I don't know if it will survive extensively, but I think there will probably be descendents of the ideas of today, at a bare minimum. Whether we'd recognise the names or the things that get made of them I don't know.

What really frightens me is that it's the conservative-souled, the ones who don't thrive on the infinitude of possibility where raw chaos-creation (Nun chaos) is seeping in, who are the ones who are most likely to sit there and pin the sucker down. And I'm here, with a half-formulated diatribe on theological scholarship, and with the book the jackal boys told me to write, and it scares the holy fuck out of me.

Because I want it pinned down. And the ripple effect has a murderous bloody undertow. Those are some big damn waves. Maybe nothing comes of pinning my spot down, it's a little tiny inlet, it doesn't touch more than a few immediate lives, the ocean shifts, it dries up eventually. But maybe not. Y'know?

Maybe I need to go down to the beach and talk to the ocean. At night, though, not for the singing up the sun ritual for Wep Rompet.