i wake up and my siamese- a hefty bean bag shaped mawkin- is sitting on my head, purring. telling me things.
she was really saying something.
in the iseum on the banks of the tiber- the sybil demands the return of the great goddess. first they bring the black rock of cybele and her priest /eunichs, even though in the east she is served by priestesses. they restrict their public rites to once a year as the butch romans got all queasy when shrieking supplicants sliced their dicks off with stones.
it was too unruly and the rest of the devotions too emotional. read: she could fucking take over- uh oh.
the romans eventually conquer egypt but are forced to assimulate on the egyptians terms. the africans refuse to give up their mother. isis next makes her way to rome. women plunge into the icy river and drag themselves on their bloody knees to her temple, wailing sinful mad.
her temple is continuously destroyed and rebuilt depending on which emperor is in power. her children are crucified in the streets.
rome creates jesus to do her in.
but the son is not the mother. her children are continuously burnt, raped demonized. the rax romana is rape and genocide- spiritually physically- on a large scale.
her children sack rome and satan takes its place.
the son is not the mother.
i sit in the temple of bast. i look at the siamese and her mother and they say, "kill the rat and make it feel".
celebrate your own death. celebrate her. placate her because she's coming to get you-
happy halloween- the day of the dead.