#Primordial soup in the primordial pouch

[higgsfigs]

Did I share my kitty that is very gender?

They worked HARD for that mane!!

[cassiopeiathe1st]

so as a biology major, here's some things i've been chewing on after reading the unwanted guest. this post is brought to you by the part of my brain that saw the 7th's hereditary blood cancer and thought ok but what KIND of cancer is that.

the phrasing of "permeability of the soul" makes me think of semipermeable membranes and diffusion. diffusion is a passive process -- our molecules, when left to their own devices, want to be everywhere because entropy, but the semipermeable membranes that make up cells organelles etc make life possible by keeping things organized. this dividing & filtering process is required to keep things in place. with me so far?

to me, this concept of permeability emphasizes that souls are objects with boundaries. there's a line somewhere, however blurry (clearly very very blurry) or porous, that divides self & other, and! and!! that line only exists because it is somehow constructed, maintained, enforced. see: ianthe working so hard to convince herself/pal/the hypothetical audience of this play she's putting on that she's just ianthe with no babs mixed in. or john's ritual of retelling his story to alecto/harrow in NTN. something something being the unreliable narrator of your own identity.

palamedes calls the process that merges him and camilla to give us paul grand lysis vs. the "petty", incomplete lysis of eightfold word lyctorhood. lysis = the disintegration of a cell by rupture of the cell wall or membrane. the boundaries of their souls are sliced open so their contents can be poured out & mixed together to make someone new. but even in conventional lyctorhood, there's some kind of exchange of whatever material makes up the soul between cavalier & necromancer. as our boy tells ianthe at the end of the unwanted guest,

This is the real truth of Lyctorhood, Ianthe--it's not some bloodless swapping-out of batteries. It's grafting; transplantation. When you absorbed Naberius Tern's soul, you didn't swallow a diamond. You swallowed a piece of meat...and the longer you digest that meat, the more its proteins and lipids and molecules mix in with yours, until you can't tell them apart anymore.

idk where i'm even going with all of this, i'm just rotating it in my head, but:

tamsyn muir is so precise with her necromancy jargon & anatomical terms that i feel like there's definitely meaning to be found in the imagery here. there is poetry in biology, the universe is made of stories not of atoms, etc etc

it turns out lysis is also the title of a dialogue of plato on "the true nature of loving friendship," so if any classics enjoyers have thoughts on that connection i would love to hear them!

if lyctorhood is transplantation, is it possible for that transplant to be rejected? can the graft refuse to take?

souls are contained within their edges not unlike how a cell membrane contains its cytoplasm. or how a capri sun pouch contains its juice. and lyctors slurp that shit up and digest it baby

why choose to link the soul so closely with water? (the river, bubbles, currents & waves in the river, nona saying the water of the river "doesn't want to touch us.") contents of souls = liquid in the same way that the river is a liquid??? the river = spirit version of the primordial soup???

dulcinea refers to the river having two shores, not just a generic "shore", so it sounds like they're different in some meaningful way. but that may be conditional on what happens in alecto ("if this ends well you'll find that out")? is the point of the river the river itself, or is the point of the river to separate those two places?

[ortly]

just love any term that goes primordial _____. Primordial pouch. Primordial soup. Primordial love primordial joy primordial peace

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Lunar: I made a new recipe! Chicken soup! The broth is mostly blood!

Blood Moon: But I’m already getting so fat.

Lunar: Nope! That’s actually normal! It’s called a primordial pouch and most cats have it.

Blood Moon: …I’m really not a cat.

Lunar, unphased: Do you really expect me to believe that?

Blood Moon: Okay.

[doyouremem8erme]

they call it the primordial pouch because its full of the primordial soup. thi s is true i am a sciencer

[totallynotinacult]

The primordial pouch is full of primordial soup

[wetlittlefreak]

they call it the primordial pouch bc its full of soup

[sundownsquad]

Alright, so no primordial pouch (a shame) but it does make me wonder a bunch of things about baby-baby ottas. How small are they when they're first born? Do they come out and immediately know how to stand, like a horse? Or do they have a small, helpless stage as newborns where their eyes and ears are closed? Do they have to learn to walk and play and groom themselves? Do they go through a chubby, round "bumper car" stage?

Curse you for making me think about your boys becoming otta foster parents and bottle feeding gangly, scrungly little wee baby ottas.

@gaeasun @gokyacetakal Answering everyone's asks here since they're all Otta related! <3 So here's answers to all the questions!

How small are they as newborns?: Take a peek at the Growth Chart on the Ottabura fact sheets and that will give you a good visual on their size. But newborns would be around 8–10 inches at the shoulder if they could stand.

Can they stand immediately?: No, it takes a couple of days before they start getting on their feet. But once they're up they build strength quickly.

Are their eyes and ears closed?: Nope, they can hear and open their eyes right after birth. However, they sleep a ton for those first couple of days so it could give the appearance that they can't.

Do they go through a chubby, round, "bumper car" stage?: A little bit, yes. That first week they still have lots of baby fat so they're very round and are teetering around quite a bit as they figure out their legs. Their tails are too long to stick straight up like a kitten's would, but the baby ottas would run into their siblings enough to qualify as bumper cars I think. Lol

Bottle feeding: Knox bought the ottas when they were two weeks old, so they were already old enough to be eating solid food. So the squad didn't bottle feed them (though that would have been very endearing, I agree), but they were definitely down there mashing up rehydrated veggies and spuds and throwing it together with some fish to create the baby food that they all dubbed "otta soup".

Primordial pouch: The hilarious thing about primordial pouches is they aren't actually a pouch. The term refers to the loose bit of skin/fat cats have that runs between their lower abdomen and back legs. The pouch marsupials (kangaroos, wombats, etc.) have is called a marsupium and is quite different. So the term primordial pouch I think refers to it being a pouch for fat storage. Still a very confusing term, though. Lol As for ottas, they actually don't collect things like ferrets or otters might. They are a migratory, pack-based species, so they don't hang out in the same area for long in the wild. Sundown's ottas have their little collection of toys and things since they live in the same place full-time, but otherwise they don't hoard or stash things away.

How furry/fluffy are the ottas? Ottas are covered head-to-toe in short, dense fur. It looks identical to a river otter's fur. When dry, the fur lays flat and is very soft to the touch. When wet, the fur tends to gather in little narrow bunches until it dries out. One unique thing about their fur, though, is the oil in their coats that makes them waterproof (and blasterproof) binds very tightly to the hair, so they don't feel oily at all when you touch them. Instead, it just feels like they're using some incredible product/conditioner on their coats because of how smooth and shiny it is. Lol

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 42: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A talisman depicting a forgotten deity from a bygone era. If you held to the ear, the bearer can hear faint murmurings.

A rudimentary tripwire consisting of a length of thin string wrapped around two small sharpened, wooden stakes along with a length of tiny, ash-darkened, copper bells that can be wrapped around the tripwire. The trap can cover an area five feet in length.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Mudder's Milk” on its lid. The keg is filled with a batch of stout beer so dark, dense and filling that it could pass for a soup in bad lighting. The beverage has all the proteins, vitamins and carbs of a full course of your grandmother's best turkey dinner plus 15% alcohol. The keg contains enough beer to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A map of the local tavern, showing several levels of basement below it. The last three levels are crossed out and "don't go here" is written in pencil.

A single black envelop upon which is a single silver glyph, lightly afire. You do not recognize the language, nor even the alphabet of the burning symbol. Regardless, while touching the mysterious inscription you are instinctively aware of its meaning, as if the words were branded with eldritch fire directly on the grey matter of your soft humanoid brain; "VACATION APPROVED”. You know in your mind exactly what it says. You wish you did not know. If you are able to ken the ancient eldritch script of the elder primordial beings from before recorded time, you are able to understand that the note was written by an unknown number of entities known as “Station Management”.

A sheet of parchment with a black handprint and the words "We Know" written underneath it.

A lustrous black flask inlaid with a silver skull pattern. It is plugged with a skull-shaped stopper with reflective red eyes. To complete its menacing appearance, the eyes glow slightly in dim light. Knowledgeable PC's can determine that the viscous green fluid the flask contains is actually an antivenin for the treatment of giant spider bites.

A clean steel sap spigot that can be rammed into a tree in order to allow it to pour forth the sap inside.

A silver chain on which hangs a polished silver bell the size of a thimble. At one point in the bearer's life, the bell will ring three times, producing three bursts of silvery sound with a brief silence after each. The vibrations that shiver through the bearer's body will seem much too strong to have been produced by such a tiny clapper. This squared trio of ringing heralds that great danger will soon befall the bearer from which he is unlikely to survive.

A painting of gnolls gambling with playing cards.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A talisman depicting a forgotten deity from a bygone era. If you held to the ear, the bearer can hear faint murmurings.

A rudimentary tripwire consisting of a length of thin string wrapped around two small sharpened, wooden stakes along with a length of tiny, ash-darkened, copper bells that can be wrapped around the tripwire. The trap can cover an area five feet in length.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Mudder's Milk” on its lid. The keg is filled with a batch of stout beer so dark, dense and filling that it could pass for a soup in bad lighting. The beverage has all the proteins, vitamins and carbs of a full course of your grandmother's best turkey dinner plus 15% alcohol. The keg contains enough beer to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A map of the local tavern, showing several levels of basement below it. The last three levels are crossed out and "don't go here" is written in pencil.

A single black envelop upon which is a single silver glyph, lightly afire. You do not recognize the language, nor even the alphabet of the burning symbol. Regardless, while touching the mysterious inscription you are instinctively aware of its meaning, as if the words were branded with eldritch fire directly on the grey matter of your soft humanoid brain; "VACATION APPROVED”. You know in your mind exactly what it says. You wish you did not know. If you are able to ken the ancient eldritch script of the elder primordial beings from before recorded time, you are able to understand that the note was written by an unknown number of entities known as “Station Management”.

A sheet of parchment with a black handprint and the words "We Know" written underneath it.

A lustrous black flask inlaid with a silver skull pattern. It is plugged with a skull-shaped stopper with reflective red eyes. To complete its menacing appearance, the eyes glow slightly in dim light. Knowledgeable PC's can determine that the viscous green fluid the flask contains is actually an antivenin for the treatment of giant spider bites.

A clean steel sap spigot that can be rammed into a tree in order to allow it to pour forth the sap inside.

A silver chain on which hangs a polished silver bell the size of a thimble. At one point in the bearer's life, the bell will ring three times, producing three bursts of silvery sound with a brief silence after each. The vibrations that shiver through the bearer's body will seem much too strong to have been produced by such a tiny clapper. This squared trio of ringing heralds that great danger will soon befall the bearer from which he is unlikely to survive.

A painting of gnolls gambling with playing cards.

A carved stone plate with horrifying pictographic symbols etched into it.

An unremarkable silver coin whose faces sport two expressions. One face is joyfully exuberant, and the other is depressingly dour.

A deck of playing cards that will always deal the worst possible hands to all players.

A simple silver key with “Guest Room” etched finely on the handle.

A pouch of very small bones that can be fitted together to form a strange, highly complex and obviously occult symbol.

A small hourglass holding enough sand to mark the passage of one minute. The bases are made from obsidian flecked with gold and carved to resemble a long-fingered hand holding the hourglass at each end. The glass itself is made from fine crystal and the sand inside is red.

A small dark rock (Two inches in diameter) that was naturally formed into the shape of a demonic creature with bat wings folded around its body. It is semi-translucent with a dark center that sometimes seems to move. Occasionally it seems to whisper. If one listens closely, the whisper can be understood, but it is a foul and evil entreaty to do some horrible act. A bearer who chooses to obey these instructions, never feel remorse or guilt during or after carrying out the horribly despicable and particularly sadistic actions. Should a bearer who performs evil deeds at the stone’s bequest lose the rock or stops carrying it on his person, the awareness, guilt and shame of his evil deeds comes back to him all at once and he is thrown into deep despair.

A silver hand mirror ornately engraved on both sides; one side bears a frowning mask, while the opposite bears a smiling one.  There doesn't appear to be an actual mirrored surface, despite its shape.

A figurine made of twisted fragments of copper wire. It is in the shape of a bird-headed human and although it seems to be many hundreds of years old. Extremely knowledgeable PC’s are able to determine that it is in fact a fake that has been aged to appear antique. Nevertheless, it will still fool anybody who is not an expert on the art of the period. Its metal value is only a handful of copper but it can be sold for a good deal more to the right (i.e. uninformed) buyer.

A walking stick, shod with silver and with the head of an eagle as its handle. The eagle’s head once had two garnets for eyes but these have long since become mislaid. If the head is grasped firmly and unscrewed, it will reveal a long but thin container which can be used to store liquor.

A bulbous flask of opaque white glass filled with a slightly syrupy fluid that’s a deep, warm golden color, almost metallic looking.

A mask bearing a dread visage crafted of wrought iron and set, is perpetually set with a sneering saturnine face.

A pair of goggles with hexagonal mineral lenses of a sharp yellow hue, secured in bronze frames, with a black leather strap that feels slightly scaly and slimy. They give off a faint odor of rotten eggs if sniffed directly.

A dagger sized scabbard containing strips of natural sea sponges on its interior. By carefully pouring a dose of poison into the empty scabbard (An action equivalent to attacking), the bearer can saturate the sponges with the toxin, which keeps it viable and wet for up to four hours. When a dagger is drawn from the sheath, it is automatically envenomed as if the liquid was applied directly. The bearer can also pour holy water or flammable oil into the sheath but acids will destroy the sponges. This kind of item is usually illegal in areas that outlaw poison.

A large mummified paw of long dead beast. Dried blood stains the fur around the petrified claws which are still razor sharp.

A deep violet sash made of silk adorned with gold embroidery of imps and succubi dancing with each other.

A small metallic whistle with a single blowhole. The pipe is divided into a number of twisted and interlocking tubes, with many holes for the air to exit. This strange configuration produces a cacophonous mess of simultaneous sounds when blown.

A matching shaker set of celestial salt and abyssal pepper.

A hooded lantern that is painted rather intricately with a house cat motif depicting cats playing in different poses. It’s mostly painted in whites and pinks, and it has small scuff marks on one side.

A delicate bracelet, carved out of lapis lazuli, featuring the initials XER on the interior facing.

A dark leather and silk monstrous mask with jet eyes.

A jangling bracelet of tiny golden bells and fine-toothed cogs on crimson silk rope. It is suited to a small wrist interested in intricate mechanisms.

A glass jar containing a heart that continues to beat.

A plain-looking wooden bowl of water, which remains unnaturally still while inside it. Looking at one’s reflection in the water shows an idealized version of oneself, in accordance to the viewer’s ideals. Perhaps by lowering one’s head into the bowl for long enough, one can gain insight into how to become the self seen in the bowl.

A silver oak leaf cloak clasp, edged and highlighted with gold.

An ancient drinking horn crafted from some extinct beast. Those who drink from it have dreams of being a huge predator roaming unchallenged through a prehistoric landscape.

A detailed sketch of a cross section of a brain, with a long foreign object being inserted through the front. Labelled fig 2: proper extraction positioning.

A bunch of scrapped papers that, if unfolded, reveal badly written poems describing the writer's deep love for a womanly shaped rock existing in a nearby forest.

A heavy copper belt buckle resembling an axe head.

A wistful portrait of a singular dark mountain on a broad plain, trees covering the top third of it and nowhere else, far higher than trees ever normally grow on a mountain. The middle of the mountain sports two large overhangs of rock above deep depressions, not quite caves. A stream flows down the bottom third of the mountain, splitting its flow around an overhang that shelters a massive cavern entrance that goes who knows how deep.

An aged obsidian fruit knife with bronze handle.

A piece of exotic wood, carved to look like a quill, with a gold tip. Its purpose is obviously ceremonial and no doubt used for signing important decrees or documents, as it is awkward to write with.

A silver and brass mirror with lewd designs hidden around the frame.

A gilded oil lamp with ornate scrollwork cutouts of a warrior, and an evil sorcerer, meant to cast shadows on the wall in their shape.

A blood red mask made from carefully sculpted bone, shaped to look like the face of a grinning demon.

A fist sized piece of jagged garnet. The deep crimson and maroon gemstone pulses faintly and smells of blood.

A lyre crafted from wood from the vale of shadows that emits a slight ringing at all times and a subtle glow of green when it is played.

A leather pouch containing dozens of petrified raven's claws with the talons splayed outwards. If scattered across an area the stony claws function as caltrops in every respect.

An old copper door knocker fashioned to resemble the face of an eldritch creature. It is always cold to the touch.  

A two-foot-long wooden rod bearing a silver wolf’s-head at the tip, and its length is inscribed with moon-sigils.

A small, masterfully crafted toy carriage made of stained black walnut complete with leather driver's seat and interior upholstered in crushed velvet. Anyone who stops to admire the detail of the model in detail has the urge to break one of the wheels, first starting as a fleeting thought but gradually grows to consume their thoughts causing insomnia the longer they resist the urge. The wheel is instantly repaired any time the toy goes unnoticed.

A crimson monkey skull weighing four pounds, carved entirely from blood garnet. An aura of feral sentience draws your gaze to its empty eye sockets.

A rolled scroll on which was hastily scribbled hymn, full of zeal. It says that it is only in rapturous frenzy that the spirit exhibits grace. At this moment, we are freed from doubt, acting only in accordance with the divine, immaculate will.

An ornate token from an opulent land. When held, one feels aided by forces paid for dearly. Surely, no cost is too high for triumph?

An inflamed gland that's little more than an engorged, muscular lump, radiating heat. The repellent hunk of flesh pulses with a warm, wet heat like an exhaled breath. The gland's presence consumes the senses. One's head begins to ache with a feverish intensity the longer it is held.

A scalpel with a wide blade, etched with a diagram of a human body on each side. One side features a chart of the circulatory system, and the other a layout of the muscles and tendons.

A glass disk that depict constellations.

A votive candle holder in the shape of a lighthouse.

A jawbone from a mammalian beast, a handspan in length with dozens of tiny needle-like teeth arranged like a pincushion

A surprisingly light, cobalt blue, metal cube the length of a hand. The many holes on its surface appear to resemble stars in the night sky.

A small sea chest, locked securely. The key is probably somewhere close by. Inside are a dozen glass bottles containing extremely rare and valuable spices. Unfortunately, they are so old as to be unfit for any purpose, and only identifiable by their labels.

A small, cork-stoppered crystal bottle with a disproportionately low and fat belly and slender neck containing a ruby colored liquid with an overwhelming odor of citrus. Tasting the liquid brings forth visions of standing atop a pyramid in a desert land, overlooking a sprawling city on a broad river flanked by irrigated farms.

A thumb-sized bronze horned owl. When the head is turned clockwise three full rotations, it flaps its wings and makes hooting noises as the head rotates back.

A soapstone dragon turtle paperweight with a tiny flag on its back that blows in whatever direction the wind is currently blowing in outdoors.

An unfinished, highly complex nautical knot made with a length of ship's line.

A horse-shaped bottle, made of iron, with eagles of gold and genuine lapis lazuli as inlays.

A clay piece with a drawing of a woman and baby standing next to a solider in uniform.

A pouch of small medicinal vials labelled with different names, with a handwritten note detailing dosages and urgency in delivery.

A letter addressed from an orphanage, informing the the recipient that they believe they've located their child, who was believed dead after a prolonged siege. They are asking the dead person to arrive as soon as possible, as dwindling budgets are forcing them to send their older children to work houses.

A pottery vase decorated with images of a foot race.

A glass eye with an azurite iris and obsidian pupil.

A one gallon cask of Seabeast Poison, an alcoholic beverage found mostly in coastal taverns. This mixture is almost black with a white, frothy foam on top. It's said the original recipe included venom from the poison sacs of a rare sea creature. The exact creature varies from tale to tale and the modern recipe surely doesn't include this venom.... Right?

An engraved geode that has been split apart into two equal halves. A labyrinth is carved into the rock's rough exterior and glows with a faint light.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

A strange wand that is visually translucent, but when held closely, one can hear the sound of a light spring rain.

A glass figurine of a unicorn with a chalcedony horn.

A pair of pearl earrings held in eagle claw settings.

A humorous ensorcelled cartoon strip about Cernuous Cedric the slug-about-town, a languorous libertine known for his lechery, taste for strong drink, and allergy to any form of labor. The strip speaks and animates when read, telling the story of one of Cedric’s disastrous affairs with the husband of Mordiggia, the Charnel Goddess.

An amber belt buckle with knot pattern.

An ancient hieroglyphic tablet made out of some type of reflective metal that can float in water and makes a strange echoing hollow sound when struck.

A small glass bulb that gives off a bit of bluish light when touched. The light it shines counts as moonlight for the purpose of revealing things.

A cherry wood mandolin with strings of different colors. Each note played on this mandolin blends euphoniously with the notes played before it, forming a pleasing melody regardless of which strings are plucked.

A beaten copper death mask with garnet eyes.

A small statue of a great old one carved from an unknown type of greenish stone.

A copper serving pot edged and highlighted with silver depicting the labors of a famous hero.

A hardy wine bottle that is completely opaque and holds a strong, deep red, fruity alcohol.

A simple leather pouch that has several charred humanoid bones in it and a small dusting of ashes. There is no smell of smoke though, so they must be quite old.

A pure white face mask with pewter trim around its edges. It is sculpted into what could be called a bird head with an unusually short beak, also covered in pewter, but with delicate filigree.

A large blue banner decorated with a flaring yellow crest and mounted on the end of a ten foot brass pole. It is meant to be the standard used to keep the morale of the troops high as its valiantly held aloft.

A large ceramic jar covered in silver leaf.

A brass candelabra etched with filigree pattern.

A bar of rough soap made from ground pumice, and a little bit goes a long way. Light gray in color, it scrubs off trail dust, sweat, and blood with equal ease, leaving behind a clean, slightly dusty scent.

A tiny dead sparrow, wrapped delicately in giant green leaves.

A four inch long, plain, pocket pen carved from giant's tooth enamel, tipped with a gold-vanadium nib, and silver cap.

An item that appears at first glance to be no more than a simple burlap doll with no hair or clothes in the shape of humanoid. The doll's wicked grin and black sapphire eyes tell keen observers a different tale.

A heavy brass torc ending in clenched fists.

A copper door knocker of a celestial with twin amber eyes.

A tin bucket without a label, filled with what appears to be loose teeth. A closer look confirms the contents: dozens of molars, bicuspids, incisors, canines. Human teeth. Enough to fill at least five or six mouths. Resting on top of the pile is a rusted pair of iron pliers.

A swirly mahogany wand that changes to a different color every night at midnight.

Innocent Lockpicks: A set of nondescript masterwork thieves' tools coated in a matte black lacquer, that seems brittle enough to break. They are favored by spies and thieves that cannot afford to be caught with the tools of their trade. As an action equivalent to drawing a weapon, the bearer can break the brittle coating of the tools, causing them to dissolve into a puff of smoke, destroying the evidence of any wrongdoing. Because of their fragile nature these tools have a chance of breaking. If the bearer rolls a natural 1 while using the tools, there is a 25% chance that the tools snaps and dissolves in his hands. The item's properties are wholly mundane and do not register as magical.

[h4ckedfoxboyg4mma]

Can I touch your primordial pouch?

yes just be prepared for my primordial soup 😳

[angryautodidact19]

Shit Borges I used to be a bouncer at a night club in Heston Service Station. Every Saturday night we would get all the major execs from the paper company in Heston proper come down and have a small bacchanalian get together. They would have been really decadent if they had the money, but all they could afford was computer dusting gas- difluoroethane or tetrafluoroethane I believe. They would huff it by the large fibreglass statue we had in the centre of club, the one of Eric Hobsbaum that weeped Prosecco when you kicked it in the balls. One night, the very night I stopped being a bouncer coincidentally, one of the execs had started to damage the leftist historian’s pouch really rather severely in an attempt to get enough free alcohol to sell it to his mates. I had to ask him to pay for the statue or leave. It was then I discovered to my shock that this would be the last time they would be coming here, as the Heston branch was closing down, and all the jobs being moved to Bahrain. As I said it had probably not been wise to make these trips to the service station a regular thing, he blew air duster into my face, and something amazing happened. I realised I had found what the writer Jorge Luis Borges referred to as “The Aleph”, and Gottfried Wilhelm Liebnitz “The Monad” the discovery that reveals the true nature of the universe, and allows the user to experience all of existence at once. The computer cleaner I had Inhaled had allowed me to reach the god spot in my brain, and I at once experienced the entire life of every single one of my forebears from the first Protozoa in the primordial soup to my own father, who’s eyes I now saw through as he left me on my 5th birthday in the care of my sodium bicarbonate snorting mother. “Why?” I shouted, “why did you leave me?” But it was to late. He had already left, and I was on the floor of Heston services’ Waitrose, shitting into a bag of own brand vegetable crisps, having broken in there during my psychotic episode. A the police dragged me away to life imprisonment for my act of sacrilege, I received my last philosophical awakening: there is no life- only Jam.

[astraeaataraxia]

creatrix

before the sky and the earth existed, there was only the void

and a great deal of wind

we were luonnotar, the daughter of nature

we lived in the heavens,

we floated in the sky

for ages

serene as butter

doing lazy backstrokes

in a pail of cream

until we grew lonely

leaned on the edge of the pail until it toppled

and threw ourselves into the ocean

where we floated for seven centuries

carried by bubbles from the mouths of silver fish

counting rainbows while we wound them around our fingers

letting the wind play in our hair

in the reflection of the water, there we were

crimson faced and three eyed,

crowned with a slice of moon

our hair as black as night, tumbling over our shoulders

we were bhuvaneswari, and we were so beautiful

shiva created his third eye so he would have more enjoyment

in viewing us

our name was honabe

and we were so hot

we placed cast iron pans on our inner thighs

and the heat from our vulvas

spun them to sizzling

our name was viraj

we simultaneously gave birth to each other

i remember your arm, slick with blood

and vibrating with life

we were walu, and we slept in an underground cave

where bells echoed in the corners and crickets chirped in the eaves

when we woke and stretched, light streamed out of a yawn and into the sky

we were in the uterus of the universe. roiing in kali’s ocean of blood.

we were the uterus of the universe. we were maha-kali, the great power, one with maha-kala, the absolute.

we were temu, mother of the darkness upon the face of the deep, of the abyss, of water, darkness, night, and eternity.

we were yhi, the goddess of light

and when we opened our eyes, the world flooded with light

pinging off the stars into a dizzying jeweled sea

we took a turn as juno lucina, bringing light on long strings,

bobbing like balloons, to the eyes of the newborn world.

our name was eurynome, and we rose naked from the primordial chaos

our hands thrust up from a pit of emerald snakes

we danced to divide light from darkness, sea from sky

your feet in the dust, creating the ridges of mountains

our whirling skirts created a wind that grew lustful toward us

turning to face it, we grasped the wind in our hands

rolled it into a serpent, and named it ophion.

we had intercourse with the serpent

whirled ourselves into a dove,

and laid the universal egg from which creation hatched

our name was izanami

and we stood on the edge of a rainbow

stirring chaos with a spear

until matter formed

our name was little turtle

our name was “grandmother” there was no sun, no moon, and no stars

we were carried on a river of darkness

until we grabbed lightning from the rushing water

and set it aflame in the sky

the first attempt baked the earth

the little droplets of rain we had sewn into the dirt

sizzled up and fizzled out

so we poked a little hole in the blanket of the sky

where the sun went every night

but that left the earth dark again

so, from the peel of a tangerine, we made the glittering moon,

who married the sun,

and they had stars for children.

is that right? i can’t remember

it was so very long ago

maybe it was when we were klu-mo

maybe it was like the bon-po people would tell their children

who would tell their grandchildren:

from the top of her head, the sky erupted

the moon burst from her right eye

the sun from her left

the stars from her teeth

isn’t this too many stories, dropje? i asked

with candy crouched in the hollow of your cheek, you sang “there’s no such thing as too many stories”

you called yourself nyx and took a turn as the moon

i called myself hemera and took a turn as the sun

twice each day, we passed at the brass gates of the other world

and waved from our chariots

as one of us went home

and the other mounted the sky

we’d sing to each other as we rode

our voice creating the thunder

and our tongues the lightning

our breath forming pincushion clouds

and our tears a saltwater rain

when you were taking your turn as the moon

you built yourself a turquoise palace on the western horizon

you called yourself changing woman when your age began to show, you said to me: watch this

you walked east, until you met yourself walking westward

we kept walking until your young self merged with your aging self

then, renewed, you returned home

we were nachailiavang

and we walked on top of the ocean’s waves

dropping sand from a coconut

creating scattered islands

or maybe we swallowed half the ocean

so land appeared

pleased and giggling,

we walked the world’s surface

juniper berries and feathered red ferns

springing from our footprints

one year, on the day i was born

i was out for a walk

and when the wind spun me back in

i found you had filled the house with pillows

you stuffed with winds and snow

“open them” you whispered

and out poured the seasons

by then, we were calling ourselves coadidiop

and we were growing bored of swimming in the sky

arranging and rearranging the stars at night

measuring the proportion of salt to ocean

we decided to invent smoking

we used two of our bones to create a cigar holder

and we squeezed tobacco from our bodies

we created and smoked the coca plant

and we began to see beings

in claps of thunder and bursts of lightning, men came into being but disappeared

it took us three times

before we created a man that remained in existence

oh you’re right, i forgot the time

that we lay with the sky until our four wombs were filled with the human race

we gave birth to a sticky pouch, from which a hundred eggs emerged

we gave the gods a rope and a hook, with which they pulled up human life

we were atsintma, and we began to sing

low and sweet we sang, as the earth gave birth to animals

we set our trousers on the ground,

and they curled into caribou,

we threw our jacket down,

and it folded into

a walrus

as each was born, we lifted it from beneath the earth’s blanket

we stretched the blanket between the mountains

and bounced our children on it

we did all of these things before

and we’ll do them all again

but in between the makings, media naranja

while we’re dreaming up new ideas

and waiting for new thread to arrive

re-honeying our souls and inking up our pens

we meet in the space between our world dreams

we meet back in the primordial soup

in our sandy little house by the ocean

as the ocean churns forth wave

after wave

after wave