Fuckin' Monkeys. Pooler Jones claims to have smoked dope with the good Abbot Suger - though he cautions that the potency of marijauna in 1144 AD was sadly anemic when he compares it with the Super Skunk you can buy in Amsterdam or the shit from British Columbia which brings on Synesthesia. Pooler says Suger was prone to mania and that he was entirely too optimistic about his program to transform matter into victorious light. The first time god tried to bridge the gap between the two nations of matter and light he ended up with a band of angels who wanted nothing more than to spend their eternities fucking monkey girls on middle earth. Look how well that turned out. Even the Nazis got sucked into that myth and spent decades schlepping around the frozen north looking for Thule and the ancient race of Nordic Übermen only to realize that the race had been infected with a monkey Henta Virus and had slowly dissolved into mud. It turns out the blond gods just couldn't keep their holy dicks out of the monkey girls and like the Watchers had been seduced by humus & pink and had paid the hard price of thickening their light souls into the congealed and the constituted. So we have all these shards of light stuck in stuff. All these "spiritualizations" casting shadows where translucence used to be. All in All, the wisdom goes, we're all just bricks in the wall. Which was not the plan, so in the end it's hard to figure just how you could live like that: "neither entirely in the slime of earth, nor entirely in the purity of heaven."

So in the Summer of 2005 - a couple of years past the date we had originally planned - Kenny La Roche finally took to the Campus of our Cathedral for the hang of the Rose Window. Dogs and Chillin' showed up for the event as did Thomas Aquinas to film it. The site is a mile or so in from the staging area near the road so we had the piece broke down into parts so that we could coolie them over the fields. The Captain's son as well as two of his grandchildren were a part of the artist that day, as was Bruno and JackyO and Bill Allen.

Kenny is not badmouthing Apotheosis or its function of Transformation. We just think it's all become Skeuomorphic today. The Exhaltation of matter - which is the Alchemical Program - has, lately, slipped into Decoration. What was once the sine qua non of Existence - the Apotheatic Function of Transubstantiation with its resonance and correspondences which reach all the way to Satan heself - has been co-opted by the Watchers who control the Media and rebranded as Oxyclean, shilled by Billy Mays. We have "substituted Metaphor for Metamorphosis" - which can make poetry happen but not magic. Magic Marrys the Worlds. The one above to the one below. Without Magic there can be no transformations of matter into light.

We had already prepped the tree the autumn before so there was in place a "Drop" - which is the highly frapped and flemished wire which will attach the Rose thru itself to the branch of the tree. Naturally we have not pierced the Cambrian layer of the branch, or the tree, or anything wooden within miles. A chain in a rubber sleeve goes over the branch so the tree is not injured in any way. Slag gris-grised the Captain for the climb - about 40 feet - and without a reservation, the Captain launched himself at the heavens. Like the Tower of Babel, he figured he could just as easily storm the place as putz around earning a spot in the Empyrea thru a grueling lifetime of good works, self-sacrifice, and Stigmata. Fuck it! The Captain said, "I'm goin' up!"

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