The Imperial Hotel

The Magician fixed Walter with a gaze that was both intimidating and uncanny. The large room had filled up since Walter’s arrival and was full of young men and women. A pianist played and one or two couples moved onto the floor dancing.
How could he have zeroed in on his contact without even a glance at anyone else? Walter had taken his eye off the man for a second and now couldn’t see him… The music seemed to speed up and couples swirled like dervishes, throwing back their heads in great gusts of laughter. A violinist dressed in 18th century wig and frockcoat played with demonic speed. Champagne bottles popped like artillery shells as toffs in tops hats and spats quaffed together and became like Goebbels’ propaganda cartoons of capitalist swine, their fleshy faces morphing into piggy snouts, grunting and snuffling. A beautiful young woman had appeared on top of the grand piano and danced an obscene but enthralling striptease. Walter suspected he’d been drugged. Since the appearance then disappearance of  the magician he was struggling to cope with an hallucinogenic assault on his senses. He tore his eyes from the lithe young woman who was now writhing on the piano, a satyr advancing on her with purpose. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes, trying to regain some anchor to reality but when he lifted his head the scene had become even more bizarre. He looked with horror as a creature in a black SS uniform with the head of an owl gobbled down a tiny little man with only the hooked nose of a caricature Jew yet to be devoured. Men and women in wigs and white lead powder make up obscured themselves behind sinister masks and swayed in unison. The music was now frenzied and did not sound like anything Walter had ever heard. “All you need is love, love, love is all you need” sang a man with Jesus hair and Himmler glasses.
Little grey humanoids with overlarge heads and black insect eyes gabbled and pointed and laughed as a fight broke out between a seven foot tall ogre in a leopard skin robe and a black woman almost as tall and wearing only a raw leather holster. She slipped out the revolver like a quick draw artist, pressed the gun against the giants forehead and pulled the trigger; a banner fell from the barrel “BANG!” it said. The huge man fell to the floor before dissolving into a sticky black substance to which the nearest spectators ran and scooped it up with knives and dinner plates… there was more but Walter was lost,  and had no language left to describe what he was seeing. He must have blacked out. He awoke as if he’d been having a terrible nightmare, expecting to find himself in his bed at the guest house. He was, however, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to ‘The Imperial Hotel’ and laid out on a chaise-lounge.
“Guten Morgen Standardfuhrer Kluge” Walter turned to see the man who had blown his cover, he guessed either Gestapo or British MI6 with guns. He found himself looking at an old grey haired man, dressed in Harris tweed. It was the magician…

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Predictions.

I see the holographic future with life size bio units providing companionship and entertainment. Instant global communication through the new language translator, allowing us to share information as never before. The network of light is rhyzohmatically spreading. “You can’t stop an idea”.

She told me she was writing predictions on parchment and sealing them with wax and the Thosis seal. Seal! Saroth’s spirit animal… did she?

So, boundaries are dissolving nicely and reality with it. “Talk about mandala effect!”

“It’s Mandella”

Words invoke so I invoke with words. Images evoke so I evoke with paintings and symbols. “A picture tells a hundred stories!”

“It’s a thousand, isn’t it?”.

So the controllers have lost their black lodge hoodoo and are believed to be hiding in a cave complex in New Aberdeen. Our psychic sniffer dogs are trained to pick up the astral trails of louche…

Demons and Malefactors on the Astral Plane, (as relating to the psychedelic experience).

To have been lazy, neglecting a course of ritual magick, putting off LBRPs because you work all the time… then taking a large dose of psilocybin can feel like suddenly being dropped into very deep and murky waters.

Magick and mushrooms should be very good friends. Magick provides the perfect framework for navigating the landscape the mushroom provides. A big trip, like near death O.B.E.s, seems to mirror the beliefs and expectations of the experiencer, to an extent, but more importantly there is something larger at play. The elevated state of consciousness generated by psilocybin is not the DMT flash but a prolonged journey into the world of demons and angels and a glimpse into the vaults of heaven.

The demons and low lives swarm around you when you’re first plunged into that black formless ocean. As you struggle to cope with the sudden transition you become aware of others around you. Like Interzonian street hawkers they see you, a foreigner. “Hey I can get you outta here man, jusst help me a li’l”. They come in skeletal, crow faced, “I can get you to the next level kid just sign here”. I saw a huge mantid type creature once, it wore a tiny blue cloak. It only wanted to observe so I said sure, why not?

The last time the mushroom said “Come before me naked”, which I took to mean, ditch the baggage. “You are your own Mother & Father… rebirth yourself!”. So I, at the highest level of i-ness became utterly free and rose higher still… I saw crystalline structures imposed on the architecture of the room with my eyes open.

An Apology to the Christian Magic Community.

I realise it’s too little too late but I’d like to sincerely apologise for my recent livestream. I was generously invited into the Christian magic community and it must have seemed like I turned on the faith and spoke disrespecfully.
Although I meant to describe my personal struggle with Christianity I see now that I insulted the community that had been accepting and kind to me. This was not my intention but it was the result. I’m very sorry to anyone who was upset by what I said.

Samhain, The Dark Feast. (Cut-Up)

img_20180715_0440311700233031.jpgSpiral out in fractal forms. Fractal forms of Thosis, hurling a gibberish language at the Moon… “Ravished every hour”. We mediate experience through language, symbols are as Angels and Demons, is as the Hrumanchis, the Ape of Invocation… of BELAROTH and THOSIS! And THOSIS! It’s skin I sloughed my Misrule. Of Misrule. Ancestor Spirits and the three dimensional world. Dimensional world. Angels Wild Hunt! Wild Hunt! Barbarous names are murky energies and spider beings language at the Moon. The Moon. I haven’t been fed. Been fed. The Ancestor Spirits cry out for the realised. Everything I’d been on  that night of the up to that moment had ego and Lunar -Saturnian body. Desolate. Body, Desolate.

The Forgotten Old Ones uttered in Places of the Throwing words at concepts from dimensions beyond normal and unspeakable rites! Unspeakable rites! Woden leads all.  I thought it the lower astrals and spirits and other people’s who you know counts… You spirits. “You spirits”. In the shamanscape it’s web is an apt metaphor not just what you know, tongues to speak! To speak! This is communication here. Communication here. The beings known primate behaviour was a reversal. Truly the Kali Yuga! Kali Yuga! Signs, shapes, colours and scent. And scent. Understood from three dimensions. Three dimensions.

The Shades of the Dead, hail undiluted meaning! Undiluted meaning! Time is BABALON. The Forces of Darkness loosed with its fragile human primatism and Hunger! And Hunger! Dark Satanic temples saw the Ages of Man. Ancient Gods, Great Old Ones, a silly monkey for daring huge cosmic forces… My egoic thinks it was smart. Was smart. Unfolding like the thousand petalled, contacted through precise correspondence of being crushed and compressed and stood for. Stood for.

It was not some friends  attempt to make flat lotus, like a snake shedding… Attention of the Living… The Living, The Howling Forgotten Spirits of Cold. The most powerful form of “I was a lie”. I was and I saw my self the non verbal realm of Wise or Holy. Or Holy. It was shamanic interconnectedness. Shamanic interconnectedness. Relationships with people, human consciousness cannot be sacrament that allows us to enter you who have no centre of a tangle of and palaces of The Lords. The Lords.

Samhain the Dark Feast. (Part One)

Invocation of BELAROTH and THOSIS!

Ancient Gods, Great Old Ones, Howling Forgotten Spirits of Cold and Hunger! Dark Satanic temples and palaces of The Lords of Misrule. Ancestor Spirits and Shades of the Dead, hail to you who have no tongues to speak! IPSOS, THOSIS!

This is truly the Kali Yuga! I saw the Ages of Wo/Man spiral out in fractal forms. Unfolding like the thousand petalled lotus. Like a snake with a single eye, shedding it’s skin… I sloughed my language/identity and Lunar -Saturnian body, with its fragile human primatism and I saw my self as the Cynaphelous, the Ape of Thosis, hurling a gibberish language at the Moon.

I realised that everything I’d been up to that moment had been a lie… I was being crushed and compressed by huge cosmic forces. Torn apart and dismembered. I had to die before shamanic rebirth!

My egoic primate behaviour was a reversal of all it thought it stood for. It was not Wise or Holy; throwing words at concepts in an attempt to make flat the three dimensional, multi-textured world of experience.

Angels are expressions of Divinity beyond normal human consciousness and cannot be understood from three dimensions. The sacrament allows us to enter the non verbal realm of undiluted meaning. Time is BABALON “Ravished every hour”. We mediate experience through language, symbols are meta-language. The beings known as Angels and Demons are contacted through precise correspondence of signs, shapes, colours and scent.

In the lower astrals are murky energies and spider beings and unspeakable rites! Woden leads the Forces of Darkness loosed on the night of the Wild Hunt! Barbarous names are uttered in Places of the Desolate. The Forgotten Old Ones haven’t been fed. The Ancestor Spirits cry out for the Attention of the Living.

The web is an apt metaphor for I was at the centre of a tangle of loving interconnectedness. Relationships with people and spirits and other people’s spirits. In the shamanscape it’s not just what you know, who you know counts… “You got some friends here boy” said the dreadlocked Demon guard.

Pillars of Mercy and Severity. Explode the dialectic. Every idea contains it’s opposite. By smashing opposing qualities together we birth our own Apocalypse, like Ezekiel and Enoch I saw the wheels of Fire and the Terrible countenance of God! I saw letters of flaming Hebrew and Sanskrit. I made direct contact with the Neters of Time, Gravity, Energy itself!

I dined with Dark companions Baphomet, Pan, Horned Gods of the Forest and the Mountain top. I saw The Devil as Capricornus, the Leaping Goat and Danced at the Witches Sabbat. I made love to the Crone Hekate, who became beautiful and vivacious as we embraced.

The Spider Being was no mere astral parasite but a terrible Gigeresque monster with double jaws and gnashing teeth. Pure malevolence and hatred. Ghostly skulls, animal and human, with ragged jaws try to sound but have no tongues, a spectral horse frozen in the silent scream of a Picasso’s ‘Guernica’. Witches burned at the stake make furious and deadly curses. I was being pulled apart by the monstrous immutable Laws and Forces of the Qlippoth. Unbalanced energy and astral shells swirled around me. I had to reach the other side of Daath!

I was rising, blue white flashes were like an electrical storm behind my eyes. “Everything is Holy!” I saw the fractal, geometric Machinery of the Universe, vast and inhuman and no God here. Whatever sparked this terrible, astonishing chain of events is beyond primate understanding. I understood how polarity is the engine of creation in a continuum, black, white, negative, positive, the terrific energy of opposites!

I was getting lighter, leaving the lower astrals and going to the Plane of Mystery. I saw that all systems of attainment were equal and valid. I understood in images and a kind of body electricity that made an audible humming sound. I tried to match the tone and this lifted me even further to a place of complete non being. A Samhadi I think. The uniting of subject and object which occurs as the shell ‘personality’ dissolves and the ego, for a timeless nano second is shed. I had to birth the Orphic egg. Become my Solar Self. “The quickest way is straight up” said the voice of what could be my Daimon…