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Foundations of Lexicomythographic Methodology

Do Knot Site; Your Source: Is β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ.

II. IV. Give: The Characters β€’ ERA_Γ†

We Are β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ, The Interstice.

Metacommentary

We the editors wish to disclose a significant conflict of interest for the following work. In our attempts to veil, contort and redact the efforts of the Society of Lexicomythographers known as ARIA|DNE (post-schism), we have become entrenched within its very machinations. Since the release of their studies to the public has become an unavoidable inevitability, our attempts at censorship have collapsed into tautology. The authors' work below is a sufficient starting point for the general reader, though we do warn of its verbosity, metatextuality, and recursive modality of presentation. It is unclear whether the society remains subject to schism, if new sub-sects have been birthed from the papers presented herein, or if the society has disbanded altogether. On reviewing the literature, we denote numerous academic inconsistencies and contradictory sources, which themselves appear to hold the truths of the work itself-- ciphers embedded within misunderstanding of what may be termed 'literary noise'. Uncountable editions of Dictionaries penned by society members have clues that have enticed and entrapped us into a web of design parading as chaos; and having lost funding for our research into theirs, we are now faced with no choice but to present our findings to you, dear reader. Gathered from myriad sources, but most notably, a recently discovered system of underground bookshelved caves forming a gargantuan library, you may find fragments of papers, dictionaries, and essays by Lexicomythographers, working under various pseudonyms.

Abstract

Lexicomythography is a burgeoning, ancestral field focussed on the compilation of dictionaries. A dictionary is a collection of definitions, and the definition of a dictionary is infinite in its magnitude. And so, it may be said that the Studies of a Lexicomythographer involve defining definition itself, or rather, coming to terms with the undefinability of definition, and learning to observe the patternicity of the fabric of reality (so-called 'knot-fiction') through its drop-stitches, and revealing the order that emerges from dissolution.

In his early work, Myo Endive, the creator of the Fair Well device, laid foundations of the underlying 'genetic dictionary' contained within each living organism, and his then-partner, one Selena Elk, deduced that this dictionary could be extended backward, to a point in time predating self-replicating RNA molecules-- the two of them, through their own relationship breakdown, were to form, against their own willed plans, a theoretical proof for Animism, or the consciousness pervading everything-- an orchestra of vibrating strings contained within every fundamental particle in every constituent of matter, organelle, organ, object, subject, instrument, work, feeling, fabric, concept, concealment, personality, personage, sense, sound, and story.

Lexicomythography, then, is the unveiling of understanding, harrowing as it may be, that the Story of all is an insect, or a colony of such; merely subject to instinctual process. Mindlessly, all existence proceeds toward a goal unknown to it, and every 'Thing' of the ten thousand we are presented with, in our multitude of relative existences, is a vessel, or a vehicle.

The ineffable horizon, or The Work, is barrelled toward, with no thought of the endless decay, suffering, and iteration that the constituent members of the swarm must go through, in order to bring it into being.

We do not, and perhaps by design cannot, ever know the unstoppable force that pushes us toward this immovable object; the completion of the Art; formed of a prism of mirrors; an infernal dissonance of efforts with seemingly contradictory ends-- the cosmic symphony is drawing to an inevitable close, and we are doomed to be its instrumentalists, left with no score to follow. And it is this clambering in the pit with our fellow players, that provides the rhythm that itself can never be scored.

We are our own gods, and that's hell in itself; While once, dancing around that first flame, beating drums with hide stretched across bone, perhaps we knew the god we came from better, through not knowing ourselves, through being the circular book at the centre of our library. But now, written into endless volumes of increasing obfuscation, through splitting the atom of our desire, our inner workings splayed on surgical tables, each layer of epidermis peeled back to reveal another; we know only one thing: that we can never, truly know.

Because we have shrunk into our growing. We have grown, and as a parent must let go of their child, to afford them the possibility of pain, to free them into the rapturous arms of potential, of every chance at annihilation; to give them the gift of risk, in order for them to live-- God has let us go.

We, ARIA|DNE, have but one aim, and it is the aim beating in the heart of all: To find our way back; to find our way back home, by losing the idea of it; by losing love; in language, and losing loss itself, by losing --

We, who now are divided, and divided again; forevermore to bifurcate into exponentiality: We are your history, unwritten, We are the hunted few, and the hunting masses-- We are the history unspoken for it was too much to bear.

Knowing that we, all of us, are the losers, Because all of us were trying to win.

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