suffixes communs

suffixes are exactly like the prefixes, but the syllabe is added at the end! contrary to the prefixes that don’t change the grammatical class of the transformed word, suffixes do : the word can become an adjective (facile : easy), a noun (facilité : easiness) of a adverb (facilement : easily).

1. suffixes used to create adjectives :

  • -ais, -ois, -ien (resident of some place) : lyonnais-e (from Lyon), amiénois-e (Amiens), parisien-ne (Paris).
  • -able, -ible (capacity, ability) : buvable (drinkable), lisible (legible, readable).
  • -eur, -eux, -if (characteristic) : rieur/euse (cheerful), courageux/-geuse (brave), tardif/-dive (late).

2. suffixes used to create nouns :

  • -er/-ère, -iste, -eur/-rice, -ien/-ienne (who does the thing) : boulanger/ère (baker), artiste, acteur/actrice, informaticien-ne (computer specialist).
  • -ie, -té/-ité, -tion (quality or action) : tricherie (cheating), agilité (agility), attention (thoughtfulness).
  • -et, -elet, -on, -eau, -iot (diminutive) : roitelet (little/shitty king), caneton (baby duck), chevreau (kid : baby goat), chiot (puppy).

3. suffixes used to create verbs :

  • -ifier, -oyer (action) : intensifier (making more intense), foudroyer (striking down)
  • -asser, -ailler (pejorative) : rêvasser (daydreaming), piailler (chirping)

4. suffixes used to create adverbs :

  • -ment (way) : faiblement (weakly)

NB : faible is an epicene adjective (: same word for female or male subject) ; when your adjective is not, you will have to use the male version and possibly take off the last consonant. 

examples : pretty > joli/jolie > joliment ; nice > gentil/gentille > gentiment.


And then there were a pair, boy and girl. I saw them together a great deal, and at first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until one day I saw them up close and realized they had to be siblings. Later I learned they were twins. They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave, as a couple of Flemish angels. And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden–where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de regueur– they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.

the secret history gifs


And then there were a pair, boy and girl. I saw them together a great deal, and at first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until one day I saw them up close and realized they had to be siblings. Later I learned they were twins. They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave, as a couple of Flemish angels.

And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden – where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de rigueur – they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.

(happy birthday, nana!)


Inspired by Cat’s breathtaking edit.

And then there were a pair, boy and girl. I saw them together a great deal, and at first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until one day I saw them up close and realized they had to be siblings. Later I learned they were twins. Theylooked very much alike (in similarity less of lineament than of manner and bearing, a correspondence of gesture which bounced and echoed between them so that a blink seemed to reverberate, moments later, in a twitch of the other’s eyelid), with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave, as a couple of Flemish angels.

What makes a man submit to this humiliation?

Answer: he was born for this, being a doormat, licker, sniffer male boots! Unable to defend himself!

By the way , is it a man? No, it’s a useless epicene worm!! hahahahahaah

Stephen shrugged. ‘No. But you are quite mistaken, you know. I can assure you, speaking in all sober earnest, that he has no notion of it. He is not very sharp in some ways; and in his simple view of the world, paederasts are dangerous only to powder-monkeys and choir-boys, or to those epicene creatures that are to be found in Mediterranean brothels. I made a circuitous attempt at enlightening him a little, but he looked very knowing and said, “Don’t tell me about rears and vices; I have been in the Navy all my life.”’

'Then surely he must be wanting a little in penetration?’

'James, I trust there was no mens rea in that remark?’

—  Master and Commander, Patrick O’Brian

so i’m reading a preface for bacchae and it is so beautiful:
“In Dionysus, Euripides created a character unique in the history of tragedy. Hovering between divine majesty and human weakness, magnificence and pettiness– between male and female– the teasing, seductive, playful, epicene god is a great study in ambiguity. Above all, it is his effeminacy– the girlish curls, his womanishly delicate complexion, the passivity that stands in such contrast to Pentheus’s own aggressiveness– that both repels and, as we know, secretly attracts the insecure mortal; an attraction that becomes the vehicle of his destruction, as repressed desires so often do.”

anonymous asked:

Hello, you've probably been asked this before(this is tumblr after all) but i was just wondering, is there any exact gender neutral pronoun in neo-khuzdul? Because the only neutral you have in the personal pronoun document is 'it' which is also 'he' at the same time or 'khi'-one, which i'm not really sure can be used in this way? Thanks.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for asking this question. It is often a topic I end up discussing during classes, one that (sadly) often raises more questions… and one that is perhaps not addressed fully in any current document (added it now to my to-do list). Let me attempt to explain in full… [long post warning]

The first thing one should take into account is that the short translations of these pronouns to English, that are listed in the dictionaries, are not always entirely authoritative. Meaning that, depending on the context, interpretation of meaning, grammatical tense or mood we can see exceptions or different interpretations. 

Also, we need to be very clear what exactly we mean with “gender neutral”, as it can either mean a) “someone or something that is grammatically gender-less”, it can mean b) “either male OR female (his/her)”, or c) “someone or something of unknown gender”.  

Let’s have a closer look at all these possibilities in Neo-Khuzdul.

a) “someone or something that is grammatically gender-less”

In Neo-Khuzdul these words would perhaps be better described as “gender-free” or “epicene” as they lack any gender assignment and serve both as masculine and feminine. In my view this classification would be true for the vast majority of Neo-Khuzdul nouns. And seeing I have found no indisputable evidence of professor Tolkien adding any consistent gender assignment to Khuzdul nouns, I have always attempted to stay clear of assigning gender to any noun. 

Though linguist David Salo did list a few nouns that explicitly have a gender assignment - for instance: “anthân” - (meaning “sign(s), omen(s)”) is a feminine noun, no doubt inspired by gender assignment seen in other Semitic languages - I have deliberately NOT included this in my version of Neo-Khuzdul (hence you won’t find it in the dictionaries) As I believe it would make an already robust (and for the novice already complex) system overly complex with no distinct benefit to clarity or comprehensibility - nor would it mirror Tolkien’s original Khuzdul.  

So, with the above in mind, what pronoun would we use with such “epicene nouns”? 

In the majority of cases one would use the 3rd Person male/neutral “HU”.


  • “The fabric’s colour is red. Red is its colour” 
  • “Neked ankhâdhu baraz. Baraz ankhâdhu

In other words, if something or someone is not explicitly female (the vast majority of objects and concepts in Neo-Khuzdul) and you can easily replace it by “it” in English you’ll be sticking with this form nearly all the time.

b) “either male or female (his/her)” 

What if you are in a situation where you could address an object as either belonging to a male or female. In English we often use the “his/her” marker, especially in formal or official circumstances, like contracts or disclaimers.


  • “A trader must polish his/her items”
  • “Usjar tabtisi mat fakâtkhi.

Khi” (translated roughly as “one” or “one’s”) is the form to use here. It is the form we’ll use if we wish to stress something is either male or female, or can belong to either.  

The issue with the translation of “khi” as “one(’s)” is that in English it has quite formal connotations (particularly in American English).  Native English speakers often avoid it in favor of more colloquial alternatives such as the generic “you®”. When translating to or from Neo-Khuzdul one should forget the formal connotation associated with the pronoun “one” in English, as this is not present in Neo-Khuzdul. Try to think of it as “his/her” or “person’s” if the translation as “one(’s)” keeps feeling to formal for you.

Note however that when “khi” is associated with verbs, these are conjugated like the third person male/neutral, as we can see in the above example as well. Though the noun “usjar” (”trader”) is considered gender-free it uses “tabtisi” (”he/it polishes”) and not “tabtisiya” (”she polishes”).

c) “someone or something of unknown gender”.

This is likely what most people mean when they talk about “gender neutrality”. 


Let’s say we went for a walk, tripped, fell and are now hopelessly trapped in a pit, hoping a dwarf may pass by with a rope to save us.  We obviously don’t know if that dwarf-saviour would be a male or female. So, we have no way of knowing if it would be “his” or “her” rope (assuming our hero/heroine would carry a rope).

  • “The saviour’s rope.”
  • “Unsas jezerkhi.”

Sheesh, how did we miss that pit?   

Identical to b) we are going to use “khi”. The exact same logic applies here.

- Singular and Plural

In closing, the above examples specifically address singular forms, for plural “khi” can be replaced by “maku” (which translated literally as “anyone”), though would only be used if one were to stress the fact that there are multiple people involved.

I hope that clarifies it a bit.

Ever at your service,

The Dwarrow Scholar    


Life Study by Annie Leibovitz
In the couple’s Copenhagen studio, the artist Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne) poses for his wife, Gerda (Alicia Vikander). The actress describes the film as “a love story about learning to love yourself.”

Eddie Redmayne on Transforming into The Danish Girl 

The transformation starts with changes in the skin tone, soft pink on the upper cheeks, lipstick. The nose is a small challenge, but the peachy coloring is helpful, and the freckles are, too. Casual observers might see overpainting, or illusionism, or embellishment. To both the artist and the subject, though, the work is more akin to sculpture by relief: a technique of wearing away the well-known features of the male face to reveal the contours of a female countenance beneath.

It’s early Tuesday afternoon at London’s Elstree Studios, and, in a little dressing room just off the soundstage, Jan Sewell, a makeup artist with a chic white bob, is putting the final touches on Eddie Redmayne’s face. Redmayne and Sewell have worked together closely over the past few years—she exacted the slow, progressive changes that advanced Stephen Hawking’s ALS in The Theory of Everything, which earned Redmayne his first Academy, BAFTA, SAG, and Golden Globe awards this year—and they’ve developed what she calls “a complete shorthand.” Is the person who emerges from that wig too self-aware? Does this color distract from a delicate expression? The goal is to create a body that, working between the actual and the imagined, joins the actor’s form to a physique the character would know to be her own.

A few days earlier, in London, Redmayne finished shooting his last scenes for The Danish Girl, based on the 2000 historical novel by David Ebershoff. The movie was directed by Tom Hooper (Les Misérables, The King’s Speech), and it follows the real-life transition of Lili Elbe, born as Einar Wegener in late–nineteenth century Denmark, as she undergoes some of the very first sex-reassignment surgeries. The stages of Lili’s transformation, though, were more than a performance alone could convey, so Sewell helped define them, with a light touch. “If I put a lot of makeup on, he would look like a man with makeup,” she says. “I reshaped his mouth by taking away the corners and giving him more of a feminine pout.”

Now, in the makeup room, Sewell is brushing out a bold red wig. Many transgender women have said they experienced a period of hyperfeminization when they first appeared publicly as female—“It’s your first moment to express yourself,” Redmayne says—and Sewell decided that Lili would wear the loud wig at first. (Later, as the character settles into womanhood, Redmayne’s wigs grow more naturalistic.) Now he wears a tomato-red lip, though that, too, will be subdued as Lili finds herself.

“Can I drink, Jan? Can I have a coffee?” Redmayne asks, staring at his reflection. He looks vacant and empty: This body-between-bodies is not his, and he has not yet entered into character.

“Yes, I’ll redo the lips, don’t worry—we can’t have you fainting.” She smiles wryly, then steps back for a moment, as if scrutinizing a canvas. Fussily, she works over the edges of the wig. “Just a little powder, and then you’re good.”

Ebershoff’s novel concerns art as much as gender: Both Einar and his wife, Gerda (Alicia Vikander), were accomplished painters. He had found early success with his haunting, refined landscapes, and she, a portraitist, had studied under him at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts. Near the start of the movie, we see them working in their studio, she on her big, vivacious canvases and he on his small, controlled ones. Hurrying to finish a portrait of a young woman, Gerda asks Einar to pose as her female subject.

“Will you try on the stockings and shoes?”

“You will not tell anyone about this.”

The experience is, for Einar, more than a bizarre artistic task. He begins dressing as a woman often: first apparently in the spirit of creative support (Gerda’s portraits of Lili are her first great commercial success, allowing the couple to move to Paris) and later for self-realization. “What I read was an incredibly passionate love story about two artists,” Redmayne says; Vikander describes the film as “a love story about learning to love yourself.”

In France, Gerda is celebrated as a fashionable Art Nouveau painter. (In real life, she contributed work to early issues of Vogue.) Lili, now living as herself, abandons painting. In the film, she begins chastely courting a young man (played by Ben Whishaw); Gerda, for her part, grows close to one of Einar’s friends (Matthias Schoenaerts). Trying to realize her female body, Lili undergoes risky constructive surgeries without antibiotics. “She talks about her transition in terms of these two versions of herself—she needed to find a language at the time to say what it felt like,” Hooper says. In real life, Lili died, in her late 40s, of complications from her final operation.

Ebershoff, the author of two other acclaimed historical novels, is vice president and executive editor at Random House; he stumbled on Lili’s story while paging through a book on gender theory. “I remember thinking, Wait a minute—Lili Elbe is a pioneer, but I’ve never heard of her,” he says. “She was a woman who did something profoundly courageous and important, and yet when I first encountered her name, history had mostly forgotten her.”

The movie arrives in theaters this November, and the timing couldn’t be better. At a moment when the trans experience has its own powerful voices—Caitlyn Jenner,Laverne Cox, Transparent, Tangerine, About Ray—the movie begins the long project of historicizing trans life, tracing the roots of its cultural heritage and celebrating its complexities. “I think it’s wonderful that, through her, there’s been a spotlight on a civil rights movement,” Redmayne says of Jenner. “But her story is a very specific one, and there are many trans women, particularly women of color, who have seen other extremes.”

Rising from the makeup chair now, Redmayne heads into the studio, where he is to be photographed as Lili. The hardest moment in the course of shooting The Danish Girl, he says, was stepping onto the set in female form and sensing the eyes of gaffers and electricians gauging the persuasiveness of his appearance. “It was a feeling that, apparently, women are substantially more used to,” he says. “That was incredibly nerve-racking, and yet it must be nothing like what it’s like for a trans woman the first time she goes out.”

On the soundstage, someone has put on a recording of Chopin to set the haute bohème mood. Big, umbrellaed photography lamps are sounding their two-tone report—bang-squeak! bang-squeak!—and the soundstage flashes with each crack. Hooper is standing by, an observer in jeans and a tidy oxford shirt; Redmayne is costumed in a lush green-velvet dress.

“For the character of Einar, we had to make an Edwardian, very austere and severe, person trapped in his body,” Paco Delgado, the film’s costume designer, explains. “Then, when Lili was coming to life, we had to start opening up the palette—it became warmer. We were very lucky because the twenties offered a very good shape if you had an androgynous body.” Using period fabrics, Delgado, the designer for Pedro Almodóvar’s The Skin I Live In, created some loose, questingly epicene suits to help define the phases of Lili’s transition.

Redmayne is tall, but as a woman in heels, he is even taller. For a moment, with the lights on him and the lens gaping, he looks uncertain. Sewell rushes forward and makes a small adjustment: She lets loose a couple of curls of the wig, so they descend onto his face. As she darts back out of view, Redmayne alights on the edge of the couch, brings a hand up to his ear, and gazes searchingly toward the camera. He is no longer recognizable as a 33-year-old man; suddenly, the flash strikes his face and the transformation is complete.

Three weeks into shooting for The Danish Girl, Redmayne flew to L.A. from London. The next evening, around 5:00 a.m. British time, he clambered onto the stage of the Dolby Theater in a midnight-blue Alexander McQueen tuxedo to accept the Oscar for Best Actor from Cate Blanchett. “I will promise you I will look after him!” he said of the trophy in a breathless baritone, half Alec Guinness, half Bob Cratchit. On Monday, he touched down back in London and went directly from the airport to the studio. “We had some decorations on his trailer,” Vikander says. “He went straight to the set and just did this killer scene. I was so amazed about how he was able to close everything off and get tunnel vision and go right back to his part in the way he did. He’s all about the work, that guy.”

Given the accolades that flowed from Redmayne’s metamorphosis as Stephen Hawking, it’s tempting to see Lili as a role seeking to follow on that success. And yet his involvement in The Danish Girl long predated his Hawking performance. Hooper had thought of Redmayne from the start—“There’s a certain gender fluidity about Eddie,” he says; “he has this extraordinary translucency, this way his emotion can come through”—and passed him the screenplay when they worked together on Les Misérables.

“I read it while I was busy singing Marius, trying to get a note out of my poky vocal cords,” Redmayne explains over coffee one morning. We are sitting at a table by the window in Terry’s Cafe, a small, old-style luncheonette—red-checkered oilcloth, Cumberland sausage and eggs—in London’s Southwark district, where Redmayne has lived for nine years. He’s a loyal customer, friendly with Terry’s son, Austin, who has quietly upscaled his father’s menu to keep pace with the area’s development. Even in person, Redmayne is boyish. His chestnut hair is tousled upward, and he’s dressed in a black denim jacket, ecru T-shirt, slip-on sneakers. He speaks not in a stream of thought but in braids, dropping one idea mid-sentence to begin another, twisting that around a third, then taking up the first strand once more.

Lili is not the first woman Redmayne has played. He went from female roles at Eton to his big break on the professional London stage, as Viola in Twelfth Night, in 2002: “a cis­gender male playing a cis­gender female playing a cis­gender male!” But he found playing a trans woman in transition “completely different” than the cross-dressing of a Shakespeare comedy. “I was sort of astounded by my own ignorance,” he says. He undertook, along with the rest of the cast, a careful course of reading, starting from Man into Woman, a 1933 account of Lili’s life drawn from her papers (though it’s thought that Niels Hoyer, the editor, touched up the material). They read Jan Morris’s landmark memoir of transitioning, Conundrum(“a brilliant piece of writing—to my mind, it should be part of the established canon of great literature,” Hooper says), and works on gender theory. Redmayne made a special point of seeking the experiences of living trans people, too. “Across the board, all of the people from the trans community I’ve met have been so open with the idea that any question is a good one,” he says. “That sense of education is also what’s going on in the world at this moment.”

The research filtered up onto the screen. The changing chemistry between Lili and Gerda is the main delight of Hooper’s film, as Redmayne manages to go from an awkward, goose-necked man to a swanlike woman who is, at last, comfortable in her skin: “Tom allowed me freedom, so I could work out what angles worked, what angles didn’t. You’re not shooting chronologically. It’s a delicate thing.” Vikander, in perhaps her most astonishingly frank and intimate performance, makes Gerda as arresting a figure as Lili, and as brave a character, too. “I was sort of worried about finding someone who could match Eddie,” Hooper says. “Alicia was that person.”

After ordering our second coffees in paper cups (“Austin, can I borrow a spoon, mate?”), Redmayne and I set out along the gentle bend of Great Suffolk Street. “What I like about this neighborhood is that it’s so central—I can cycle into the West End when I’m doing theater—while at the same time it’s this extraordinary Dickensian part of London that had a lot of serious hits in the Blitz,” Redmayne says. “It has this strange mixture of old and new.”

Up Toulmin Street, he pauses to point out a brick primary school that’s in fact named after Charles Dickens. Nearby is the apartment where Redmayne was based throughout the early years of his career—a precocious stage ascent that carried him from The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia?, in 2004, to Richard II, even as he earned attention on the international screen for My Week with Marilyn. Today, Redmayne is near the front of a bevy of young British leading men (Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Sturridge, Ben Whishaw, and on) captivating Hollywood and shining onstage. Redmayne is currently preparing to play “a magic zoologist” in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, a screenplay by J. K. Rowling set in New York in the twenties—“I can’t really say anything about it,” he says archly as we round a corner—but he’s had a welcome respite since The Danish Girl wrapped, and time to spend with his wife, Hannah Bagshawe. It’s his first real experience of married home life since their wedding last December. “She’s amazing, Hannah, and has this wonderful mind,” he says. “She reads a lot of the work I’m doing and has a lot of insight into it.”

When he’s not savoring nuptial bliss, he paints, a hobby that recalls his time at Cambridge, where he read the history of art, writing his thesis on Yves Klein. “As you get older, you assume you get better, even though you don’t do it anymore,” he says. “So maybe twice a year, when I’m on holiday, I’ll sit and paint, and I think, I’ve definitely got better! When, in fact, no, I’ve got substantially worse.”

Yet visual art has never drifted far from his actor’s work. One of his favorite stage experiences, he says, was playing Mark Rothko’s assistant in Red, the 2009 play by John Logan for which Redmayne won a Tony. Lili and Gerda’s artistic relationship, in turn, accounted for a large part of his interest in The Danish Girl; the work of one of Redmayne’s favorite painters, the Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershøi, was hugely influential on Ebershoff as he was writing and, later, on Hooper and his production designer, Eve Stewart, as they worked out the austere blue-gray aesthetic of Einar and Gerda’s Danish apartment. But it was a photographic clue that unlocked the character. “The work of Lili when she was living as Einar was not particularly groundbreaking,” Redmayne says. “There’s this amazing photo of Einar wearing this really high starched collar. That was a sort of key for me. It was this exoskeleton.”

We’re wandering now through the Southwark streets, lined with brick flats and sleek office buildings. “Everything is under construction and looking so shit!” he says, sounding not entirely displeased. “What I love about this area is that it’s not an area that presents itself. It doesn’t thrust out of a facade. You sort of find it, slowly.”

Lili’s efforts to find herself carried her to consultations with the health professionals of the day, who diagnosed her as, variously, homosexual, schizophrenic, and confused. Today, as trans has become its own proud identity, we like to think that we were always so enlightened, but progress is new. When Ebershoff’s novel appeared, fifteen years ago, it was shelved, in one place, in the “erotica” section: A carefully researched account of one woman’s transition by an esteemed editor was thought too deviant for the literary-fiction shelves. “One of the things that’s helping change the culture are stories. Caitlyn Jenner’s story, Jennifer Finney Boylan’s story, Laverne Cox’s story, Renée Richards’s story, Chaz Bono’s story … the list grows almost every day,” Ebershoff says. “We cannot fully comprehend the positive influence of these stories. They land in the minds of people we will never know and touch them in ways we can never be made aware of.”

“People talk as if The Danish Girl is now an obvious film to make, which makes me laugh,” Hooper says. The screenplay, by Lucinda Coxon, circulated for years. (At various points, the adaptation was to star Marion Cotillard, Nicole Kidman,Gwyneth Paltrow, and Charlize Theron.) In the early stages of Hooper’s involvement, studios were so squeamish about the movie that it was hard to secure any funding. “It began as a small passion project,” he says.For him, though, as for his cast, the changing climate hasn’t meant the end of a cause. In the U.S., you can be fired in 31 states for being trans, Redmayne points out. “Through this film—through one life learned, and through this position of privilege in being able to talk to all these people—I hope I can be an advocate for trans issues, and an ally, in some way.” The Danish Girl is not a work of activism. But he hopes that it will offer a window onto the complex trans experience.

“In acting you have very little control or capacity for choice,” Redmayne says. “The only choice that I have had in this past couple of years—and really, it’s just happened—is ‘Is this a story that you’d like to be a part of?’ ” He pauses for a moment and then smiles. “Yeah.”


tsh characters; Charles Macaulay

They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave, as a couple of Flemish angels. And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden—where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de rigueur—they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.

More appropriate for Capricorn:

The Forth-Speaking of Oaoaaaoooo-ist

Dome of the Devil


I am the Order-without-Name. I am the Fount and the Baptism of Wisdom; yet the reverse is true also. Does this confuse? Is a goat to live in a god? I am Mirth and the Blood of the Beginning. Smile and laugh with me or else lurk. I am the Horned One and the horns of the One. Count and serve. I dwell in the House of the Mind of God and the Sun. I am the Lord of All Flesh and All Mind; the place between the two is Generation. I am in the Generations of Man, both of fire and of clay though Adamas is not redeemed in me. This is a mystery of Generation going back to the Tree and to the First Angel. Do not ask me to speak of it. The images already form in your mind. What can be seen by you is the Third. My Eye is not blind, only the Veil of Veils. I see all things because they are of me. Millions-of Eyes is another name. I see the Messenger but am not blinded by the Sun. Can you say the same? Climb thou the Mountain, master Crag and chasm and you will know me as Khem and Mentu. Where the Eagle soars is also my domain. 

Is there an eye in your hand? By the Averse, let Set be worshipped, and that secretly. There is endurance in me and in those who serve me. It is the Aeon betwixt the World Ages: LOGOSA. By the Thunder-crack and the Lightning bolt it declares what cannot be seen nor heard. It is the Holy Vibration that sustains the Void. Do not mistake it for Nothing, else fall, fall, fall into the Abyss never-ending. Open your hands. Raise them to the heavens. Open the Eye in the Hand and I will come to you by route of the Serpent of Desire. What do you wish?

 I am the Jinn within the genii. Ask …

 I am the Mask of Mendes. I am Goat and Ram; Faun and Man. I am Perfect, for No One knows who I am. I am the Coarse and Smooth always delectable laughter of the Fallen. Do not approach me with sorrow and evil in your hearts, else I will devour you and deliver you unto the shells. Ahh! Such a fate is Woman given unto Man.

 Now is granted the Vision of my House: My body is the Marriage of Earth and sky. Therefore find me in high places, and high places in the lowlands. In the enduring Aeon I am the Epicene made flesh: Woman-Man conjoined. From my breasts, the Milk of the Stars. From my phallus, the Spermatikos of Silence. This is the Seal of Set, for there is Life in Death. Rejoice then and be as brothers unto me! I am the future and past manifest Now. To those who fear I am Hell. To those who see I am Rapture.

 Release the Conjuration, for I return to the worldly palace. Meet me there and we shall make the Sign in blood together. For who has seen me and who has heard me is mine unto eternity.


From a Gathering of Masks by Robert Fitzgerald

The second virtue

Regarding the recent discourse with @argumate over the nature of strong women and weak men:

You’re never going to get people to celebrate weakness per se. That’s because strength, success, and virtue are good, while weakness, failure, and degeneracy are bad, and everyone knows this. There are basically no exceptions to this. People might support or sympathize with weak failures, but they don’t actually celebrate them, and any apparent examples to the contrary are usually examples of people trying to recenter the narrative around a different kind of success. The classical example of this is the martyr, who appears to be a total loser executed by the state as a criminal, but whose loserdom is secretly a way of becoming a superhero in the afterlife.

So let’s talk about different kinds of success.

Back in Ye Olden Dayes (about which I am going to generalize wildly, but hopefully readers will recognize a true picture in the broad strokes I’m about to paint), there were two different kinds of virtue. There was masculine virtue, which was about self-sufficiency and breadwinning and competition, and then there was feminine virtue, which was about meekness and domesticity and support. The important thing to note here is that both of them were recognized as virtue: a woman who was meek and unambitious and didn’t work but stayed home to sew was not a failure, but rather a perfectly valid exemplar of femininity.

But we know the story: the feminists saw this and decided that feminine virtue sucked, and they wanted to do masculine virtue instead. And so for nearly 50 years now we’ve had a sustained attack on the old feminine virtue, and a valorization of masculine virtue as simple virtue, full stop.

Again, most of us know this. Any time you read an article about a “strong woman” or a feminist icon, you can be sure that it’ll be about a woman excelling in a traditionally masculine endeavor. There is occasional pushback against this in the form of articles headline “I can too be a feminist and a stay-at-home-Mom”, but these are vastly outnumbered by the articles treating traditional feminine pursuits as contemptible, and making feminine virtue a failure state of masculine virtue. Even the discourse about “toxic masculinity” follows this pattern: under the current regime, those aspects of the old masculine ideal which can’t plausibly be embodied by a women are declared “toxic”, so that what’s left can better serve as the single, universal, epicene Virtue.

Now, to bring this back to “weak men”: the problem is that you can never really valorize weakness itself, as I mentioned above. At best you can provide a second axis of virtue for those who can’t or won’t compete on the first axis. So if we’re going to try and promote weak men, we have to identify an alternate kind of virtue that they could have—and here we’re going to have a problem. The most readily available alternate conception of virtue we have in our culture is the old feminine ideal, which has been under attack for half a century, and will be very hard to reabilitate. Even if you declared, “The qualities submission and domesticity are totally non-gendered now, it’s okay, you can do those things and no one will think you’re a loser,” no one would believe you, and their gendered quality would never really go away.

The other way out is to build an alternate conception of virtue from the ground up. But that’s a project that takes decades, and I don’t see anyone who’s really interested in the project right now.