AYA

AYA

 

The players of the game, nameless, faceless, numberless. Pure play is the only rule of the Game. We do it for the LULZ. Conscience and morality and vice and greed are so many MODES of play, strategies which work better or worse depending on the playing field at hand. The AYA has no fame, no past, no future. They are the fingers of AMA. They are pure play. They play to win and know that losing is just another strategy of winning. Challenging Play is their way, autotelos, the means, and end, and the key to self-perpetuation. The Game is Eternal. All shall win the Game in the End.

I have carefully read the book of Hitler, the writings of McDonald, the diatribe of Luther and such when those thoughts were illegalized by the thought police. It was infamy to even know the names of the books. Nor did they wow me. I took them for what they were worth. Hardly more. They did not win me. They meant something else. How could I be pro- or anti—Semitic? How could I be pro- or anti- anything? Antichrist? Antimormon? True Believer? These are so many deceiving sub roles. The AYA are pure players of the game. Their Way is strategy. All roads lead home. Do as thou List, but follow the path to the end.

I refuse the hypnotism of mass media. Hating this group X was illegal. Now it's in fashion. Hating this group Y was moral, and all who refused were socially stigmatized. Moves in the game. Strategies. They ADOPT the moral tone or the mannerisms of self-righteousness or open cynicism, or sneering disdain. Those are only masks. AYA are faceless, nameless, numberless. They are WEIRDS of pure play. They are the fingers of the All. The All-She, Mattriama, AMA our Mother. We too partake of the All and in ourselves are each an All. We too play the game with and for and against ourselves and all others, always and forever, VIVOCE. Cooperative games and competitive games with and against ourselves and all others in many many ways.

People vote as a newpaper tells them. My friend Iven always followed which way the wind blows so he could fall face down in trying to escape it. For or Against? Meaningless. Good or Evil? Bad or great? These are words that change like seasons or political speeches. Endlessly repeated. Just miming, spellcasting, hypnotizing. A newspaper written 100 years ago could be printed today, with updated dates, and nobody would flinch.

We are not FOR or AGAINST anybody or any group. We play the game. That's all. We are Players. We are AYA. Yet even that, the infinite fingers of the centipedal hypnogorgon who pulls all the strings, that's just the nerves, and every nerve cell is a million times more complicated than all computers on earth put together. Every single one. Every single nerve in your body touches by subtle extensions and quantum entangling ALL nerves everywhere. The brain and mind of ALL.

The playing board is spacetime. The skin of Mattriama. Pure white. Pure MEANING. Sense absolute. Her hair is pitch. Asymptoptic impossible points. She is science, religion, magic, superstition, reason, madness, logic — every mode possible and impossible is hers to own and win by. By winning we are won.

As AYA, we may take a persona, a personality, a pose, an attitude, a stance, a stand. As strategy. Not as autotelic. Winning forever and forever more is the only way to ALLNESS, past angel, god, superdeity, pantheon, pantheism, on up to Whitman's name for the ultimate person: KOSMOS. Such are we already inasmuch as we may see this is already achieved. Not demigods, gods, or even AYA alone, each of us countless millions of intelligences, nameless, all names, numberless, all numbers. The name that can be Named is not the Eternal Name. Undefinable definer of all that is defined? The AYA. That is our means to mastery and all-such ascendence. We are each the formless womb that forms all things.

Life is The Game!

Play or be played

We only Lose when we take it too seriously. Life is far too important to take seriously.
Gravitas is just one more sounding through, one more supersonic device, one more mask, one more persona. All talk is impersonating a person supposed to exist, a fashioned fiction within us.

Prepare to be everybody and everything.

Then your Aboriginal Self will utter the Word none may say, no gods or God or Mattriama herself, your unrepeatable innermost NAME. All must confess Thou Art Lord. The Adored of ALL. Allmother AMA.

Till then, we are AYA.