My heart wishes to sing of stories from our ancient past, about our history;
from the orgy of the gods to the twenty-seven year War of Trâlap; to the castration
of the heavens above; to the many wars of the gods—every single one of the conflicts—
who reside up in the great mountain Jóli, who provide us humans with everything
necessary, who are more powerful than we mere meat popsicles will ever be,
and who have the divine right to abuse and harm us however they see fit.
One day, the Tots taught the farmer Songtrõur gorgeous song while was
preoccupied with his livestock at the foot of Mount Gallows, near the forest.
The goddesses first spoke these words to him, the Tots, the muses of Jóli,
daughters of Mêmorí, daughter of Úit, daughter of Èr, some distant relation
to the bright eye Sån: “Simple farmers, worthless shits, mere and meaningless anuses,
we all know how to tell many falsehoods as though they were truthful
and, whenever we feel like it, we know when and how to tell the truth.”
To this Songtrõur the farmer responded: “If you know how to tell lies
as the truth, then there is no way to tell whether or not you sisters are
being truthful, especially if I'm telling something as important as the
history of our holy gods and the wars of our ancestors. So, I'm sorry,
I am afraid that I must reject any offer you give me to tell me your stories.
In the most simplest of layman's terms, you sisters: Begone, Tots!”
The daughters of Mêmorí were aghast at this act of blasphemy. How dare
this vile, insignificant farmer treat the keepers of story and song in such
a disrespectful manner? He must pay for his unhallowed transgression post haste.
And so he did. The Tots, who bless men with their magical gift of song,
punished Songtrõur for his wrongdoing by shuffling the functions of every single
one of his bodily orifices: where his eyes lay now were tiny slits for urination;
his ears and nostrils switched places; the insides of his mouth were replaced
with veins and stalks for both his eyeballs; and his teeth, tongue, and vocal cords
were relocated to his anus. No longer able to speak, the criminal farmer now
could only produce horrific bellows from his rear.
The muses of Jóli also purged the blasphemer of his mortality, leaving him to
suffer in this state for all eternity.
So continued the journey of the celestial-voiced sisters, moving their delicate,
dainty arms through the air; their lengthy, gorgeous hair revealing their stunning faces,
their cerulean irises and luscious red lips. The lovely dames searched to and fro
for someone to sing their beautiful songs.
Eventually, the Tots arrived to me while I was pitching a tent near the bottom
of Mount Lòrel and, with their beautiful, godly voices, spoke these words to me:
“Listen to us, you swine, whatever the fuck it is you do for a damn living!
We all know how to tell many falsehoods as though they were truthful
and, whenever we feel like it, we know when and how to tell the truth.”
Thus said the fluent daughters of Mêmorí and they had created a stylus
out of a reed and handed it to me, along with tons of tobacco, peyote, and
toloache; some word processing software; and access to their Wix account,
breathing into me a sacred, inspirational voice so that I could celebrate
the things that have been, the things that are, and the things that will be,
and they requested me to sing of the race of the blessed, immortal gods
that will last for all time and outlast us unworthy swine by a long shot,
and I should sing praise for the beautiful Tots first and foremost.
But why all this about an oak and a rock? What does this have to do with
an oak or a rock? Why should I care about those things that keep
going around a rock or an oak? Why could it be not about a river or the rain?
Why is there nothing about snow, coldness, or trees? Is this story related
to grass and iron? Does the previous paragraph have to do with them?
Why should I give a fuck about retarded stuff that keeps chattering about
and revolving around a maple, snow, river, or a tree?
I think I might have lost my trail of thought just now.
Now let us begin with the Tots who please all, including the all-seeing Sån,
with their songs, telling of things that have been, that were, and that will be,
with deep, sultry voices in harmony, and a sound flowing smoothly from their
sweet mouths. The house of the all-mother Sån delights in their exquisite sound
as it spreads around, from the peaks of holy Mount Jóli, through the homes of
the immortal ones.
The Tots of Jóli were born in different times. The first Tots were born at the
dawn of the universe, born with the creation of their mother Mêmorí,
daughter of gleaming-eyed Úit, born with the creation of her father Èr.
The extra set of Tots came into being during the orgy of the gods,
being born after intercourse with airy Èr, bright Chîr, and each other.
Thus the nine maidens came to be, alike in thought, each with a song
in their tits, now residing in Mount Jóli, their beautiful faces and voices
sharing residency with the great big, might deathless ones that have full
permission to violate us as skin puppets as much as humanly possible.
Hence is the lifelong fate of the lovely Tots, begotten mostly by Mêmorí,
daughter of intellectual Úit: Mîusiq, Jìstorí, Pôetrï, Ãrt, Dáns, Cõmedí, Lírec,
Irátec, and Èpeq, who is chiefest of the nine as she accompanies revered royalty.
Hail, daughters of Mêmorí, daughter of Úit, daughter of Èr! Give your lovely tune
and celebrate the mighty, holy immortal gods who are permanent and immortal,
those born of broad Ürt, those from all-encompassing Scaîfadér, from bright Laít,
and those produced by moist, salty Òchen. Sing to me, Tots, how the great
gods above and Ürt came into existence, and the creeks and the rivers
and the raging, all-encircling, lustful sea kept in place by Ürtaívur, the great turtle.
Tell it all from the very beginning, tell me what happened first, and tell
me which god had been born first.
Before the sea and the earth and the all-engulfing heavens came to be,
the entirety of the universe displayed nothing; no sights, scents, or sounds.
Yet in that void, all barren and vacant, the universe exhibited also a goddess,
which men have named Cásim, with women giving the same name as well.
Cásim was a transparent, featureless vacuum, composed of nothing but nihility,
engulfing all the unoccupied universe with her arid body, sitting around acting inert.
On her inception, Cásim, the primordial being, received a vision, its origin a mystery,
about a massive golden object, ovular in shape, the surface ever lustrous and glorious.
The goddess was at a loss for a solution; no idea had arrived to her
as to what this item was from her vision or how to retrieve this object.
The chasm remained in the empty vacuum that also consisted of herself
with no actions to do or songs to sing. She remained in the void, often
thinking to herself about the mysterious vision, the meaning of it,
the meaning of them, the definition of he, the explanation of she, the answer
to those, and how to collect this mysterious gilt spherical object from her dream.
Numerous eons and ages of thought and planning for the chasm goddess
finally developed in resulting with absolutely no ideas or solutions whatsoever.
At last, after what seemed like a few centuries to this desolate deity, but
to us humans would be millions of millennia dragging on for all eternity,
the goddess thought of a way to obtain the desire from her dreams.
She moved her transparent arm, shaking the whole nonexistence around her,
and reached all the way down, directly into her southernmost cavity.
Searching deeper and deeper, going in a straight line beyond her finger ring,
Cásim the empty and all-encompassing could believe not the destitute eyes,
for she was holding the inscrutable object from the premonition she had:
an egg with the texture of solid gold and dimensions so enormous and big
they are unthinkable to the minds of mere mortal men, women, and children.
Only a modicum of time had passed since the discovery of the golden egg
did Cásim the transparent goddess of the chasm, born before men or gods,
toss the egg, her obsession ever since her birth dream, away from her.
The golden egg which originated from the deep hole of the chasm Cásim
plummeted southward all throughout the blank void of the universe.
There was no ground in existence upon which the egg could land.
After much delay, as a result of descending downward for ages,
the transparent gap deity Cásim's egg of gold suddenly flew upward,
straight north, with the velocity of a peregrine falcon.
For a great while, the amount of which presently remains unknown,
not to any mortal human, as there were no such things yet,
nor even the gods above, of which the chasm Cásim was the sole deity,
the golden egg, ever so lustrous, ascended in the direction opposite
the egg had been previously traveling, falling all the way downwards.
But later, the ascension came to a spontaneous conclusion, stopping at
what would be considered the northernmost area of the vacuum of the cosmos,
higher somehow than even feature-less Cásim, who encompassed all the universe.
Cracks appeared on the surface of the golden egg, increasing in size,
culminating with each crack contacting and intersecting one another.
The egg then fell apart under its failing, its auric surface broken and damaged.
All originally preserved within the shell now were free to spill outside.
Once loaded with absolute blankness, not a color to be viewed by the eyes,
nor a shade or tone of gray visible, not a breeze of wind to be felt,
nor any kind of heat or cold to make any contact on any possible flesh,
the countenance of everything and the whole of the universe now bore
chaotic disorder uniformly waste all around, as far as any eye could see.
The freshly released mass was naught but weight without action, a general
mixture of matter made up of heterogeneous and inharmonious elements.
The land and the water and the flame and the air were all involved
with this massive mess, yet none could walk on the earth, it was impossible
to swim in or drink from the water, the flame could produce no heat,
and the air felt solid.
No element kept its shape nor size nor temperature; all were in struggle
with one another in a single form: the hot with the cold, the dry
with the wet, the solid with the liquid, the liquid with the gas,
the chaste with the perverse, the primary colors with the secondary colors,
the tertiary colors with the primary colors, the liberals with the conservatives,
the liberals with the progressives, and the Bloods with the Crips.
An unidentified deity, still unknown to this day, who was tired of this nonsense,
intervened in the situation and brought this conflict into a conclusion.
He parted the sea from the sky and he split the fire from the land;
he extricated the elements, so to free them from the muss of chaos,
and gave the new spirits realms and tied them down in a tranquil covenant.
The flowing goddess Uáter was placed in the direction of the sunset;
the same mysterious god relocated glowing Faír all the way down to the
lowest region of the cosmos; the god, in direct contrast to his arrangement of
gushing Uáter, positioned malleable Èr to the sphere of the sunrise; and finally,
all-encompassing Ürt, she who bears all things and beings living and dead,
was transplanted by the spirit to the uppermost and highest cosmic area.
THE CHILDREN OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS
From Uáter, all on her own, were born deep-swirling Òchen, the ocean goddess,
crashing all against dark Ürt, the mighty goddess who bears all and everything;
woebegone Sát, who spreads misery to men, along with women and children, and all
creatures and plants and minerals; benign and loving Píss, he who has wet ear backs;
icy, white Còd; pristine, fair-haired lady Pîur; fresh-faced Lobb, who, with his arrows,
brings romance between men and women, and between two men, and amongst two women,
and towards children, and towards adults, and amidst children and adults, and amidst varying
species; compassionate Naïs; the single terrible Fìr, who produces horrors that drive her twin
sister, Tred, to grab the hearts of all and purge them of all happiness;
arable Jârbest who produces crops for the livelihood of men; and lethargic Böm.
From Faír were born shining Laít; the all-seeing sun, Sån; blazing Jît;
irate Ěnguer, he who imbues rage in even the most calmest of living beings;
vigorous god Ênerchí, producer of power; fair-haired, clean Pîur; deadly Rüen,
who breeds and unleashes devastation and havoc; aggressive Jǒstel; and green Fúrtel,
she who is responsible for the creation of all life of all kinds.
From brilliant Laít, son of Faír, came joyous Chîr; unconcealed, open Trüt, appearing as
a lovely nude maiden; Chôstes, the eyeless good lady of counsel; and Deámerícanüeí,
the ever brash god of foolish bravery and promoting freedom and equality to foreign
lands but often denying some of those to his homeland.
Ěnguer, the short-tempered son of Faír, bore fresh-faced Lebïdo, eternally youthful god
of lust who loosens limbs, the reason behind erections and arousal; remorseless Comôpens,
distributing to violators of laws what is due; and all-destroying Destroíer.
Loose-bodied Èr produced the eight Uènds, the brothers who produce blasts and gales:
Nort, the blizzard-lord who lives in the uppermost realm; Íst, who shares his home
with the rosy-fingered dawn; Nortíst, who resides between his two brothers;
Saót, residing in the lowest domain, near the heat, the warmth, and near Alabama;
Saótíst, who resides between his two brothers; Üest, placed in the heart of civilization,
in the turf of the sunset, running all the way through Babylon and the desert;
Nortüest, who resides between his two brothers; and Saótüest, who resides between his
Airy Èr, along with the raging Uènds, bare also Scaîfadér, all-knowing sky god,
made equal to Ürt, to envelope her on all sides, to hold her hills and canyons,
and to be an ever-sure living-space for the gods blessed and deathless;
Lèbertî, bringer of freedom, destroyer of tyranny; eggheaded, gleaming-eyed Úit,
and short-sighted, doltish Dom, ironically enough. Úit, daughter of fluttering Èr,
bare upon birth Mêmorí, who upon birth bare the first Tots: Mîusiq, Jìstorí, Pôetrï,
Ãrt, and Dáns.
Laying with no one, broad Ürt bore constant Steïbel; green Fúrtel, she who is
responsible for the creation of all life of all kinds; the terrible Taím,
bearing the countenance of an old man, carrying the ever-spinning, spiral-faced wheel
Saïcul, and wearing the nicest, most efficient jogging shoes anyone's ever seen;
tender Mõderlí; pristine, fair-haired Pîur, goddess of cleanliness; and dark Dãrc.
Of rayless Dãrc were born black Naít, who generated Drîm and Naítmer; terrible Fìr
and her twin sister Tred; the evil twin brothers Dët and Slìp; sinister Dum; and
terrible Taím, bearing the countenance of an old man, carrying the ever-spinning,
spiral-faced wheel Saïcul, and wearing the nicest, most efficient jogging shoes anyone's ever seen.
Upon the simultaneous arrival of all these spirits, Böm produced a wave of apathy
amongst all the undying gods, including Böm himself. This period of inaction lasted
to what the deathless deities above seemed like more than an eternity; this magnitude
of disinterest could be barely be apprehended to even the most cerebral of the
most wisest of all philosophers.
Afterward, a sudden spark from Lebïdo, son of Ěnguer the son of Faír, struck all
the permanent gods. The hold of boredom over them had officially come to an end.
Uáter mated with Èr, creating the pair of siblings known as clouds and sea smoke;
the various cloud nymphs of varying thickness and sizes now reside way above
all-bearing Ürt. The clouds lied with their moist mother and bare drizzly Reîn.
Icy Còd laid with Reîn, who creates the precipitation that helps crops grow,
and produced niveous Snö, who develops the flurries. Sweltering Jît and nautical
Òchen joined Uáter and Èr in steamy intercourse, spawning the vile demon
Tõndurǔr, the beast whose hair consists of dark, moist stormy clouds and
whose mere movement of his arms causes the most horrific gusts of a storm
and who owns the terrible bright and forked whip that he crashes earthward,
with deadly and lethal results.
The eight Uènds engaged in the bacchanalia as well. Conjugating with Còd, daughter
of aquatic Uáter, mother of wintry Snö, the brothers and the frozen one
unleashed the wretched monstrosity Jeïl, who storms hurricanes of white solid ice.
The windy brothers laid with blistering Jît along with frozen Còd, producing
the rotating, lethal brute Tòrneído, a violent creature who extends the total distance
between the land men walk on to the very bottom of a cloud.
Simultaneously, shining Laít simultaneously mated with Èr, his son Scaîfadér,
Uáter, and her daughter Òchen, and consequently bare the multicolored messenger
from the heavens, Mèsenchér, who usually appears after the clouds lose their gray
color and all-seeing Sån shines her rays on the wet land, riding through the air
in a circular rainbow bearing a message to humans from the immortal ones.
The Tots, muses to all poets and artists, engaged in the saturnalia as well.
Concupiscent Lebïdo laid with poetic Pôetrï and bare Irátec, Tot of sexually
explicit stories. Atmospheric Èr coupled with Pôetrï too, producing thrilling Èpeq.
Exuberant Chîr, daughter of lustrous Laít, son of Faír, cohabited with Pôetrï and
birthed mirthful, humorous Cõmedí. Musical Mîusiq then lay with her poetic sister
to create lovely Lírec.
But no lust was prominent towards the immortal ones than towards broad Ürt.
Faír and his scorching daughter Jît fornicated with the earth, penetrating her crevices,
climaxing with the primordial one shooting his torrid flames into the mother of all,
giving birth to siblings Maîgma and Lâba; along with sooty, talented Forch; and
minerals and gems similar to one another in nature.
Afterward, Òchen, sinuous daughter of Uáter, fondled the surface of dark Ürt,
mating with the massive mother and bearing the rivers and creeks, like the Rancocas.
The spark from lecherous Lebïdo seemed to affect Òchen a little too strongly;
so strong was her urge for the all-bearing earth, with aggressive fornication,
that the earth was drowning in the ocean's bellicose, gushing liquids.
Suddenly, to alleviate the peril of Ürt, an enormous turtle appeared by seemingly
the will of an unknown god, perhaps the one that organized the primordial mess
that first formed the universe all that time ago. The turtle, known later to men,
women, and children—this seems to have been the second time that joke was used
and it already feels old, obvious, and repetitive—as Ürtaívur, flew from the sky.
With just a move from his mighty leg, Ürtaívur freed Mother Earth's head
from the blue surface of the daughter of Uáter and back into the realm of air.
The moment, however, the turtle ceased moving his limb, Òchen merely resumed
her lust toward all-bearing Ürt, but the massive turtle swirled all his limbs and
his tail with cyclonic speed. Consequently, the aquatic surface of Òchen suddenly
developed waves of varying sizes, becoming rough and choppy. Òchen, moist
daughter of aqueous Uáter, still lusts to the all-mother Ürt and the great
turtle, Ürtaívur, spins his limbs to keep the ocean at bay.
The initial mating of the ocean and the earth resulted in development
of tiny, mossy nymphs. They would mate with Jît, scorching daughter of primordial
Faír, to form the first trees, plants, and bushes.
Now the great, all-encompassing sky, Scaîfadér, lay too dangerously close to broad
Ürt, leaving no space for the clouds in the air or for the developing plant life
on the surface of the earth, totally engulfing her surface. Ürtaívur, using all his might
and strength, tried to shove Scaîfadér up, but the son of exposed Èr got
aroused at the mere thought of being close to the large mother, and he became cocked
and rigid so his vertical member would remain on massive, rotund Ürt.
The giant turtle was at a crossroads at what to do about this predicament:
the heavens were lusting towards mother earth, keeping an erect hold on the
object of his desire; if he were to lay on top of her again, there would be
no breathing room for the moss on the surface and the clouds of the air;
but to prevent all-covering Scaîfadér from suffocating Ürt, the plants,
and the clouds, the turtle Ürtaívur would need to bite off the member of
the great sky, which could possibly regrow and the turtle would have to do
the entire process over again.
Ürtaívur thoroughly thought about this situation, evaluating all the pros and cons
of each solution, for some time, which to us humans would feel like precisely
Gathering all his courage, Ürtaívur moved his topmost head towards the sky's
bottommost head and castrated the heavens. Thinking quickly, the turtle placed
the still-rigid genitals in the realm of the north, placing them against the heavens.
This only partially worked because Scaîfadér merely made his move on the
Again did Ürtaívur bite down and tore off the heaven's atmospheric meat stick
and giant eggs, placing them this time in the lowest domain, in the area
of pure heat. Scaîfadér, who engulfs the entire world and would later be the
home of the immortal gods, was deterred not by this at all.
Scaîfadér regrew his genitalia afresh and Ürtaívur once more eunuchized the heavens,
placing the celestial manhood in the area of the sunrise. The sky grew his erect
phallus anew and the turtle, after emasculating the god, moved the severed shaft
to the domain of the sunset. This process repeated for the directions in-between.
Finally, at long last, after an octet of ethereal orchidotomies, massive Scaîfadér,
equal to size of the surface of Ürt, became limp as a result of the indignity of
being upheld by his severed straight serpents all around him. His lust for
the all-bearing mother had died off.
The many castrations caused a massive ocean of blood to land on the surface
of the earth, who was already encircled by the lustful ocean. The giant turtle
Ürtaívur created a crevice in broad Ürt to drain the blood and put it away,
feeling confident that it would never reappear and be of no further importance,
but of course we all know better than that, and the heavenly blood will play
a significant role much later on.