“Reading the words gleamed [sic] from this hypersigil of a book will tear down the veil and hand you a pair of 4th dimensional binoculars.”
Good times, and truthfully the only reason I’m comparing it to The Invisibles in the first place has to do with me accidentally putting it out on the 20th anniversary of its release and all. Well, and the whole Occult “alien” thing. Here’s the part where I try to sell you on it with words:
It could be said that I didn’t choose the Occult, the Occult chose me. It’s a long story and you’ll have to read the book, but let’s just say that some sort of fifth dimensional weirdo showed up in my room one day and broke a primal thought sequence deep within me. The linguistic pattern virus installed in our conscious operating systems that insists on dividing the world into convenient shades of binary simplicity was instantaneously disabled. I knew I had psychic abilities, visionary schizophrenic encounters, supernormal powers or whatever you want to call them. But I also grew up in suburban Ohio playing basketball, drinking beer, and lusting after women in church. How on earth could these two worlds be reconciled, conjoined into one. According to Graham Hancock, shamanic cultures refer to this “real vs. unreal” binary thought disabling exercise as “submission to a higher order of knowing” and the other thing that this far out being telepathically imparted on me that day was that I had to start practicing magick. With a “k”. The kind Robert Anton Wilson got into when he went off the deep end studying Crowley on acid.
“Hash Based Sex Tantra” as he called it. Come to think of it, why did I spend half my free time taking bong rips, jerking off, and watching internet porn? Maybe there was something to this slacker path I was treading instinctively. It was a means to escape the tedium of modern society after all. I’d only sprung for cable internet a few years prior and it’s amazing how quickly that soft addiction spiraled. Maybe what the universe was telling me was: “Hey, since you’re too undisciplined for the other spiritual practices you’ve read about like remote viewing and regular sober meditation, how about sex magick? You’re pretty much doing it anyway. Just try to increasingly focus on the primal desire for trancendent escape. When you saw Terrence Mckenna lecture, he did go on and on about the supreme importance of ganj-i-tation now, didn’t he?” Sure enough, not long after I started casting sigils (or spells if you must insist), everything in my life turned around. I pretty much instantly:
• Had psychick software updates installed in my internal soul structure.
• Changed careers for my financial benefit.
• Met my future wife and induced a sex transmission in her where I showed her my “godface”.
• Developed a personal relationship with Christ. No, really.
• Resisted the temptations of a daemonic guardian entity who quite hilariously taught me how to properly brush my teeth.
• Summoned my Holy Guardian Angel who educated me on the metaphorical nature of the Holy Trinity and how it relates to third, fourth, and fifth dimensional timespace perception.
• Performed a Winter Solstice themed acid ritual where I received an internal transmission regarding the pressing importance of legalizing psychedelic drugs and keeping a magick journal. Read all these stories and more true believers, but make no mistake: I am trying to drive you insane. Pleasantly insane. GODSPEED.
Sound intriguing? Here’s where I pass the plate Disinfonauts, there are 100 numbered limited editions of this thing autographed and psychically ritualized by yours truly that you can buy here for a whole 11 bucks (shipping and handling included, $21 outside the US).
I’ll be back next week with some psychedelic video sermonizing on the nature of Occult alien contact. Stay stoned and keep it surreal and all that good shit tripsters.
Back Book Jacket:
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