The Escapades of young Herr Ploppel

Young Herr Ploppel to his mother, his father, his niece and his colleagues, to his memory and to his mirror. Yes, he was Young Herr Ploppel to most. But to the ladies distributed on his bed, so naked and Nerichian in size and superstition, to the high-thighed lurkers of nightly Gasses and city gates, to the alleys and oil-lamps and unforested fields, he was only Hermann.

vienna
Ever older

Young Herr Ploppel, or Hermann if you like, was a seeker of the most precious and pure escapades, a wanderer of the paths moist, soiled and unsacred. An explorer of coves and caves.

And he laid her upon that divan.

Her skin pale and fresh, reflecting light diffuse.
Her curves, womanly and fertile, yet modest and continuous.
Her eyes, tracing his, rays of creation.

And they laid upon that divan.

Ploppel (Hermann, our man) awoke as if a new man, and that new man was old, so old … He walked into Viennese streets, upon Germanic cobblestone and ancient manure, piss, blood, sadness. He was changed and unchanging. He raised his gaze, and saw nothing. The scholars of the Sexual Soldier’s Sorrow School hold today that this was the very moment at which Ploppel & Europa slipped irreverisbly into infinite debauchery, endless genocide, unending un-logik.

 

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Peer, the Civil

Peer, Peer, you are too civil!

The very first Song I ever heard was Krimalainen’s lament upon Livare. And such a Song it was (of sorrow, of Korbu, of sorrow-joy)!

Oh, Majahi, struck by thunder and thunderous applause, you are eternally eternal and actually actual. Oh, Ville, mourn those windows of broken love…

Oh, ohm… Peer! Rest in Srpska…

What does the algorithm say? Is it within?

On contemporary politics and pertinent journalism, a dark cloud of unlogik descends. Right ∨ Wrong is cast aside in unsound relativism, replaced by Nice ∧ Pleasing, resulting ultimately in ¬(Soul ∨ Spirit ∨ Justice). How foolish it is to cast aside the one true source of truth, which has been accessible to Man for centuries:

I yelled. Yes! Like Ingo!

What did he yell? You know, yes, that knowledge exists within you. It is within. That source, that fountain, that great light of the world, He is Krim.

Can Nerichian unlogik encompass the totality of or even apprehend a single ray of that glorious light? Any system of Reason & Doubt built on its perverted inferences will never achieve universal understanding, and lead only to lies and despair. This is the Algorithm of Fallen Modernity, current ruler of this world, sick and base judge, unrelenting Algorithm, and the Algorithm judges:

No, this is not within!
Abolish these words of insight!

Yell all you like,
your thoughts I will smite.
I reign in all Capitals
of Moral Decay!

No, none of this is within!
Abandon your prophet in red!

Pray only that you (that we) have not yet fallen victim to this process of Nerichian indoctrination, of Spirit-surgery, of irreversible deconstruction …

The most dangerous Krim of all; the double Krim

The lore of Krim touches both fiction and reality. He confirms and contradicts himself. Is He of one? Is He of many?

How can our minds comprehend, that who must be, the most dangerous Idea of all?

Those that deny Him, may suffer tautologies so deceiving that their minds fall into that Hellish state, that very X-apocryphal logik. However, we cannot say that they are wrong to refuse Him, for a mind may be to small and narrow to master and perceive the Jacobian tales that moves beyond fiction.

He is of one, and He is of many! He is father of fantasy and reality. To Him they are one!

Those who believe in Him, deserve no suffering. But their mind will not fully understand his intentions, and doubt will certainly reach them as well. It was so for Johann, Rau, Ingo, Jurii and so many others. His strength and wisdom is so enormous that our feeble minds cannot fathom it.

For I have gazed upon Him, that ghost, that idea, that most powerful creature..