Satanism With a Side of Kimchi Part 2

Chapter 2 Satanism and a Side of Kimchi: My Love for Freedom, Disdain for Psychic Vampires, and Nappa Cabbage I had kimchi for the first time when I was going to college, I saw it at a Chinese buffet in Nyack, and I absolutely fell in love with the side dish. It was spicy, yet cold and it had a mouthful of flavor that begged for the merciful cooling of a quick sip of icy water. Kimchi is a Korean side dish made from the rotting and leftover cabbage that came at the end of the harvest. Historically, it is jarred in a rich compound of spices, peppers, and vinegar, and then buried in the ground for several months. Finally, it was dug up again, and served as a side dish for more contemporary Korean dishes, but mostly it was an appetizer to compliment meat dishes. I learned that kimchi was extremely versatile: I put it on nearly every sandwich I made: turkey, roast beef, even hot sandwiches like chicken patties, or hamburgers. If you have never tried kimchi, it is a great side dish, it compliments almost every style of cooking, from Italian to German, and it can go with almost anything, being very much like coleslaw. I now prefer it on turkey sandwiches with a little bit of mayonnaise and black pepper, just because I am a glutton for punishment and love heat. If you are wondering why I’m mentioning kimchi here in reference to a book on the subject of Satanism, and how it affected me, how does a Korean side dish fit into all of this? Truthfully, in most cases, it wouldn’t, but kimchi is quite an important part of my coming-of-age tale into Satanism. I love banana milk, I went to Korea town for the first time to try some before a big gay pride parade in Greenwich Village, and it was the Halloween parade, so everyone was dressed up in their best. Being a true believer of Halloween, I didn’t doll up as much, but I wore my Cannibal Corpse t-shirt, and a spiked collar. I must have looked like a freak, which was natural; it was Halloween after all, the most important holiday on the calendar for me. I was in college at the time, so I was in a gay awareness club, which I tended to drift towards if the Chess clubs didn’t have any interesting challenges. I loved Greenwich Village, it was so clean, on any other given day, obviously, but it was fun to just go shop-to-shop, and see all the sights of the parade. Giant floats with half-naked people went by as if it were Mardi-Gras on speed. Those Southern twinks really have nothing on the Greenwich crowd. Anyhow, before the big parade, we were all discussing our futures, the group and I had probably two semesters left, and it was time to leave the campus behind to either seek further education, for the majority of us, to discover ourselves in a dwindling job market, which is happily still dwindling today. Someone mentioned something about religion; apparently, we were discussing religion and homosexuality, which always came up together like peanut butter and jelly. I had already gone through every single religion known to man by now in my quest to fill some void left behind by a lackluster depression I was slowly wading away from, and seeing as Buddhism wasn’t working out, and Islam long left behind, I just looked down at my bowl of kimchi. I looked closely at what was left, and like those old ladies in Mexico that see the Christ image in a burnt tortilla, I saw the Baphomet sigil staring back through some noodle strands and wet cabbage. I looked up, and I knew then that I was a Satanist. Who cares, right? The most open-minded people in the world surrounded me. They didn’t seem to care, probably didn’t even register me admitting to it, and probably didn’t even register with me at the time. I was happily putting back a few beers, seeing as I wasn’t driving, and I was happily roaming around New York City barely coherent. I made out with several people that night, and after sobering up, drove home from the campus that night to a relative’s house where I was staying during college. The imagery of the bowl in my mind; I didn’t believe in coincidences, just absolutes, and although Carl Gustav Jung taught me that Man is a victim of circumstances, trapped in the ever-eluding meanings of symbols, I didn’t have to read deep into what the kimchi was telling me, I probably manipulated the kimchi to just look like an inverted pentagram. Maybe it was Lesser magic, maybe it was my heart telling me what I was so arrogantly ignoring, but I knew that I was a Satanist. This story may seem absurd, especially that it happened to me on Halloween, one of the most important days of the year for Satanists, but it was incredibly true, and I have not looked at kimchi the same way since. How many times can one admittedly come to Satanism, and stay? I’m an odd-case I suppose, because it still took me eight years later to accept the Left-Hand Path. I was enthused by the idea of getting married when I was very young, until that turned out to be an exceptionally dumb idea. One cannot live on the dreams of love, which are all for the progression of the species more than for your own personal happiness. See, I admire women, I admire men, but I love kimchi, or pizza, or eighty-inch high definition television screens. I love money, and technology, but I simply admire men and women, and the various uses that come from being in a steady sexual relationship with them. However, I no longer declare that I “love” my partner, and if they say they “love” me, I now dump them and move on. Not that I’m necessarily a prude, or an asshole, I make it soundly clear what the other will expect of a relationship with me, and I in-turn, accept the consequences of those terms. I mention this here, because I hate having to explain that I find love to be a fruitless endeavor, and I’m not saying that you can’t love someone, but I simply don’t, many feel the same way I do, and at least I’m honest, and I never cheat, no matter the situation. I can’t really cheat, because I’m gone from one before I’m even with another, and although this sounds raunchy, remember that I admit to being loyal to whoever I may be in a relationship with, just don’t expect it to last past a certain point. To quote a lovely cliché of one of my favorite authors: “Marriage is something that happens to other people.” and that is very much true, because I do not support marriages, but I’m not really rallying to have them dismantled, either. To be quite honest, I have more respect for the Japanese hipsters that get married to their anime pillows than I do you hapless ne’er-do-wells that run off to get married in a stained white-wedding dress and tuxedo t-shirt at some Las Vegas drive-thru wedding chapel. Let’s look at Satanism as a religion: a Satanist may believe that the authorities, especially those unseen powers that flow about and incidentally dictate every life and energy force on this earth, can be bended to their will. Greater Magic, which is purely using manipulation, mixed with intense concentration, and energy towards obtaining a proper goal that will benefit the Satanist in his day-to-day life. Satanism takes faith that you have the power to control the world around you, so that he then can attain a better outcome. Satanism isn’t about using earth-based white light magic, like mixing up potions of chamomile tea and whole-wheat crackers to relieve anal-retentive constipation, nor is it used to get in greater touch with some cosmic outlying metaphysical realm that exists in such white lighter religions; it is about using real-world tactics to obtain a real-world initiative. Lesser Magic is different: This comes from wishful thinking and blind luck. Here’s a great example: say you see someone you absolutely cannot stomach walking down the street to greet you, and you know that person is going to talk your ear off for three hours, minimum. Now, the white lighter would sigh, suck it up, and listen to this imbecile talk about his boring life. The Satanist may wish for the fool to fall flat on his face, busting his lips on the sidewalk, so that he would have to have his jaw wired shut. This is not typical of every Satanist, but if the hypothetical powers bend to his whim, then maybe that chatty Cathy will fall down, and let the Satanist continue to sip his espresso in peace. Let us segue into a discussion on the psychic vampire, so we can grasp the concept of opposition when it comes to Satanism. An Allusion to Psychic Vampires I’d like to pose a question to the reader: especially you, the one who downloaded this book to some fancy e-reader, or if you’re ghetto like I am, straight to your desktop. What makes you angry? A simple question I’m sure, and depending on who you are, obviously the question is going to seem almost jaded, because we’re all confused more than angry, yet our confusion may actually impose a feeling of anger. This may seem like circular reasoning: anger makes you confused, and you get confused from your anger. The question isn’t a loaded, nonsense question, because from how you answer yes or no to the next question: Do you wish you were angrier? The obvious answer would be that you want to be less angry, because less anger means less stress, and acceptance towards ideas you would normally dismiss. Anger comes from stress, aggravation in the home or workplace, from outside sources like other people who just bring out the worst in you, and the ways to avoid these daily stresses are next to impossible. I am not the self-help type, but I love to spin a cautionary yarn to those willing to give me the time. Imagine you’re talking to a levelheaded individual, one that’s somewhat interesting to you, but maybe has a different opinion, yet he can argue his point well without belittling your opposition. If you’re having a good day, hell, the best day of your life, you may not attribute it to the person’s views. Yet, you might not scream at them like a lunatic because the mortgage is due, and your wife is about to burst with your umpteenth child, and the IRS lost your tax return, so you’ll have to wait another four months until you finally get your menial return just so you can take a hot shower. Depending on your psyche, and just how charismatic people are, you may find yourself strung along by a psychic vampire. Whether you’re working in a cozy office, or whether you’re trying to stay alive at a factory job that pays you slave wage, where you are surrounded by fake alphas that are trying to make your life a living hell. Psychic vampires are those annoying wretched beings that come from all lifestyles; you know the kind: the social organizers, the employee of the month shams that tear away at your best day, and make you feel like shit for being yourself. Psychic vampires are those psychologically upsetting individuals that come into your life like the proverbial wrecking ball, and twerk you into submission with their lousy pundit views. These people root for the lobbyists. They cannot wait until the Chicago Cubs win the World Series; next year is always going to be their year, right? The only thing worst than a Psychic Vampire is a totalitarian dictator. They are fervent in making you and everyone around you feel like lethargic pieces of shit that are good for nothing. They exist at your home, your park, your job, and even your church. They are your best friends, and your worst enemies. They are the boss’s son who knows more about bong hits than six-month projections. They walk in file towards your destination, and always have a way of making you feel even worst when you’re at your lowest. I just saw a recent episode of Modern Family, a situated comedy on ABC that really should be the furthest thing removed from a discussion of Satanism. In this episode, Phil Dunfee and his father-in-law, Jake (the patriarch of the family) are dealing with two people that just always irk them. Yet in just a half-hour, and two well inter-connected plotlines, we see two forms of psychic vampirism enacted, which may seem funny from the safe perspective of the couch, but perhaps because we all know these two villains quite well. The one person is Phil’s rival at his real estate agency that just won the employee of the month medallion away from Phil who had held it for the longest of times. The medallion represents all of Phil’s career achievements; he respects the mediocrity of such an award, because he’s the typical humble goody two-shoes character. He of course suffers from the same criteria for the modern man who is goofy, nearly androgynous, and when sexual, his actions are cornball, almost man-child, so you grasp how a shiny object like a fake gold medallion, a neck-plaque, would mean so much to him. Yet this is Phil’s character, and I respect the whole transgression for aspiration in the workforce, no matter how pitiful they may seem. When Phil has to hand over this glorified award to his nemesis, it is with a little repulsion, as Phil’s “Psychic Vampire” has wounded him the worst way possible, by outdoing him, even though it was shamefully won off the sweaty back of Phil’s portfolio. The deathblow is dealt when Phil’s nemesis takes the idol that Phil holds so dear, and treasures so much, and the rival blatantly comes out and admits that he gave it to his wife last night wearing the medallion, describing how it was all sweaty from banging up against her rear in a sexual position. Phil, of course, is repulsed by this; his entire happy cheery dim-witted persona is changed to deeply suppressed anger. This aggressive psychic vampire, who feeds off the negative feedback of Phil, is a perfect example of how one rival can be nail in the coffin for your career, or your social life. Imagine having some douche bag you cannot avoid because of social convention that keeps hounding you, pushing you, making you feel like less and less of a person, albeit not in the malicious sense, but because they keep that competitive streak in you from shining through, and nullifying you from the race. At the end of the episode, Phil uses his adorable little niece Lily to exact some revenge. Despite the transcendental embarkation all the characters have gone through (Phil’s son, Luke saves his nemesis’s son from choking, even though it was actually Luke trying to choke his rival out because of a botched wrestling match at school) by having Lily climb up and get a piggyback ride. Then Phil pushes her head close to his (she has lice). This show, unlike the real world, shows just how much we all want to exact revenge on rivals, and get back at those annoying psychic vampires that come along and bring havoc into our perfect little worlds. Psychic vampires can have positive affects, by forcing us to compete, outsmarting our foes, and overcoming their sapping tethers, ruining our lives. In this scene, we all wish we could be Phil, giving the metaphorical middle finger to those who try to beat us down. The Satanist learns to overcome the psychic vampire by avoiding them at all costs, or by belittling them through criticism, and inspire more confidence in themselves. In the same episode, Phil’s father-in-law, Jay, deals with his own psychic vampire, but one that is not necessarily there in the daily grind. This more comical relief form of psychic vampirism is about being surrounded by that one individual that’s there to see you at your most wounded, and rubs it in deeper with their pudgy, dirty finger. The lovely coincidence that Jay’s psychic vampire is the father of Phil’s psychic vampire is great for telling rivalries in their most polar opposite forms. For example, the strong-headed, personal, in-your-face rival that never lets you get a victory, however large or small, and the less personal, passerby psychic vampire that is there to always rub your imperfections in your face. These psychic vampires are impersonal, because they are able to float right by without opposition. This episode proves time-and-again, that you cannot always befriend a psychic vampire, in-hopes that turning the other cheek, and being logical and smarter than they are, will help you exact the revenge you so rightfully deserve. Apparently, not everyone is going to be as intellectually sound as you are, or on the same level as you. Dealing with superior personalities may be easier for you than dealing with inferior personalities. Although they may not be quite as smart, or rather as open-minded to see your perspective on anything other than a bunch of bullshit that doesn’t belong in their realm of thought. Not everyone is as smart as you are, and you’re not always going to be the smartest person in the room, so you compromise, because you have no choice in the matter. You can compete, but you cannot win every battle that comes your way with displaying kindness. Kindness is a form of weakness, especially in the career game, because it allows for exceptions, rather than aptitudes, to shine through, so you may come out the short-end of the proverbial stick. Psychic vampires will use you for their personal gain, so it’s best to ignore them, and tear them down faster. You may not be able to see a psychic vampire, you may even be the victim of one right now, but you learn not to turn the other cheek, because you will be tethered and drained of your energy by these assholes for the rest of your life. I know that deep down, we can all indirectly be psychic vampires, and we should never apologize for being happy, and successful, because that’s the aim of all Satanists. Yet unlike the asshole psychic vampire that rubs every error in your face, who tries to break you down as a human being, the Satanist does not look to personally attack the weak-minded, but rather shows indifference and ignores them unless they become a threat to the said Satanist. Isolationism from morons is the dream of all Satanists, and bears a great measure of weight in a world full of arrogant bastards that just want to eat you alive in the rat race. The Satanist can compromise, and keep a calm persona for so long, but the bullshit can pile higher than one’s patience, and can snap. Most people snap by expelling energy like yelling, screaming, tearing out their hair, even crying a few tears. The aged Satanist knows to use emotions in a constructive way, not just to vent and become frustrated by the ineptitudes of those around him. They turn that anger into a force for working to outdo, outlive, and out-earn their enemies. They perform rituals to better themselves, and worsen their opponents. They don’t sweat the small stuff, because the modern Satanist knows that these overgrown whining babies with the “me, me, me” syndrome of thinking they’re supposed to be loved by everyone else is fraudulent, dangerous thinking. Satanists try not to waste energy on those so apt to drain them. Instead, they exact revenge in the more focused, more accurate, more stress-relieving action of evocation in their ritual chamber, where they vent their in a healthy, productive way. Avoiding and releasing oneself from the grip of psychic vampires is such a strong component to the philosophy of Satanism, it is one of the nine Satanic Statements found in the Satanic Bible, and it is useful information that can let anyone live a more fulfilling life. Instead of holding anger in, let it out through outwitting the imbeciles that will do nothing but bring you down to their septic level. Remember: outlive your foes, out-earn your rivals, and smile as their ships sink deep down in the fathoms of their own mediocrity. *** I love when the snow melts from the mountaintops, and the secret world of the tree canopies begins to reveal itself to the world. The beauty of watching the inkling of Spring is such an incredible feeling of elation, that it’s impossible to stay stressed at sound of the seldom bird chirp, or the soft pillow drop of a mound of snow to the swollen Earth. I trudged through the mushy white marshmallows, following the paw prints of hares that play blissfully in the snow, harrowing in a game of love to bring into fruition the new heirs of hallowed ground. They run one last lap around the burrow; this game of courtship ends, as they enter the hole, to curl up in exaltation until the arrival of spring. I admire the blue heron overhead that comes into stand on an icy sheet across the pond; it pecks for a moment at the glass sheet, the frozen fish still trapped in their time capsule underneath. It ignores me as it makes a soft noise with its spear-like beak, then flies off again without a care in the world. The incomparable beast has a wingspan that shadows me like a thunderbird of ancient lore. I do not need a perilous journey like that of Lewis and Clark to make my own discoveries, for the American frontier lies right in my backyard. The natural world is the friend of every Satanist, it allows for a reoccurrence of that primal instinct, and Natural Order. Food webs, alpha and omega, the pecking order of life, it is not that we are so-much removed from the beasts, but how much of the beast we try to suppress. The natural world is beautiful, even the spilling of blood for the strong to survive and carry one, it is a glorious painting of macabre mixed with beauty. It is balance, and like all things in life, there must be a balance. Nature is a beast in itself: it can destroy or it can coddle, either way, it’s unavoidable. Satanism revolves around the natural world, because we are nothing more than animals. We try to dispel the myth of divine touch, for humans are not any of any greater importance than the ameba that performs mitosis in order to carry on its species. I have desires, you have desires, and we either fulfill them, or repress them, but wouldn’t one say that the sin is simply having the notion to sin? Sinning is a vital part of life, because sin allows for survival in all aspects of conflict. We use sex as a weapon, weapons as sex, and our voices to deceive one-another. We give false praise in order to gain manipulation of our co-workers, and, asides from loved ones, we would better to shit on one-another than to actually help to a complete stranger. Well, unless we expect some kind of compensation in return. Today, our time is money, we expect payment for our mass to move from counter-to-counter, and we form very animalistic traits, such as biting the hand that feeds. We are still vaguely wild, because we always strive to tackle every single obstacle with brute force, and a pittance of engineering. We expect to be paid for work we barely do, and it is a joke just what that pay consists of every week or bi-week. We have very little loyalty, no matter how much we try to make ourselves believe we care about anyone outside our lineage, because it is naturally impossible to care for everyone all the time. I am not trying to say humans are heartless, that would be ignorant, but I would say individually, we tend not to care as much as the groupthink that comes from the people we associate with and moral dignity comes from wanting acceptance from these set groups. Here’s an example: I enjoy Asian culture, especially Japan and Korea. I love the cuisine, the entertainment, and the history of Japan. I like certain anime, and I love the future-tech that lights up a Tokyo skyline at night. The world of neon that overshadows the breezy shores is incredible. I also admire the architecture that goes into their buildings; they look so incredible, it’s impossible not to admire the feat of human engineering that was once a staple of American industry. I’m a capitalist after all, and I am not ashamed to admit it here. However, I wouldn’t say that Asian culture is necessarily my culture, no matter how much I may admire the history. Theoretically, if it came down to another war with Japan, I would say bomb them all to Hell, because I’m American, and it is deep-routed in me, no matter how much I’d try to suppress it, for seeing my country, my people succeed. That animalistic tendency of Us versus Them is so a part of our nature, it is nearly impossible to fight. Back to kimchi for a moment: When I was working for a small online magazine a few years back, it was more a group project between friends that was barely taking off the ground. We would always go to a Chinese buffet every Tuesday, and hook up to the wi-fi, while working and eating all we could stomach. I would usually get General Tso’s chicken, which to me, is the pinnacle of chicken. So much flavor, and steamed broccoli that adds enough of a rough texture and pissy flavor, it sours the sweet perfectly. My side was always kimchi; it became my fallback, because I’m very difficult to change once I’ve fallen into a routine. Therefore, these friends (who I prefer to keep anonymous here) and I would be online building this website, with no aim. We were still freshmen in college at the time, and were still lugging around laptops, because the tablet revolution didn’t quite happen yet. Most discussions would be about how to appeal to the primary audience (college and high school-aged filmmakers) because the material was simple: definitions of key terms in the movie-making process, along with video that would highlight the best of amateur filmmaking to a broad audience, done by those who were amateurs themselves (e.g., the five of us). We were still learning, and had little experience ourselves, but the idea that we could turn this website (which we eventually nipped in the bud before we even launched) into a serious traffic source, which would run itself by the end of the year. We didn’t know what we were doing, but I always see it as positive failure. Positive failure is a common occurrence we as a society try to ignore. Failure is something we never attribute as a good thing, but when it came to those weekly meetings off-campus for this extracurricular project, were some of the best learning experiences. We were five guys that had different levels of knowledge and experience on filmmaking, and its many levels from pre-production, until a final product had been rendered or rasterizing into High-Def video, or an MPEG. This vague knowledge, mostly here-say was okay for making decent video, even above-par audio. Yet we didn’t really know how to build websites, nor did we realize that people wouldn’t just come to us, an every attempt to gain an audience without the right path or the right tools was a stake through the heart of our dying project. Instead of being semi-successful, pulling in an easy income to help fund and raise awareness of our site, we all went our separate ways, and figured the risk was not worth the reward. I would move the tidbits of kimchi around with my chopsticks, occasionally slurping up a bit of the cool heat into my mouth, followed by a quick sip from some ice tea to cool it a bit, which never worked. I learned that failure was a grand accomplishment, because I learned how not to form a website, how not to produce video that wouldn’t appeal to a niche audience, and most importantly: I learned how to put a ton of effort into something I truly loved, and fall flat on my face in failure after the fact. Yet, I also learned never to stop loving my passion. You see, it wasn’t my love for video production that made me the failure, but the lack of establishing a baseline idea to have succeeded with the original plan. It was half-cracked ideas that led to the downfall. Granted we were young, still learning about the process in the studio and labs, but our failures (at least for me) became my greatest asset. See, I have been a failure for a good long while, but I never failed at something the same way twice. I always discovered new, incredibly ridiculous ways to fail, and I’ve learned to be a stronger winner because of it…or just an awesome failure. Positive failing for me came from doing something I love, and obliterating any chance of success, because of one major flaw, or several small flaws, or not appealing to the proper market. As a Satanist, I didn’t take rejection with a grain of salt, I got pissed off, but I learned to harness the power of frustration into positive reinforcement, and for every failure, I coupled with success. I’m a strange egg when it comes to failure: the same year I failed ninth grade in high school, was the very same year I was chose to represent my high school as a wreath layer in Washington D.C.’s Arlington National Cemetery, at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. This is perhaps, even today my greatest achievement, because I am truly patriotic, and it felt so good to have been chose for such a distinct honor. Even though I failed the ninth grade, I had a grand experience that taught me more about humanity, and a bit about myself than I ever had before in my lifetime. Do I remember exactly what I learned in high school that day? A bit, but it doesn’t cement itself as deep as that year I was privileged with laying a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown soldiers, and touring Arlington National Cemetery. I’m might also be the only Satanist to have ever such an honor bestowed upon me, which makes me feel even that much more patriotic. So out of great failure, comes great success, or at least the knowledge of failure that forces another route toward success. I never worried about failure, because the fear of failure would only stifle the inevitability of success. So I never worried, and I never stressed, because if I were to fail, I would do so because I clearly didn’t have the tenacity to succeed at the task at hand, or I was ill-prepared. I would never fail because I feared the project, or because it was a possibility, I did not hold fear in a test, but put the fear of those around me with how cool I was after taking the test, and blowing the competition out of the proverbial water. I’ve grown smarter, vicious, and cutthroat to competitors, because I show no mercy in any fields of competition. I’m not a monster, I am a beast, and I will out sell, out flank, and outwit my opposition, because I’ve failed too many times, and that has built an exterior that is tough to crack. The likes of young professionals, are like lamb to the slaughter for an individual who has been through the wringer. Positive failure is truly the best thing to happen to you: and its best that it does happen when you’re young and it helps to have a buffet with a big hulking side of kimchi. In conclusion, throughout one’s life, there are friends, foes, fights, failures, and successes, on grand and small levels. One who harnesses the psychological power of Lesser and Greater Magic, may not always succeed, but they will have the confidence to carry on, and that is at times a stronger motivation than simply getting your way all the time, every time. Success (today) can be measured by the lack of calluses on one’s hands and feet, and more on how expensive their manicure/pedicure cost them on a weekly basis. Innovation comes from using technology that already exists, and tweaking that technology faster than the other person, and hoping you aren’t sued by a patent filed in 1972. Remember, when everything fails, and the world seems to be crumbling down on top of you, it probably is, but that’s not necessarily the worst thing that could happen. Maybe I’m still a little bit Taoist on this subject, but I think that failure is the best medicine for a big head.