The Trigyalon Complex by R.K. Galvez (reading diary txt) 📕

time he was still undergoing the surgery...]... It was almost, in a weird way, like a commune existence...It gets even more boring, unfortunately....... I only say that, as I went to join various dubious groups - some even linked to some radical Quakerism - based around the UK...

…I got really interested in Thelemic studies [consult www.shemesh.oto-uk.org , I completely recommend it] and hermetic law... I am still very much interested, but not as so eagerly as before...I've seen some strange things, although I still adhere to some of the solstice rituals, in a quasi-pagan corrupted fashion, akin to the teachings of Papus and I deeply respect Vesak; but I do not do as many now, since I'm feeling the side-effects of my highly polluted brain and body -- caused by various excesses -- in the search for enlightenment and transcendental soul expansion that I am now trying to atone for......

…I still have profound moments of transcendental meditative experiences, or a peaceful trance and some are very awesome, chilled out euphoria, just like any decent flashback...But I don't travel much as my meds really take it out of me, so I'm paying the price for these exploits, as now I'm on welfare [I've been on it for a while now, almost five years…] and it'll be a long time before any employer wants to contact me, particularly with my psychological history.......So I am stuck on welfare and cannot get free...It's depressing but the U.K. remains a bit backward like that...Half the time, I'm not really here, I'm in another world, stuck in my mind....I prefer it there sometimes; in my reveries, my altered states...Obviously, I thought I'd be completely honest with you, as you were with me, so it's only fair as I don't want to give the impression that I'm some kind of rich kid either....I'm sorry for going on for so long; time doesn't really register the same way with me...But thanks for your friendship and I hope to hear a lot more from you...

Best wishes, ******,

 

[…Censored…]

 

P.S. That was the last time I heard from {censored} ever again…

 

9. Astro-Gastro-Jump Bump. (Via Turnpike Lane)

 

“I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for landlords, who, as they have already devoured most of the parents, seem to have the best title to children.” Mr J Swift…

 

…Les came around on the crowded bus; his disturbing dream had ended...He thought to himself: who was that letter to again?... It did not matter; he was no flat white...His brow was sweaty....He looked at his garments; he was covered in a strange, sticky, mucus…Ectoplasm or old gravy…Les sampled the fine delight and found that it tasted quite nice…

 

…Les took his stilettos off...It was a bad time to be wearing them; his mascara was running; he was getting a bit corny again...He couldn't do his make-up on public transport could he?...However, he did not like getting corns, but realized it was part of a well-heeled life... He preferred getting the odd corn over a sore rectum any day of the week… His mind transported into another void....A scorched planet; he was re-living through someone else. What anus had he vanished up this time, he queried...

 

…Parsons looked at the scorched earth...The planet was not worth saving he thought. It was shame he had to return to London Bridge; no-one would never find this realm again. He felt smug at having been the only human too discover this realm.

 

It was not like any other realm. It had been populated by tiny people made up of detritus. they really were shit people. Tiny people of some weird alien excrement. Parsons wanted to study them more closely.

 

The tiny detritus people were not very intelligent and had killed each other after capturing Parsons. He survived by eating them and storing their bodies to absorb the dew. He had no idea where his partner, Agent Hubbard, had vanished to. He had been absorbed in a excrement storm shortly after Parsons made his escape to this realm.

 

Parsons sniggered. He felt like a god here. He was able to use the remaining muck folk for his own devices. They had no realm to hide in now. He decided they needed to start building a primitive tyme-craft so they were able to leave the realm. Parsons had calculated a C.O.G. bus would break open this portal again in the next seventeen years. It was more than enough time to build an army and attack earth.

 

Parsons secretly hated Earth. He had been searching for other worlds for a long time. He wished he had brought his android sex toy along for the ride. The muck people did not respond to human intercourse too well. Parsons had many perversions so the muck people were amazed by his depravity. Parsons thought they would like the dirty stuff but they were, like pigs, surprisingly clean. How can an entity made of dirt take a clean shower? It was mind over matter. Parsons was pleased he was unchallenged here…

 

**

 

…Goodmann looked out of the window. He never had liked this earth-realm. His charred flesh and burning eyes had made him stand out. He had decided to not bother using his Rorschach disguise. It was redundant. He stuck to dressing like a demon. He did have a midget in tight silver trousers trying to work it a l a pop tart star…His demon name was Dameon. It was something strictly electro-cool for the masses…New old was all the rage, as the Propellerheads had predicted…

 

Goodnow, however, had prided himself on being tuned in….To what that was the main question…He liked being on the frequented wavelengths of the subversive; he did not care which one. His long flowing golden locks had made him the envy of C.O.G. He was a good guy really; he had to leave that memo though. If he wanted to save the world, he had to go A.W.O.L. with Goodmann.

 

"I don't know if I can trust you", said Goodnow to Goodmann.

 

Goodmann laughed.

 

"You will," replied Goodmann.

 

"What's the point in having these offices here? You don't even care about this world, do you?" Goodnow asked.

 

Goodmann sniggered.

 

"Soon my dandy agent friend, you will have the chance to save all worlds. You want that?"

 

"I do. I want the ultimate happiness. I will make the bargain if it means my own eternal suffering," said Goodnow.

 

Goodmann laughed. His plan was coming into effect. They were both going to break away from the C.O.G. The final stage to the Babalon project was forming, just as Hubbard predicted. Goodmann regretted not freezing Hubbard before his premature trip to the other side.

 

"I don't like these mouldy dust worlds," Goodnow groaned. "Too much heat."

 

Goodmann laughed. Heat would be the last thing Goodnow would need to worry about. He hated these closet fantasy junkies.

 

…Jack looked up and saw that this world was burning; it had it. It was definitely on the way out. The sun had scorched the sky, making the sky look like a lava flow. Someone was playing with some old radio frequencies causing the static to merge with the wind. The wind was now static interference. It was horrifying to those not schooled in the vast art of occult science. Love is the law for eternity; Jack never realized this.

 

What larks! Jack was a farm boy here on 67XTY….He had lots of time to examine his queer penis nodule and play strange sex games with the flora and fauna. It was not a clear cut time. It always had been strange for Jack; he also found that he didn't like being in his body. It was a weird feeling. He wanted to be a man, but he felt uncomfortable in the human form. He never discovered why he felt this way. Maybe he was born this way...Who knows......

 

...You know what? I am sure this wraith-world was near Balham and recently twinned with the Crystal Ops room at Cheviot Close.

 

Professor Childchrist would be pleased with him, thought Jack, in some whimsical eternal reverie.

 

Jack had got out of the C.O.G. call centre, abandoning dull research calls, for more frontline work. He always wanted to find the mutants. He was not pleased about the ten Galactic Bonds an hour. Though one Galactic Bond equated to twelve thousand infinite hours worked; I don't think it was able to be converted into human coinage. He wondered if he was better on ten cents an hour at the [censored]… 

 

…Therefore, Jack was a bit strapped for cash on our earth. He tried his hand as a door-to-door salesman; he would sell anything, sometimes he was a bit forceful but he wanted to live his dream of a fully licensed and well-funded private investigator. The settlements here had started turning to bubbling mould and there seemed to be no law and order. Jack had jumped at the chance to save this world, though it looked like it was beyond saving. It was beyond saving. Jack did not realize how pointless sit all was; he heard a small demonic laugh emanating in the back of his mind...It was Goodmann, his supervisor. His own agency had sacrificed him.

 

Jack felt his skin bubbling, slowly turning to liquid flesh. Jack had experienced this before; he was not scared; he looked himself in the boiling time capsule – Jack had a good feeling that he would be well preserved there. It was more like a broom cupboard. He was sick of going back in the closet but sometimes you have to take the fantasy junkies way out...And just keep coming out!

 

As Jack bubbled away, his skin slowly evaporating, he noticed that he might be mutating. He needed something to take it his mind off this occurrence. He knew he had been here before and placed an old copy of pulp stories under the time capsule's toilet facility. They turned out to be there with a pair of Hawkwind tickets from 1974.

 

"Norky, you shouldn't have done that," smiled Jack.

 

He cried; he knew he would live again… It was a beautiful moment of clarity…This was the extract that Jack Slack read before melting in to liquid flesh...    

 

...Out Of Darkness Cometh Light…

by Tommy Tellman....

 

Chapter 1: Anti-prologue/ Neat American Resolution Crisis.

 

There were some people called the Moorsooniz. They were not very nice. They lived on a planet called 12XCEDM&M. It was a fantasy junk planet in deep darkspace, near [censored], forty-thousand light years away. It was easy to travel: just think, project, that’s it… Apparently, it was full of dead dreams, the undead chill, and lost realms of woe. It was a wraith planet that existed near Frinton-on-sea. I'm sure you could get there via Liverpool Street….

 

…I am sure you can get there without moving. As it was documented by the COG scanners, it was all quiet one day when I saw my friend attempt to save this playfully foul world. He was testing a new food stuff which was synthesized from alien maggot excrement.

 

These alien maggots were once humans. They had mutated. I supposed they were mutated alien maggots. What made them alien was they had been blasted into space by a panicked government agent called Titi Titbull.

 

It was a codename, of course. Her real name was [censored]… Her cover was blown a long time ago. She might have been called Elaine. She moonlighted as the global pop-porn sensation, LaDy BuBa HoTek. She was a bit strange; controversial re-invention followed her many lives; it was so brave when millions of innocents perished each day: not many could go onstage, and live to the world, to millions every night via webcam, and pretend to be a whore… She was born in 1867, briefly killed in 1967, but successfully resurrected in 1968; she had never worked alongside any other adepts. According the crisis reports, she was some kind of lifeforce that was able to manipulate the standard resurrection trick.

 

Titi felt it best to decide these things. She had been in many films where she angrily masturbated. Rubbing it out was the technical term, but she found these hipster terms