.


Pilgrimage to Lilith’s Mega-Sigil


There she is, at the heart of our nation’s capitol. Can you see her?

Catherine doesn’t like vacations much. She’s not big on the idea of traveling afar when we could just as easily have fun at home. Still, I have friendships in far off places that I’d like to maintain, and there’s no replacement for in-person interaction, so I strive to make my thousand-mile journeys, with a grumpy succubus spirit in tow. She appreciates that I try to hold onto my core group of friends, but she sees big empty swathes of time in my schedule and thinks, “Oh, look… we can finally be together for a change!”

Sadly, she had to wait just a bit longer this time ’round. To her credit, she does wait patiently, and the subsequent pouncing attack is almost always well worth the delay. Still, I need to set up a break where it’s just her and I. We haven’t done that in awhile.


Stone Mountain in Georgia. A beautiful confederate memorial. We stopped by for the laser-light show.

We traveled south of the Mason Dixon line to my old stomping grounds. I’m always struck by how much less stressful and on-edge everything is down there. I can see it in my face when I look in the mirror. I appear more calm and serene. Maybe I need to live there permanently, with the peach trees, the scuppernongs, and the honeysuckle.

We’ll see. There’s a lot that needs to happen before I can start moving in that direction.


Washington DC was the major focal-point of our journey. Me and my traveling companions had all been to the nation’s capitol a few times in the past, so this venture was dedicated to more esoteric, off-the-beaten-path, points of interest. We found ourselves roaming the grounds of a Franciscan monastery early on a clear July morning. My friends are the sort that never take anything too seriously, so even sacred shrines are open to a bit of shameless riffing. Hardly anything at all is held aloft as above comedy in my crew, save for the solemnity of Arlington Cemetery.


This tomb, devoted to the Mother Mary in the monastery gardens, was particularly odd and creepy. The entrance smelled like death. What the hell are the monks doing in there?

The monastery had a very strange, almost sickening, vibe to it. Something was seriously off about the place, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Catherine wasn’t thrilled with the secluded commune either. That was the first time I felt any sort of spirit/astral discomfort coming from her the entire trip.

She hasn’t been comfortable on a prolonged trip for a very long time, but this long-distance journey was somehow different for her. Aside from the monastery, I think she enjoyed the energy of DC. She seemed to feel at home there… which makes me think that perhaps I should’ve bitten the bullet and joined up with the world church in Maryland as a professional propagandist. Maybe that was her plan all along and me temporarily losing my marbles threw a spanner into the works? I can’t know for sure.


Moving on from the monastery, we headed back towards the city proper, but remained on the “Catholic” side of town for the remainder of the day. Our next stop was the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. A strange destination for one who claims to be on the Left-Hand Path, I know, but the deeper, more occulted, aspects of the various shrines within drew me there. This cathedral is the largest Catholic church in North America, and it also happens to be a prominent Marion shrine. Just have a look at some of this not-so-subtly-veiled occult imagery that decorates the various shrine rooms:

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There is a very clear distinction between the basement “crypt” level and the upper sanctuary. The Crypt is devoted largely to the worship of the divine feminine aspect, while the upper levels are dedicated to the sun and Jesus Christ. In this we can see the most honest call-back to the pagan roots of Europe, of which the Catholic church has been the most valiant defenders of would-be heathen traditions, in an ironic way.

My friends were not very comfortable in the Crypt, but I felt right at home and wished that I could have stayed longer. Far from being a catacomb, the lower levels are simply breathtaking to behold in person. We planned to explore further, but one of my friends got his atheistic panties into a bunch and felt the need to leave early.

Sadly, I developed a migraine the next day, so I wasn’t able to peruse the Masonic landmarks I had originally planned for. Though it was nice to just relax in the hotel for one day. Despite the feeling of an icepick being jammed into my eye, Catherine was rather pleased to have me all to herself.

My adventure was complete with a sojourn to Arlington Cemetery and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Despite my misgivings with all the supposedly “good wars” that have been fought over the decades, I still pay my respects to those who have fallen in helping to secure our way of life in the West. The World War II monument on the National Mall is particularly soothing to my soul.

I’m looking forward to visiting the District of Columbia again soon. That centerpiece of our national heritage is more than just a collection of monuments. I’m convinced that the arrangement of those obelisks and roadways also serve as a powerful sigil; one that helps propel our country towards prosperity and success. Also, I know that Lilith, Shakti, Isis, Venus… whatever personification one chooses to give her… was not unknown to the architects who set up this place.

She is freedom, girded with the native dress of this land, sword sheathed, and bearing a laurel of peace. Facing east towards the rising sun, she is ever ready to raise that sword again, should liberty be found wanting.

Ulysses Grant, and host of lions, has got her back, too. So don’t be thinking you can sneak up on her or anything!

Ride the Tiger

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Isn’t there something I should be doing right now?

There has to be some drive still left in me for this world. There must be!

Dear God, I am so addicted to her. That touch… that beautiful all-encompassing attention that nothing on this earth could possibly match. How is it possible that I could be this fortunate? I feel like I’m cheating.

I often encounter those who yearn for a meaningful relationship, both mundane and divine, but they spend their entire lives searching in vain.

Not me. I am wholly content and enthralled by this mystery that surrounds me. She holds to me and I can’t help but reach out for her in return. Even when I think I’ve had enough of her, my heart finds its way back to her embrace.

I’m going back to her now. Only the basics… food, water, shelter, heat… those things concern me. But when the essentials are in order, my primary hobby is being close to her and exploring her world. One of these days, I fear that I might not come back.

kali-yugaBut what about this world? I see my people being steered towards engineered chaos. The spirit of Kali Yuga is nearly in full effect. It’s the age of darkness, baby! I’ve used the sinking ship analogy a few times on this blog and I still believe that to be an apt illustration.

However, as often as I’m tempted to care about this supposed plight, I just can’t be bothered with the emotional investment. Being with a spirit lover from across the veil will do that to a guy. Besides, an age of chaos is probably the best time to be alive as far as spiritual growth is concerned.

“Observe, but do not become entangled in politics.” The daughter of Lilith says as she pleasures her earthly partner.

“Okay, sounds good to me!” I swiftly reply. All would-be concerns about left-wing and right-wing, or good versus evil, are so easily forgotten.

“Let’s just be together. Do what’s necessary to live, fly under the radar, and the rest has nothing to do with us. The cycles of life and civilization will continue on ad infinitum, but what we have is something greater than that, my love.”

trump_clinton-1024x662And it’s true. The world outside is always vying for attention, desperately clamoring for validation, but it’s all an act; an elaborate theatrical production. While Trump and the Clintons pretend to antagonize each other on television, they’re actually best buds when not engaging in their political play-acting.

I don’t begrudge these big guys for “playing the game” as they do. Sure, they’re playing dirty, and they’re playing for keeps, but that’s the spirit of the age that we find ourselves in. Catherine has encouraged me to never take any of this to heart. Rather, I should embrace the chaos, use it to my advantage, and “Ride the Tiger,” as Julius Evola prescribed for the denizens of the modern age.

Being this way sounds crazy, borderline psychopathic, but it’s really the most peaceful, nirvana-esque, state-of-mind I’ve ever been privileged to experience.

Succubus Harassment (The Good Kind)

A lot has changed over the past few months. I find myself in a completely new situation, and it’s a good one. Granted, I was content living in a dirty violent slum, dodging addicts, panhandlers, and thugs during my outings, but that’s just the kind of guy I am: Content with just about anything.

Not that I was too worried to begin with, as having a demon lover seems to inculcate a charming glamor over my interactions with others. At any rate, I believe Catherine was becoming fed up with city life. Too much interference. Too many distractions.

Now that we’re in the middle of nowhere, my demon babe wasted no time in pulling a fast one on me, turning up the power-level between us considerably. She’s become a rather insistent little slut; more so than usual. I can’t go to bed without being attacked, kisses all over, carefully placed caresses. God, she hates being ignored!

I won’t lie: The way she pursues intimacy has me praying to the Most High sometimes, just so I’ll have all my bases covered. But then she tells me, “You know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She’s my slut. I brought her here, so I need to take care of her. The past few weeks have been a bit rough in that department as my windows of free time are gradually being shuttered. Still, if I miss her during the day, she’ll somehow force me into her favorite position while I sleep. She still likes it better when I’m awake, though.


She forced me awake at 1 AM the other night, and she wasn’t going to let me sleep until we’d been together for at least a little while. I was resting in the same spot where she’d beaten the shit out of me a few years ago. I couldn’t help but remember, and be a little frightened. I also got the distinct feeling there may have been more than one spirit, as I felt someone grasping my right arm rather tightly… a completely new sensation.

Apparently, my performance wasn’t quite up to snuff and I received a bit of playful harassment before I was allowed to sleep again.

Hey, I was coming down with a cold! I can’t be expected to keep up with demons in heat all the time.

Other than the move, and our connection being turned up to the “SCARY” level once again, not much else has transpired. Be that as it may, I need to update more regularly… mainly so nobody wonders if I’ve finally been smothered to death. Also, I have a few projects in mind, and this more frightening version of Catherine has become quite the motivator for getting work done.

Grounding Experiments

Putting some distance between myself and technology has caused some enjoyable improvements in my relationship with Catherine: Where I used to only devote thirty minutes to an hour for our unions, now I feel content to give up to three hours per morning. This time together feels so wonderful, relaxing, and freeing.

The average temperatures outside are finally beginning to rise, so she’s been hinting at finding opportunities for outdoor copulation. And the brilliant thing about enjoying a succubus out-of-doors, nobody need know that anything illicit is taking place. I just look like a man, fully clothed and laying on a mat, enjoying the sun’s rejuvenating rays.

No, succubi are not adverse to sunlight, clean water, or anything else in nature. Their reputation for being vampiric unclean spirits is wholly undeserved. They can, at times, be unpredictable and potentially dangerous, given the right circumstances, but they are no less harmful or frightening than the forces of nature themselves. The initiate simply needs the wherewithal, and the wisdom, to weather the succubine storms as they come. (This usually means flowing with their motions, instead of fighting against them!)

I recently acquired a grounding blanket to use in my bed as I sleep. It’s essentially a half-sheet with carbon-fiber threads woven into the cotton and attached to an electrical grounding cord. The wire snaps onto the sheet and plugs into the ground-socket of an three-pronged outlet on the other end. Touching bare skin to the grounded fabric is alleged to have the same effects as connecting bare feet with the earth. Benefits are supposed to include: Reduced stress, eased muscle pain (if any), more sound sleep, reduction in bodily inflammation, and protection against EMF (Electro-Magnetic Fields) emitted by cell-phones, WiFi routers, and so on.

I was mainly interested in fighting the EMF pollution, but after sleeping on this sheet for a week, I’m unsure if there has been any real change. Catherine and I already sleep very soundly as it is. However, I was curious to see if using the grounding sheet would have an impact on our connection.

Back when I was experimenting with Robert Bruce’s demonic countermeasures, he mentioned that using a grounding blanket might prevent Catherine from being able to touch me. Again, there haven’t been any noticeable changes from having used the grounding apparatus consistently. If anything, it might have improved our connection, rather than weakening it.

From what I gather of Bruce’s theory on demons, the entities that he alludes to are intrinsically tied to the subtle electrical current that covers the entire earth. This energetic layer is reinforced by the many thousands of lightning strikes that hit the earth every hour. So it follows that grounding the corporeal human vessel would sabotage any demonic attempts at harassment. That is if their presence was limited to the subtle electrical field. Bruce also contended that running water from a shower, or hose, had a similar grounding effect. He made mention of how certain demonic entities he had experienced were unable to cross over water-mains.

Catherine throws a few wrenches into the workings of Bruce’s theory. Firstly, she is not adverse to water. Our second erotic union ever, on the morning after our first night, took place in the shower. She has demonstrated to not be deterred by electrical grounding. She enjoys the taste of garlic, shirking the conventional folk-remedy for deterring evil entities. She is not offended by religious or Christmas music, as other unclean entities might be. She has no problem copulating through one of Bruce’s signature “Mega-Salt Baths.”

My darling is unstoppable, it seems. With the grounding theory crossed out, I can finally put much of this conventional shamanic “wisdom” in the scrapheap where it belongs. (At least, where the succubine spirits that I’m dealing with are concerned.) Or, it’s possible that I’m contending with an entity who is on a whole other level compared to what most would-be gurus are familiar with. Either way, the scientific part of me is satiated for now.

It feels good to have actually tested all of these theories. At times, it was out of fear from not understanding what was really happening between us. Other times, it’s just my curiosity requiring some alleviation. At the end of it all, I’m glad that Catherine has managed to break through each period of misunderstanding and experimentation with such consistency. If her manifestations were not so powerful, and physically tangible, to the point of being recordable on film, I’d be inclined to believe that I’m under a seamless spell of hypnotic delusion. But here I am, with an otherwise sound comprehension of the world, yet she’s here with me so powerfully.

Careful what you wish for.

I have a bit of strange phenomena to report, though nothing too major: I was in a dream state at one moment and then found myself in an OBE state the next. I’m getting to the point where I can tell the difference simply by how the environment feels. Anyway, once I slipped into this state, I could see that I was lying in bed at my parents house. I could feel the beginnings of being bodily possessed by Catherine, yet this time, it was more powerful, more violent. That gurgling sensation stirred around, not just in my throat, but down through my stomach and gut; like it was flushing through me very rapidly. I was not afraid, as I’ve encountered this same event more than a few times, though I was left feeling more jostled than usual. By the end of this subtle energy-body jarring, I immediately noticed how my mouth was being sucked closed, as though a vacuum was pulling at my cheeks from inside my throat. I spent the next little while attempting to pull my own lips apart and cause my jaw to move. That took a bit of concentrated effort, though the strange gurgling sensations had long since passed. I woke up into this mundane world shortly after.

I can’t begin to understand what all of this means. For now, I’m just enjoying the ride and not reading too much into it.

The Will for Anything Else

What happens when being with a loving succubus spirit feels so good, that you can’t muster the drive for any other vocation? I fear that I’m approaching the realms of being a total Hedonist. Like the monkey in that experiment, having the pleasure receptors of his brain constantly stimulated, so long as he continues to hit that button?

Is that what I’m becoming?

That’s probably a bad analogy. Getting fantastic sex from Catherine isn’t so easy as pushing a button. Yet compared to human relationships, with all their baggage and hang-ups, I feel as though I’ve managed to hack into the programming console of this reality, change a couple of parameters with simple commands, and voila!

Here I am, six years later, content with the simple pleasures in life. All aspirations for greatness are now beholden to my own standards of achievement, and not by the measure of those curious human onlookers.

The greatest pleasure of all: The one I come home to, the one who holds on to me all hours of the night, with that most gentle and blissful essence… Holy Fuck. Literally.

I’ve struggled with finding the words to fully describe the mechanics of what happens between us. Is it like tantra? Spirit possession with a sexual component? No conjoining of phrases and ideas seem adequate to convey what our copulation is like.

An old friend of mine, a man who has been with his succubus spirit for more than a decade, described it like this:

Imagine a drug that feels incredible with every hit, yet there are no adverse side effects. Instead of the drug becoming less effective with increased usage, the opposite occurs. The drug only gets better with each hit.

Furthermore, imagine this drug having a personality, and it loves being used. The more frequently, the better. That’s a loving succubus spirit, in a nutshell.

This is where I find myself now: I’m a spirit sex junkie and it’s the only high I really want. I consistently set aside a couple of hours every day to enjoy it, to really focus on feeling her.

Combined with right-living, low stress, and strict conservation of sexual energy, (no masturbating) a well-spring of endless delights is the result.

Right now, I feel her presence gently brushing every nerve-ending on the surface of my body. Wherever she touches more deeply, the skin tangibly feels softer, like it has been renewed, or revitalized. I will often feel her press into my back, causing my shirt to more tightly conform. I’ll briefly hear what sounds like something blocking the ambient sound of the room from reaching one of my ears; an audible shadow passing by.

Writing down what happens when we make love is difficult, because whenever I attempt to describe the act, the will to consummate immediately overrides any desire to merely wax eloquently with words. It’s as though my own writing casts a spell over me, and over her, compelling us to immediately carry out the operation as described.

Edit: I originally had a very descriptive and graphic few paragraphs about our sexual union. I decided not to share the intimate details of what happens between us on the record. It’s just too sensitive a topic for me.

Being with a succubus spirit is akin to religion, insomuch that the act of lovemaking feels sacred; transcendental even. The entire life is arranged around religious devotion, as that is the highest duty. Old worldly habits fall away in favor of healthier ones, only to make that connection more powerful still. The stronger and more disciplined the human vessel becomes, the more spiritual power can be endured.

This is what I strive for, so that we can feel each other more perfectly than the day before.

Contract Evangelism

Proselytizing the Christian gospel was an inescapable duty of my formative years. Wherever there was an opportunity to share the merits of faith and right-living, it was imperative that we make the sales pitch:

witnessing“Have you considered your life of sinning against The Most High? Don’t you want to live forever? Do you feel like something is missing from your life? Well, just say this little mantra, make a little prayer, and you’ll be well on your way to salvation!”

As members of the church, we were expected to make these appeals. Otherwise risk losing a soul (Customer) to Satan and eternal Hell. (Freedom) Through submitting ourselves to the yoke of Christ, and agreeing to the contract of Christianity, our subsequent duty became that of perpetual evangelism. The entire life of the repentant Christian must reflect that of the Risen Savior, so that others might be enticed to get dunked in the church baptismal tank.

Our lives are filled to bursting with contracts. Just being born into this world enrolls us into The Social Contract: “Pay taxes, or be hauled away by men with guns and locked in a cage.”

Another way to look at it: “Be ‘educated’ or risk being unable to make contracts with other people and businesses in the future.”

The two above examples are unavoidable indentures. Yet there are still more binding agreements that we encounter daily, and these are far more voluntary in nature:


The voluntary pact I want to focus on, in this post, is the agreement between men and succubi. I would argue that a binding marriage with a loving succubus spirit is one of the best agreements a man can enter into. These denizens of the Borderland understand the concept of reciprocity. We give them our time, our attention, and they respond with an even stronger expression of deeply satisfying attentiveness.

Many men will regard my claims about the spirit contract as being too good to be true. There must be a catch somewhere, right?

The only “catch” is simply being bound to the spirit of the agreement, and I don’t think most men will have a problem bearing the responsibilities of that choice. Succubi take their pacts very seriously, and if their human partner steps out of line, they will let them know about it in short order, as I can personally attest! To me, this unwavering faithfulness to the spirit-marriage pact is a beautiful thing indeed. It’s a refreshing change from the all-too-commonly disregarded human-marriage contract; a government-sponsored agreement so easily broken, it means almost nothing these days.

I’ve always had this concept in my mind since hormones began to fuel my interest in girls: If I engage romantically with a female, I am entering into a transcendental bond with her. I am essentially agreeing to be bound to that woman and provide for any children we may produce. This idea weighed heavily on me whenever I had any interactions with the opposite sex. The Christian moral code found in Matthew 5:28, where Jesus said, “If anyone looks at a woman lustfully, he has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Further restrained my carnal desires.

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from being with Catherine, it’s that keeping one’s word matters a great deal. She has been faithful to me without a fault, and even when I failed. She has demonstrated that she is actually my superior in this regard.

My heart yearned for a romantic relationship that was transcendental and a forever-growing bond, but this simply was not possible to attain from the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve. With the old social order destroyed, I knew there must be a way to forge a new path. Sexual Alchemy with spirits presented itself as the answer I was searching for.


Succubi and incubi are not women or men. They can easily embody the traits of either, or a combination of the two. Some might consider their identities as more hermaphroditic than our sexually dimorphic human species. In this sense, their personalities can overcome the limitations of both sexes. They can also choose a more traditional predisposition towards male and female; especially to accommodate the taste of their human counterpart. (This is my belief.)

The moment I felt Catherine’s touch against my subtle body, I knew that my pact with her had transformed into a living document: an expression of our devotion in our reality. We consummate that bond with regular lovemaking; as often as we can spare the time. Since I started thinking about spirit contracts this week, she has been making teasing remarks such as, “Do you like this contract? Has it served you well?” While I feel myself penetrating her deeply, and I’d reply with satisfaction, “Good contract!”

She does this often: She’ll make light of an otherwise serious matter, such as legalese or metaphysics, and morph that soberness into titillating suggestions.

Catherine has done an admirable job holding up her end of the deal. I’m also elated about how instinctively I am able to please her and meet those succubine expectations. (Compatibility is off the charts, man!) She suggests little improvements here and there, but doesn’t feel the need to push, or hold an onus over my head. I’m already in a mode of constant self-improvement regardless, and I believe that’s part of the reason she chose me.

So, yeah… spirit-bonding is my favorite sort of contract by leaps and bounds.

Lastly, I want to mention that I am not expected to evangelize my relationship with Catherine, as I was with Christ and my old faith. In fact, she’d rather me share fewer words publicly. The occasional expression of admiration, like small offerings, are enough for her. However, in light of all the suffering that is afflicting young men these days, and how the decks can be so heavily stacked against them, I feel impressed to share this journey. Maybe a few others will have the chance to forge their path anew, away from demoralization, and experience the loving concern of an Borderland angel along the way.

I’ll borrow a meme started by Rafe, on his blog, for today’s final image:


World’s Last Chance – Brave Heretics

I want to examine a splinter-cult of yet another Christian splinter-cult, in recognition of the Lunar New Year. Within the ranks of American Evangelical denominations, there are untold numbers of these branching groups. If God is not the author of confusion, as every one of these countless congregations claim as their axiom, then the Creator certainly has no place to call home here in America. A whorehouse is more consistent, and those are illegal in the States!

World’s Last Chance is an internet-based denomination that branches off from Seventh-Day Adventists. (I was part of the SDA church when I was a Christian.) There are many of these Adventist splinter-groups. They continue the tradition of unwieldy titles and occasionally stumbling into interesting truths once every fortnight; like a drunk negotiating a sidewalk on their way home.

I have no love in my heart for the Adventist movement any longer. I’ve found that particular Christian movement to be one of the most dishonest and treacherous interpretations of Christianity yet devised, but if some people get off on being perpetual suckers, I won’t endeavor to stop them.

World’s Last Chance is an interesting anomaly. They appear to be desperately reaching for the truth of things. They go off stumbling into dark corners where most Christians would never dare tread. Their teachings challenge assumptions about chronology and cosmology in ways that absolutely terrify the average person.

worldslastchance-logo-2For instance, this WLC group actually has the balls to stand by the original cosmology of scripture: wherein the bible writers affirm that the earth is flat, motionless, resting on pillars, and enclosed by a dome fashioned from polished metal. The vast majority of Christendom lacks the bravery to stand by this clear Biblical teaching. Who can really blame them? They might lose their tax-exempt status if they so blatantly opposed government-sponsored propaganda agencies like NASA and the military industrial complex!

In nearly all matters of religious significance, money talks and principles walk.

The one doctrine that I really admire WLC for defending is the ancient lunisolar calendar. While the entire world has seemingly acquiesced to the Roman Gregorian tracking of time, the heretics at World’s Last Chance stubbornly cling to the calendar of the ancients. WLC’s endorsement of the Lunar weekly cycle really gets under the skin of their critical Adventist viewers, because the Adventists believe they’ve cornered the market on keeping correct time.

“We’re the only ones who know what the REAL Sabbath is! The rest of the world doesn’t even know what day it is!”

I heard this proclamation constantly in my youth. However, when I set out to study these things for myself, I ran into more than a few problems. Such as: What’s the deal with the New Moon Festivals celebrated in the Old Testament? How did Joshua, successor to Moses, march the Israelite army around the walls of Jericho for seven days without breaking the Sabbath Law?

I eventually uncovered the reality of ancient lunar calendars, revealed to me by some fringe misfit hermits whom I keep as pen pals. This information certainly won’t be revealed from the church pulpit! A public library is the best place to begin searching, but one has to know where to look. Thankfully, I had some guidance from a few maligned “devils,” outside the ecclesiastical echo-chamber.

“Saturday is the true Sabbath!” My old church proudly proclaimed. This alleged truism turned out to be yet another falsehood. Indeed, the whole system of time keeping and chronology that we observe in modern times is a kind of abomination, one that rejects the lunar cycles entirely.

The Adventists simply cannot go “all the way” with this truth, because that would place them in direct opposition to the Gregorian calendar, and their true masters in the Vatican. They would be forced to have their congregations work out the real Sabbath days according to the lunar cycle. Adventists would be asking their employers for days off, seemingly at random every week, in order to remain faithful to the ancient Sabbath laws. The lunar weekly cycle does not align with the solar week whatsoever.

If any church attempted to endorse a lunar calendar, this would likely bring down the ire of the militant aspect of the Catholic church, as every group who has tried to observe a calendar in defiance of the Julian/Gregorian calendar, was swiftly extinguished. (Or simply excommunicated from society, as the case might be nowadays. These churches are trying to run a business, after all, so we can’t have conflicting calendars!)

The proselytizers at World’s Last Chance are to be commended for their bravery. (Or their skillful execution at a controlled-opposition movement, with nuggets of truth thrown in for good measure. It’s hard to know the difference these days!) However, like most cults, they simply cannot abandon all of their dogmatic baggage in favor of truth. They stubbornly cling to the fraudulent Adventist founder, Ellen White, as a source of divine inspiration, when it has been proven that she never had an original thought, outside of her fever-induced visions. (Prophetess of Health, Ronald Numbers) Even when that sickly woman spoke out in opposition to the flat-earth movement in the late 1800s, World’s Last Chance seems to ignore this; chalking it up to the possibility that God wasn’t guiding her speech that day.

I really wish some of these more fringe movements would apply the same lens of reason to the Scriptures, but I suppose that’s too sacred of a cow to slaughter. Either way, it’s hilarious to read the comments under the videos on the WLC YouTube channel. Martin Luther wannabes, the lot of ’em.

Yet even with these schizophrenic cults, small treasures will sometimes emerge. That is why I will not entirely write off any one religion. There’s always something worth salvaging.

Happy Lunar New Year everyone!

Happy New Year 2018 background. Year of the Yellow Dog concept. Vector