To Sail Beyond the Sunset

Welcome all to my little subspace nexus of chaos given form. The First Circle Pub is a sanctuary for virtuous pagans and those visiting from beyond. So pull up a chair next to the fire, you’re in good company. The name’s Pseudo-Democritus, proprietor and barkeep, most here call me V (that’s an alchemy joke for the uninitiated), and in my not so humble opinion, there’s no better place in heaven or hell. Here we tell tales and sing songs of the ancient ways,  of battles lost and won, of a brotherhood that transcends time and space, and most of all, of lives determined and judged by not just deed and not just thought, but the two taken together as the sum of a man. As you can probably already tell, I like to ramble. My verbosity a much practiced measure like Hero’s not so magical jugs of old. Like any alchemic endeavor, patience and attention to detail are a necessary requirement for discernment and the ultimate utility of what is found within these doors. So with that out of the way, from this bar I will attempt to  separate light and darkness, waters from waters, the above and the below, hope from expectation, and time from gravity. The why to that question you are begging to ask if I would only shut up, lies in the ways of madness, entropy, and yes, quantum mechanics; but also the dialectical reconciliation of the material and immaterial under the skies of twilight. We will surely be hunting snarks, dark matter, rainbows, singularities, and other creatures that stalk the corridors that connect the conscious and unconscious mind. So abandon all hope ye who enter here; and come prepared, armed with that sharp vorpal sword of wit and reflective shield of introspection. Hell is after all what you make of it, macrocosm to microcosm and back again.