"It is the contingency of our embodied 'life' that prevents us from fulfilling the sacred Övoid Law.
"All we have are our creaking boots; they nose through a discarded colony of rancid eggshells under the beaming gowns of the streetlights. The shells gape with translucent mouths of bone. Fractured teeth overhang reservoirs of infested 'saliva' within them.
"Space is cluttered with the leering artifacts that compose the Conglomerate Beast of Surface. The facts are: thimblesful of leftover egg white cradled in a dropped styrofoam container that shelters the ruins of a dozen former eggs. All of this, crawling with glittering brown ants that come through the cracks in the ancient Chicago cement.
"We are a shattered echo of a former 'life' that has been fused back into a whole by accident in the suck of that pinwheeling sink drain at the bottom of an airless, yet bulging black balloon.
"We are a synthetic semblance of a 'life,' entering at the exit-door of the Universe. But this is a practical measure, saying all of this. It is for your benefit, not ours.
"We are 'alive,' Charles Ybdis has 'a life,' in the hopes that you will understand us. But what is in a 'life?' This season, we will do our best to show you. In this Iptarian year, we will lay down the scriptures recounting episodes in a case history of the 'life' of Yelmac Tobias. Yes, he. Do you remember him?
"The case history was handed down to us--to Charles--from an arch-krespïth of the now revealed Geth-Tek (see Iptar Manifesto). The details come from the dæmon who serves the Eternal Övoid, CRISPÖS. Along with the rest of us, Hê seeks to share the details of this Yelmac and his imminent dissolution as a means of coming one step closer to fulfilling the Iptar mission. To condensing all that is human and proud into a single gleaming boiled egg, perched on a heartless pedestal under the blistering flash of a buzzing display light in the deep velvet gallery of spæce, where we do not ever 'live' any 'life.' Where the razor teeth aspire to undo the sailors cast overboard from Odysseus's ship and cyclone their flaische into a salmon-colored dagger at the bottom of the Strait of Messina.
"Thus begins the epiklisi:
"All we have are our creaking boots; they nose through a discarded colony of rancid eggshells under the beaming gowns of the streetlights. The shells gape with translucent mouths of bone. Fractured teeth overhang reservoirs of infested 'saliva' within them.
"Space is cluttered with the leering artifacts that compose the Conglomerate Beast of Surface. The facts are: thimblesful of leftover egg white cradled in a dropped styrofoam container that shelters the ruins of a dozen former eggs. All of this, crawling with glittering brown ants that come through the cracks in the ancient Chicago cement.
"We are a shattered echo of a former 'life' that has been fused back into a whole by accident in the suck of that pinwheeling sink drain at the bottom of an airless, yet bulging black balloon.
"We are a synthetic semblance of a 'life,' entering at the exit-door of the Universe. But this is a practical measure, saying all of this. It is for your benefit, not ours.
"We are 'alive,' Charles Ybdis has 'a life,' in the hopes that you will understand us. But what is in a 'life?' This season, we will do our best to show you. In this Iptarian year, we will lay down the scriptures recounting episodes in a case history of the 'life' of Yelmac Tobias. Yes, he. Do you remember him?
"The case history was handed down to us--to Charles--from an arch-krespïth of the now revealed Geth-Tek (see Iptar Manifesto). The details come from the dæmon who serves the Eternal Övoid, CRISPÖS. Along with the rest of us, Hê seeks to share the details of this Yelmac and his imminent dissolution as a means of coming one step closer to fulfilling the Iptar mission. To condensing all that is human and proud into a single gleaming boiled egg, perched on a heartless pedestal under the blistering flash of a buzzing display light in the deep velvet gallery of spæce, where we do not ever 'live' any 'life.' Where the razor teeth aspire to undo the sailors cast overboard from Odysseus's ship and cyclone their flaische into a salmon-colored dagger at the bottom of the Strait of Messina.
"Thus begins the epiklisi:
CRISPÖS VOSKRESPÜ!
VÜISHTÜ VOSKRESPÜ!"
--Iptari Voskrespion 1010:0'2"
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