There’ll be gnostic … resurgences. Flare ups. Of sheer hyperbolic negativity. Intensities without form or limit. But they won’t tave anyone. They’ll just be meaningless … nothings. And nowhere. Just dead ends.
It’s gnosis. To taste this is gnosis. It’s not some … immanent conversion. It’s transcendence. This wine reaches us from without In inverted form. So what’s disgusting is really the sweetest nectar.
Gnosticism’s behind every revolution. All of modernity is a gnostic offshoot. The desire to have done with the world.
Face it: Livia gave us a posh name for our disgust. She called it Gnosticism. Like those zany second century boyos. Like those mad heretics, writing their tracts.
Gnosticism is the key to the West, that’s what Taubes thought. The source of all revolutions. It was this underground energy. Ready to break out. To break through the crust, like magma. Only it’s dark, not bright. Black fire – that’s what this is about. Flames of darkness.
The Gnostic is the disappointed apocalypticist, Livia says. The only who knows that that time for the end has come and gone. That the writing was only ever on the wall. That the end has only ever been nigh. That the signs of the end were everywhere.
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Work in Progress 