Travis Hedge Coke
There Is Nothing Left to Say On The Invisibles
6.03
Hypersigil
by Travis Hedge Coke
El Beso De Los Invisibles is one of the most famed murals in Bogotá.
Imagination models. World is workspace.
Your senses tell you, show you, prop portents.
All the different sigils, ceremonies, achievements.
Let the hanging nymph’s embrace receive.
One of the lessons in the earliest bound pages of The Invisibles is a lesson for Jack Frost and for us: holding someone’s hand does not make them more real or trusted. That is only taught expectation.
The machine of intent, sed et serpens, papier on mâché (papillon glacé), has a fold-in from the future.
Every lesson in The Invisibles is for someone in The Invisibles, and for us. The us in and the us out of The Invisibles, like our minds and bodies and Earth, wherein we put gods and devils and giants and sylphs, barons and chiefs and artists and art.
The Invisibles is workspace. It stays workspace when the comic is closed, off the page, out of panels. The deaths, daaths, placebo highs, the One Canada Square leap are workspace operations for and on us and the comic. We reflect into the comic as we peruse, pore, ruminate, remember, rememory. Time as volume. Scattered wife after death.
Anamnesis amanuensis us. Sis.
While The Invisibles may have been intended to syncretize practices, faiths, and factions, it is acceptable in play to discretize methodology and historic presence to split back apart what was functionally unified to examine a common point or clarify separations.
Looking back, syuzet are fabula made in erasing the fabula made in another syuzet made. Structural editing can only occur after a delay, with a period after time, but developmental editing can only occur after delay, with periods after time. The pleasure machine. Time after the periods are laid. Time needs a think to edit what it goes in.
A dangerous or awkward experience can be tested in imaginal realms, but in truth, our experience with the imaginal is frequently as emotionally and psychologically true as our experience in skin and dust realms. Any brokering with disease spirits can be done in sitting, breathing spacetime or thought-to-act on page comics. Empathy for Christ, kundalini lightning, magick diaries, queer expression, romance, hate, good food, pleasure, rest, safety can be found in our engagement with either kind of operational range, either phasespace.
Universe This or Universe That are not even a feeling you have, a place you have been, how you are at the moment, but part of it. Universe B, Universe A, your shortcuts through the bad stuff, your desperate plea to jumpcut you to paradise are part of it. A dangerous or awkward experience can be experienced and performed in imaginal realms.
Edit, from the Latin, Sedet; to sit. Esse excised or erased, every gundelet a gondola in time.
Free to think whatever you want of the wankathon, a group masturbation exercise proposed by Grant Morrison to charge the sales and presence of the comic, you can engage anytime and may have engaged without knowing. Who knows your thoughts when you.
A is A is only transpersonal inasmuch as it is personal. Universe B is chutes and platforms as much as, or instead of, ladders and snakes.
The Shadow knows. Old Jack Frost. Sylvia Plath’s The Shadow, from Superman and Paula Brown’s New Snowsuit. The Shadow of Doctor Sax. The Young Wolf Shadow. “Who has ever stopped to think of the divinity of Lamont Cranston?” Amiri Baraka. In Memory of Radio.
Every operation we do is done in group. We are the group work. We are the radial rememory of christine shadow. The show began before we walked or the door. One big stone barney rubble.
The multiprecarious Lou Reed song, Amida Butsu, which only exists in thoughts we now share. Edie Says.
Like images of tombstones, they catch the sun. Kiss. Kiss. We don’t know the tune but can hum it for you. Intrauterine experience is universe and intimately individuated. And, speculated. As petit a is to universe a or non erit ibi and universe b.
Amida Butsu. Jackie says. Jack Chan. “The Mobs must be camouflaged to survived.”
Counter, disagreement, disenfranchisement, regulation, regaling, rescaling are playing the game. The Authority Unit was defined by a bigot.
Group time projection is just hand in hand in hand in glove friends moving in space and time. The solo modes are lying in bed alone with your headphones on. Putting on the right clothes. Skin stretched through seconds or years. Massé of intent. Cachet ??.
Raggedy Ann is a doll who comes to life in thirteen stories numbered twelve. Raggedy Ann is not named for the daughter who died young by a creator and Raggedy Ann is not the name of Ragged Robin, as it was trademarked. Ragged Robin might name a baby for a kind of pottery and design with his doll face on a toilet-porcelain-white mask.
It does not matter if you believe in spirits or devils any more than it matters if you believe in time or distance. Width or without you, the operations can pull something out and stick it to trap, flypaper for demons or flypaper for pain. Concentrated effigies. Consecrated asperities.
In Raggedy Ann Stories the dolls and toys are alive when attended or unattended, but only get up to walk and learn lessons when hungry and alone.
Let Audrey or Kirk or Marta or Fanny fee for you. No one is killed to perform the ritual in which we see Fanny and Quimper debased. No one may even be debased, Eraser. The ritual is performed in a perforated spacetime, the perfunctory comics panels. Pagespace safety measures, Debaser. We make it happen in our heads, or it happens only in record. Recorded made believe.
“The tin soldier fell from the shelf three times and bent one of his tin legs, but he scrambled right back up again.”
Pick and mix word bags, tails wagging at mannequins. Oh my goddess, they’re talking!
We hear pop songs with suspicion. All the kinds yzygy. subiectum. sebum. m. We look on a comics panel with faith we did not know we had. London Bridge and Canary Wharf and St Paul’s sebaceous Cathedral as cardinal points on a pigeon-eyed map for vetoed boys. Jack Frost takes his steps and our feet go in the prints. Every magick ritual, each social rite, the dreams and nightmares and video gameplay and flashbacks and rag-chewing sessions are characters, caricatured, and us.
ATM Machine. Cult of Carts’ cargo. Loup-Garou. Get to it! The tin soldier fell from the shelf tails wagging at mannequins.
The Kiss of the Invisibles stretches, grows, goes on betwixt us. Knight of Swords. Four of Wands. Eight of Wands. The show began before we walked or the door. The great thot Hermes come the latin mere. One stone to bind. A heap of stones.
You would not have made it this far if things were not about to change.
*******
Nothing in There is Nothing Left to Say (On The Invisibles) is guaranteed factually correct, in part or in toto, nor aroused or recommended as ethically or metaphysically sound, and the same is true of the following recommendations we hope will nonetheless be illuminating to you, our most discriminating audience.
Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose. Jim Balent & Holly Golightly. 2000–.
A, A’. Moto Hagio. 1981-1984.
The year between A Cruel God Reigns and Otherworld Barbara. Moto Hagio. 2001-2002.
“All human beings are brothers. We may fight, but in the long history of the world, we are all from the same planet.” – Leiji Matsumoto, with his wife and widow, Miyako Maki, whose intertwining body of work lives before and after him.
