1. Thanks for moneys pledged via Patreon, it is a surprise that anyone reads my writings at all, let alone that they would toss some coin into my well of drowned kittens. As the EU devours nation after nation, the religion of peace rape-conquers Europe with the help of traitors and manginas, and Fukushima’s radiation kills off the world’s oceans, my own life seems ever more insignificant, but then it was already so piffling that the end of Western civilisation, and the destruction of all life on Earth can’t make much difference.
2. i recently hatched a new literary crush – Tim Powers, labelled as a sci-fi/Fantasy writer. i finished his novel Declare yesterday in a state of stupefied resentment & awe – resentment inasmuch as it is more or less the novel i’d been planning for the last 15 years, a Fantasy/metaphysical spy thriller set in WW2 and the Cold War. Here is a scene, chosen at random, where Andrew Hale, SIS and involuntary occultist, meets a non-human in the desert:
“Human enough to have survived the doom of your kingdom,” Hale observed. He didn’t change his expression, but he had to run his tongue around the inside of his mouth to be sure he had not actually eaten something, and he wished he had brought his water bottle with him when he had walked away from his camel – for his mouth was fouled with the woody taste of dry, long-stale bread.
The red lips smiled in the black beard, exposing white teeth, though there was no change of expression in the watchful eyes. “Human enough for half of me to have survived.”
Hale breathed in and out through his open mouth, trying to lose the taste. “How did the…the killing stone…kill your people?”
A’ad stared at Hale as if at an idiot. “Know, O man, that it fell upon them. It, and others like it.” He shook his head, then dipped his fingers over his right knee, by the blinking parrot’s head. “Do try this meat. You have never tasted anything as exquisite as the seasoning of this dish.”
“Akh al-Jahala!” cawed the parrot. The phrase meant brother of ignorance.
Oddly, this scene felt familiar in an agent-running context; and Hale realised that it was like debriefing an Arab agent who has lost respect for the handler and is about to stop cooperating. Get what you can, fast, he thought.
It’s at times Alan Fursty in atmosphere, with an almost Kafka strangeness. Impossible to summarise neatly, but it’s about occult cliques in military intelligence, djinns, Kim Philby, nations, and quite a lot of mystic Catholicism. Powers evidently read biographies of Philby and then wrote this to fill in blanks with fantasy – i know little of Philby but as far as i know all of this is good fantastical speculation on history. As with any good Fantasy novel, parts of it are true – for example, a kind of trance-walk which takes the walker long distances through danger unscathed, unremembering, which Peter Kingsley also wrote of in his last work.
In the novel, a so-called djinn becomes a protecting angel of the Soviet Union, maintaining its internal cohesion in return for lavish blood sacrifices. In the novel, this accounts for the enormous purges of the USSR, and actually it would explain why Sweden is now the rape capital of Europe – because they sacrificed nothing in the war, and so their nation is now gone, just a geographical definition.
3. Every idea, every symbol, can take on a “life of its own”, as an independent intelligence, a spirit. A nation is an idea and symbol. As i see it, the EU is a continuation of the thoroughly malign spirit of the USSR – socialist hegemony and levelling, to annihilate identity and human individuality, to create a Tower of Babel with an inner circle of unelected and unaccountable bureaucrats having dominion over hitherto free nations. It is the “spirit” of the Machine, of a world cleared of the human.
Even if England votes to Leave tomorrow, so far a good 50% of those polled vote to Remain, indicating the servile depths to which the chavs, polishers, and Southrons have sunk in the last 70 years. There is no longer an England to save, even if the political elites would allow their trough to be taken away. Where once we had fighters and traditionalists, now all are hobbits – fat, content little creatures who will happily sell their birthright to the religion of peace and EU Marxists for a pot of frankly shitty gruel.
As to why, i know not. Those i know who want to stay in thrall to the EU tend to be standard Leftist idiots, who regard any kind of nationalism as Nazism; culturally-suicidal fools who would be the first to call for Muslims to have Sharia patrols and the right to stone all & sundry in England, because that’s tolerance and respect, yet would regard any real English culture as terribly vulgar and backward, the kind of dreadful nonsense people in the North go for. They are secular atheists all, even if they mumble approvingly into their Chardonnay about Christian architecture or the Bible – but fundamentally, they are, at best, glib Southrons and apple polishers, totally severed from the spirit; they have done very well for themselves, in the world.
4. i could not take their path. It seems my fate to be born at the tail-end of decaying empire, to live through the final disintegration of culture, the rise of the totalitarian state and then total war. If chronology is any guide, the war will begin in ten years, and destroy everything – imagine a Balkans-style civil war across Europe, as the sand peoples rise up against the white man; and, why, even the fat belly-patting Southrons in the nice little middle class suburbs, the content worldlings who vote for the EU and think Muslims jolly good chaps who do a nice Balti, even they will be slaughtered.
But by then, perhaps a meteor will destroy this whole planet, or the hundreds of tons of radioactive water flowing from Fukushima, every day, will settle the matter, and we can begin again from amoeba up.