The Labyrinth of Abraxas Chapter Seven

The narrow road back to Dublin winded through the valleys revealing sudden drops of green fields and tiny cottages spread like outposts of human life in the wild open expanse. It was always hard to think of Ireland as a small country when travelling through the countryside, it felt as though it could roll on forever. The slow descent to Dublin was welcome for the extra moments it brought to finish the decompression sequence that had begun in the homestead. As soon as the bus crossed into the Pale another reality would rapidly surround me as the bus joined the motorway that flowed right into the city centre.

I was willing to leave my mother’s memories to her, there was nothing more to be gained from trying to resurrect the past, but I could not resist the thought my father had his own memories to be explored. I made the sudden choice to hop off the bus in the depth of the flat suburban landscape before the bus reached the city. I could easily walk to my father’s small suburban home from the motorway. He was pleasantly shocked to open the door to my grimacing face that failed to fix its mask in place in time.

“How have you been son?” He asked as he hobbled around moving newspapers and books from his sofa, I was meandering around the bright living room overlooking the garden casually inspecting the photos he kept along the wall. The pictures of me and my sister as children, the picture of him and my mother on their wedding day, they were like fractured echoes of an ancient time of happiness.

“I’m ok, I’m just back in Dublin… thought I’d drop in.” I smiled.

“It’s great to see you.” He said and stood there, hovering in front of me, waiting for something to happen or be said. I sat down.

“Yeah, it’s been awhile… I was passing by… I’d been staying at mums.”

“I know… how is she?”

“Oh good, good… good to catch up and everything… I had to sort out some things… it’s been busy… you know it was good to have the chance to ask her about Brian… y’know I’d been over to help sort some of his things a while ago.” I thought it was best to begin right away, the small talk would be excruciatingly awful if we tried to remain in each other’s company without a definite purpose.

“Oh Brian, yes of course.” He looked away.

“I had the chance to go to Notting Hill… and his stuff was going to go to the removal men… I had the chance to see it… and keep a few things… he had a great record collection.”

“Oh yes, I imagine he would have enjoyed talking to you about the music.” He smiled at some moment of recognition.

“Yeah that would have been cool… Frank was there… he was living above him y’know? I only met him briefly… seemed like an interesting character… I wondered if mum remembered much about him… she seemed to vaguely.”

“Frank was living there? That is funny.”

“You remember him?” I asked.

“Oh yes, we did meet him a few times… we only knew him through Brian of course… was he still writing?”

“I believe so… I think science fiction… he seemed to be hoping for cult status.” I joked and my father briefly smiled again.

“That’s good, glad he’s well.”

“He gave me one of his old books when I was leaving… I don’t have it now… but it seemed to be about that whole time… I was curious what mum remembered but… well do you remember the book? The Coven?”

“That takes me back! He was quite the fantasist… yes I can imagine him writing science fiction now… I thought he might have been more like a Tolkien back then… was very popular, all those fantasy things.”

“Will we have a drink?” I interrupted noticing the cabinet with gin, sherry and whiskey standing neatly beside a chess set. I thought I could do with being less conscious of my surroundings and thought he may be less discrete if he joined me.

“That’s a good idea… whiskey and coke?”

“Ginger ale?”

“Eh yes I can do that, I’ll join you with a gin and tonic.” He busied himself with the drinks and seemed happier to be playing host.

“Do you remember those days in London? Before you left for suburbia?” I asked.

“Oh yes, we lived there for quite a few years before I married your mother.” He handed me the drink and began sipping his own.

“You must have had some fun… hanging out with Brian… and Frank.” I prodded the direction of the conversation.

“Oh we did… we never had much money you know… we wanted more than anything to own our first home and well... that was our dream and… but we had some good times… you didn’t need a lot of money to have fun in those days.” He smiled at me and sipped his drink. I couldn’t help but think those days were a long time ago for him now.

“Did you ever read that funny book Frank wrote? The Coven.” I had a strange feeling in my stomach.

“The Coven… well now let me see.” He stood up again and hobbled into the bedroom where he had a large bookcase covering one wall. He emerged after a moment with a strange grin like he’d just won a prize.

“You have it?” I was genuinely surprised.

“You know it’s something I’ve not thought about in a very long time… but yes I knew I had a copy… it came out… well let me see now.” He started flicking through the blue hardback. “Published 1971! That really takes me back.”

“And you’d already left London?” I wondered what the exact chronology was.

“It was about that time… probably just after… now I don’t remember if it was Brian or Frank who gave it to me… I don’t remember a lot about it… I don’t think many people knew about it… well no… actually it was Brian who found it very funny… he thought he was scaring your mother out of the new Jerusalem!” He laughed at this memory.

“And did he?” I wasn’t sure exactly what to ask or how blunt to be.

“Well look.” He handed me the blue hardback with its three gold interlocking triangles emblazoned on the front that shone in the afternoon light like a forgotten archaic spell suddenly being remembered.

“Is it the first edition?” I asked as though I needed to slow down whatever revelations I felt rushing towards me as I began flicking through the old book, smelling the deep trapped scents of the analog time machine.

“It was the only edition. Did you read it?” He wondered.

“No, no… I had a copy but… it’s gone.” I didn’t want to mention the fire.

“You should read it… it’s a very… amusing book… I don’t think Frank really ever wrote anything like it again, well I haven’t read what he’s doing these days… it’s probably easier to make movies out of books with spaceships nowadays.”

“Yes I think so… this was about something like a cult wasn’t it? I remember that much… a guy is tripping and runs into these two people who take him in… and they’re in a cult... the holy sun?”

“Very good, yes that’s it… they’re part of a secret order and they’re the last two original members… a man and a woman who pretend to be married so as not be noticed by polite society… they’re both master magicians but they need a third person for their magic to work and they start leaving clues all around London… little ads in shop windows and in the local papers and they wait for a curious person to notice… they call it the spiritual mousetrap… because any old person who joins them isn’t going to work… they need someone already sensitive to the great work… and this young guy… who’s like a hippie type character discovers them… and in his altered state… well he’s quite drugged up… it’s a funny… well almost a parody of some of those friends Brian and Frank had in Ladbroke Grove… they could be quite outrageous… your mother would say… well anyway… the young guy thinks he’s helping them to have a baby because it’s the most important thing to them… and they’ll help him to be a great painter… the most important thing to him… and this is the great restoration of equilibrium in the universe… and it all has that background of 1968 to it.” My father seemed more animated than I’d seen in a long time in recounting the tale.

“I thought it came out in 71?”

“Yes it did… but Frank is really remembering some of these characters he knew in 68… it was very tumultuous and people were still looking for their utopia after… well with less naivete… people knew what they wanted but they now had to deal with how hard the people they wanted to change were going to fight back… it’s very sad how innocent a lot of us were… we really couldn’t imagine how vicious our governments were… everyone was really very disillusioned with the Soviet Union after the Prague spring failed… and Hungary before that of course… and we had the so called democracies of the West embroiled in Vietnam and Biafra… and well many people left for India or a cottage in Wales or a cottage in West Cork… and we were just working people… your mother’s dream was to have a nice home to raise you in and we had that in Ireland… where all these… radical things did just not exist.” He said matter of factly.

He looked at me with faded brown eyes gently squinting, I imagined he was bringing me into focus or was he trying to see me still as a child? Was my life the end product of their dreams? It was hard to put myself in the stream of his life. I realised he had a political understanding of some things without necessarily being radical himself.

“What were you doing in 68? Did you know Brian and Frank then? You were already seeing mum?” I wanted to catch the last echoes before they dissipated into nothingness.

“We were just working son, me and your mum… well we did… now I should say maybe I did flirt with some of these ideas… it was an exciting time… it feel like a whole way of life was being fought for and… I think we weren’t wrong… I think you’ll see things are coming to a conclusion now… in the next five years… you can see it… things naturally swing like a pendulum… it had to swing one way for the young people growing up in a bombed out Britain after world war 2… things had to change… it was only natural… but everything becomes a manipulation… what we see in Ireland… what they did to people who put all their faith in the church and now people don’t dare believe in anything but the value of their house… well it was the same then… people wanted to live for each other and prosper and not live under a war machine and the thought there’d be nuclear war any day… and live how they like and not have to get married at 21 and live like their parents... and now… we’re all good little compliant consumers… you can feel it swinging back… and people think maybe having a family with a mother and a father isn’t such a bad thing… and maybe there’s a price for everything being so cheap and made in China and cheap labour and… when you’re my age and you can remember how my parents lived… you can see it swing back and forth… and the difference now is if people notice who controls them… it was all about people realising there was a military industrial complex that wanted wars in my day… and now people are waking up to the fact the banks run everything… and of course it’s the same thing… all about money and money is all about control… and I don’t know… but history repeats… waiting for us to learn some lessons… and we make it very hard for ourselves… the human race!” He threw up his hands and laughed. I knew he didn’t want to think he was lecturing me as I smiled back.

“The pendulum rhymes.” I joked shaking my head at the same historical thoughts.

“That it does, that is does.” He picked up his gin and tonic and finished it.

“And… mum… in those days…” I finished my own drink and wondered what else had happened.

“Your mum is very clever and very intelligent and very loving… she knew what Brian and Frank and all their friends were up to… but she wasn’t going to live in a squat… you can’t imagine what it was like growing up somewhere like Galway in those days.. They wouldn’t have even had a toilet in the house… yes Frank probably did convince her she didn’t want to stay in London!” He laughed at another memory.

“Why?” I needed more.

“I think Frank might have been having a little fun with us… with that book… and the kinds of things Brian would talk about… it just wouldn’t make sense to people these days… well everybody is probably just as promiscuous now… but people believed it was part of a revolution then… and they were into all kinds of spiritual ideas… I had friends who became Hari Krishna’s you know? And went a bit funny in the head… they’d only answer to an Indian name and eat curry… and they’d always be someone who had some bad experience… too much drugs… or they might really have been gay and could never admit it or… they had some strange relationship with their parents.” He went silent as soon as he recognised what he’d said and got up to make another drink.

“And what were Brian and Frank really into?” I didn’t want his flow of memories to stop. I wasn’t going to ask any questions about my own parents failed marriage.

“Well now.” He paused with a deep breath and made another gin and tonic, I shook my head no to the offer of another drink.

“Now… I suppose it was all this magic stuff… it’s in the book… it was another popular thing… ceremonial magic… and… I think that was Frank’s thing… he used to talk about Gerald Gardner a lot… he would say ‘an important man’ and I think Frank was helping to promote this whole Wicca scene… witches… and all that… there was quite the pagan thing to go back to nature... I think Brian liked that… but well I think he was interested but then he got into all these ideas about chaos… and magic and physics… I don’t really know… it’s beyond me! But I’ll tell you what I do remember… there was a few of us who were good friends… and I think he was looking for the right people that could make a magic circle together… or is that like the magicians? You know who pull rabbits out of hats? It wasn’t really my thing at all… or your mothers… but we saw them a lot… and we were curious about all these exotic things they’d tell us about… and it was good entertainment… we never owned a TV until we moved back to Ireland! Can you imagine that? Well now… anyway they had this idea that it if the right people could complete a connection or a circuit together… Frank always used to talk about the power of three… it was a special thing… you see this is all in the book… three people were like a superconductor for magic or anything… three could create what two never could… a law of the universe he would say...

“And in 68 Frank brought us all together… he had found a nice pad… not as rough as Ladbroke Grove was later on… I can’t remember who owned it… he might have even rented it… you wouldn’t ask too many questions where people got their money! People would be embarrassed to admit they were really quite middle class… or even had a proper job… and were a bit of a weekend hippie… so I do remember… it was right around that time… you know Sympathy for the Devil and all that… and Brian thought at high moments of tension special things were possible and a new coven could be created… and people could make their own future… and really it was very dramatic with candles and incense and all that… and I think really it freaked your mother out a little bit… and we knew we weren’t going to live in a Hammer horror movie!

“Now you know neither your mother or myself were very Catholic… you know after the childhood we had… my God the Jesuits! And the Christian Brothers who ran the schools in Ireland… cruel, cruel bastards… we were never going to force religion on our own children… we were always agreed on that... we weren’t good candidates to jump into some funny cult… so now I do think Frank really did believe in those things… the magic and… he liked to dress up... he was very into that for awhile anyway… and the book is really his experiences of that time… if you read that… you’ll have a better idea that I can give you… but after that… we got on with our lives… buying our own house was a dream that came true for us.” He finished his second drink and let out a sigh. He looked tired and I thought there was little more for us to say somehow. I had a thousand more questions but I could feel there was a shield of vagueness covering something. He’d told me more than I’d expected and was glad to hear it in his own words. To confront him with my own imagination seemed cruel.

“I never thought you’d have the book.” I mused aloud, looking at the blue and gold velvet book in my hands, it felt like another ghost stalking me.

I wanted to ask if there was a power of three, who were they? Brian, Frank and my father or Brian, Frank and my mother? Brian, my mother and father? What was Frank’s role? The master of ceremonies? I did not know. I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

“You never think of these things until something reminds you.” He looked down at the book in my hands and muttered something under his breath. I thought I had never seen him quite so drunk. I could see the age in his hands clasping themselves together in odd movements. “You should get some rest.” I offered.

“I will, it’s good to see you, you’re doing well? The job is going well?” He smiled again, waiting to hear the affirmative response that eased his mind.

“I'm finished with them.” I thought of lying and letting him ease out of the conversation but changed my mind at the last moment.

“What? Why now? You had a good job there.” He searched my eyes like a concerned inquisitor.

“It didn't work out... I'm better off.”

“Ah God I don't know... they had you set up for life... you can't take my example... with all the handshake deals I was offered when I settled in Dublin. I turned them all down... and I retired well... you're making a hard life for yourself now son." He rambled and began to seem very drunk.

“It's ok, really... I didn't want that job for the rest of my life... I don't want to belong to anybody.” I didn’t want this confrontation now.

“And belong to nobody then? Sometimes I think we shouldn't have raised you kids in Ireland... there's a sickness that seeps into people’s heads... how can it not? No son of mine was going to be baptised Catholic... no son... those bastards... the pedophile homosexual priesthood of Babylon at Vatican Hill has ruined this country... occupied forever by the Christ killing Roman Empire... forever known as the Roman Catholic Church! The tentacles… no son of mine was meant for their tattoo.” He raged, I had never seen him so agitated.

“It doesn't matter… does it? I don’t understand, I always thought you were Christian… why did you come back to Ireland?” I couldn’t help but continue the conversation against the instincts of my rising emotions.

“My son, Catholicism isn’t Christianity. There’s been Jewish popes and there’s been Nazi popes, the pope is nothing but the head of the mafia, if people talked about who ran the Vatican’s accounting department they’d understand a lot of things… they are nothing but another wing of the bankers desire to control the world and leave us all in a ghetto… meekly waiting for death and the afterlife… I feared they’d get you… growing up here… but we couldn’t raise you in England because of your mother… I didn’t see you as much I’d like but I knew you’d make the right choice.” He rambled through pained memories and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“There’s more isn’t there?” I looked directly at his eyes that opened and flexed the wrinkles of his face.

“History is nothing but the bubbling cauldron of a witches brew… you don’t want to know what all the ingredients are, believe me. I know you want to make your own destiny… you can’t escape where we came from… who we are… tell me though, you won’t work for them will you? What are you going to do?” He took another drink.

“No, I didn't want to help any further.”

“Did you shake the man’s hand?” He grabbed my hand.

“No, my boss? No, I only knew him over the phone... it was a virtual job... I owe them nothing.” I convinced myself as much as my father as he seemed more confused by the moment.

“You didn't? I bet they thought they had you since college… I didn’t want to put you off going to college in Ireland. I’m glad you at least had your early school days without religion, you were lucky there was a non denominational school, there was only a handful in the country! They're the most arrogant men, the priests of usury. It’s all about money and power and they’ll get you either way, my God if people understood how insane the people with the money are they’d go insane themselves… they’ll try to make the world in their own image or destroy us all in the attempt… Christian, Jew or Muslim don’t understand how they’re all being used… they want their goddess in the temple again… they care nothing for us! It’s utter madness!

“You're a good man... I couldn't have done it... I couldn't have begun to get free... Brian always thought you'd be the one... and I didn't know... your mother wouldn't understand... I do now though... I'm glad to see you.” He said with his eyes blinking in moisture.

“It's good to see you. What did Brian think? He saw me as a child didn't he?” I had to ask.

“He thought you'd be the one to remember, he really did... and he comes back... he didn't want you ending up like me... he's got a sense of humour.” He smiled again.

“I haven't ended up like... anybody.” I stated in confusion.

“I know son, I know... it's good… it's ok, I'm really very tired now. I think I’ll lie down… I was going to offer you something to eat but… I must have a lie down now… oh that whiskey goes straight to the head!” He laughed and ambled into the bedroom. I listened for a moment to him stumbling around and almost immediately I could hear him snoring through the wall.

I tried not to dwell on my father's odd state. I felt I shouldn't have come but felt something sealed had been broken forever. I stayed on the sofa with the blue book in my hands thinking Dave was expecting me to arrive. I thought I could just sleep on the sofa but knew I didn’t want to have a different conversation with my father in the morning, I didn’t want to hear him making regretful retractions.

I wanted to understand the maelstrom that been opened. All I knew was that my mother was at peace with her retired life in Ireland while my father still lived with some terror. I would inevitably follow some grotesque echo he could still hear ringing. I knew I’d been unusual to grow up in suburbia with almost none of the religious and cultural programming of Catholic Ireland. I began to understand the things that had not attached themselves to me had only left room for different types of illusions to take hold.

The blue book still held me like a lead weight. I had another unexpected chance to read it. I thought I should pay attention to the synchronicity but I couldn’t begin somehow. I kept randomly flicking through it trying not to think my parents really wear some of these strange characters. Would they have been completely different people if I’d known them back then or would I recognise all their idiosyncratic movements of the eyes, the hands, the tones of voice that instantly annoyed me? I had to let them be for my own sanity as much as their own but I would begin reading the book again. I began skimming through it, recognising bits I’d read before. I knew what I really wanted to understand was the apotheosis, I skipped to the last chapter of The Coven.

The Harvest King

Thomas was finally ready to enter the sacred space after all the tribulations that had brought him to the edge of his sanity, he no longer wasted his finite energy on what he could prove to be real, all that remained of his vital life force now had to be gambled upon the promise of his art being truly eternal. He stepped into the scent of burning embers that pushed pillowed carnation plumes into the dark room only lit by faint candle light. He walked into the perfectly measured circle of salt and dropped his silk gown to the ground so as to be skyclad before the Goddess who recognised him silently.

She stepped into the circle with him and told him to close his eyes as he glimpsed her smooth bare skin delight the psychic sense of his body opening and rising. She swirled around him in silent circles tracing her fingertips across the length of his body, a ballet of soft caresses acrossthe length of his entire body energizing each energetic point until they were all flowing into one another as one pulse of bodily sensation running straight into the crown until he was ready for the process of creation.

Shakti. She whispered.

She gently dabbed warm lavender oil under his nose and above his lips, it filled his head with flowing fumes, he felt his blood run faster thru his own flesh. She rubbed the point between his forehead and the crown atop of his skull simultaneously while singing rising drones from ear to ear.

I become Aphrodite now. She said in the darkness of his closed eyelids. He saw purple ribbons dance in the shape of She.

We ask Brigid to enter this realm with us, we ask she grant new life to serve the Sun and Moon. She said.

Take this. Mabon spoke as he entered the circle and placed the still bloody antlers of the slaughtered Scottish stag upon Thomas’ head.

The power of Cernunnos is upon you. Mabon said. Thomas bowed and felt the cold blood run down his naked back, it ran down his face over his closed eyelids and into his open mouth.

I am alive again. What do you want of me? Cernunnos spoke as he stood up again and opened his eyes for the first time.

We offer you our most precious gifts of mortal time. Brigid stepped forward and kneeled before him, her hand cupped to hold the the rarest sacrament of orange powder.

Oh great one, breath in our offering, fly upon they phanerothyme, grant our child a place among the starry firmament, let him be a servant to you, let him manifest your life in our world, let him lead us from the satanic mills to the green promise of the future, our toes walk upon your head, I am ready to bleed for you. She recanted the words carved upon her breast that flickered backwards in the candle lit mirror before her.

And I believe in the Serpent and the Lion, Mystery of Mysteries, in His name Baphomet! We are your servants tonight! Mabon cried. He pulled on the chain that opened the roof to the full moon that beamed its cool light upon the three bare bodies that had aligned themselves in preparation for the final holy moment of penetration.

Oh Lords of Chaos grant us your power for one night. She set forth the most inedible parts of the stags entrails and gristle upon the altar and set fire to them with her secret mixture of blood, semen, herbs and alcohol that burned in blue plumes of smoke that rose up to the sharp silver light of the moon.

Grant me the power to bring life into your world for this God and Goddess that are your servants of the night. Said said.

Cernunnos now bowed and snorted the mound of orange powder that She had placed there. He ran wild down the halls of his mind with a great serpent of gold devouring all that existed within its jaws. He ran as fast as his hooves could hit the earth. He was the great glistening stag now, running across the isles weathered in torrents of raining gold and blood that splattered his magnificent coat. He leaped and bounded from island to island as the serpent swallowed the world behind him until there was no land left. The stag stopped before a boiling ocean and began to drown. The serpent wrapped the creature within its golden vibrating tail and looked into its eyes before eating him whole. The world was now in the flux of chaos where all things ran together and where the impossible was now possible in the mingling of the dark light of creation within the terror of mortal beasts feeling the end of time rushing into the night.

Cernunnos screamed as Mabon fixed the face of Dionysus upon his features and began to thrust his essence into the splayed stag that thrust into the kneeling Brigid before him. The three bodies twisted in a thrashing ecstasy of commune with the rising life force pouring quivering light upwards from the sacred circle until the serpentine wrench of heaving humanity released Dionysus’ barrage of life thru the inflamed base chakra of Cernunnos which exploded his essence into Brigid. A new life was guaranteed as they collapsed upon one another.

The moon was covered once more by a wooden ceiling clanking shut with metal chains rolling a mechanical rhythm back into the lives of the mortal creatures that lay in the candle light. Brigid covered her body in the silk gown and stepped out of the circle, sweeping the salt away, the Goddess departed with the last plumes of smoke slowly dissipating from the extinguished carnation incense and burnt stag meat. Dionysus had already flown away on the last slivers of moonlight and left the husband to give thanks to the beasts that had occupied him as he came and embraced his wife. They stood and looked down upon the naked Thomas who lay dead in a pool of human and animal blood slowly mixing together.

Blessed is the messenger of the Gods. The wife said. Blessed is he. The husband said.

He grants you journey to our world, you will be the rightful heir to the Sun and Moon. She said rubbing her womb.

His paint speaks for him now, his immortality is achieved. He said as Hestia appeared through the shadows of the doors. They dipped their fingers in Thomas’ blood and let red rivers drip into the still drying oil painting of a great stag atop a mountain looking upon the Irish Sea. The body would be found the next morning in the artist’s studio lying prostrate before his last great work. Thomas would be remembered as a great painter by the world.

The husband and wife would raise the latest incarnation of the star child until he was ready to take his rightful place in the great pantheon of the Illuminated Sons of the Celestial Kingdom of the Sun and Moon.

I looked up from the book to see the garden in darkness. I felt like I’d been reading in a trance and left the purple book on the coffee table as I stretched my legs and wondered what I would do. I left my father to sleep in the bedroom and thought I should leave for a bus into the city. I guessed I might catch Dave before he closed up the shop. I wanted to be free of the weird echoes manifesting the past in front of my face. I had to keep moving forward or become entrenched in the mud of time. It was hard to believe my father had ever read Frank’s book, I couldn’t envisage it any more than the thought of Brian and my parents sitting in the back of the cinema with a joint watching The Wicker Man. It was absurd, was my silent mantra as I walked to the bus stop.

The flood of people pouring through the city centre was a dull shock to the senses, something that could only be expected but still overwhelmed me every time. A thousand people walking towards another thousand, through streets built for medieval inhabitants and Victorian businesses, each avoiding each other like invisible streams overlapping without accident. Were the gaudy shops the only thing that could still get people to swarm together? I thought cynically in the lingering memory of open spaces both green and desolate.

I ambled through the streets, noticing how my body knew the way blindfolded, I didn’t really have to think. I walked down Westmoreland Street until turning left on Duke Street before the bookshop, then past Davy Byrne’s, the famous pub I had never set foot in, and across the chaos of Grafton Street with its corporate brands granting continuous footfall for the buskers eeking out seams of novelty and nostalgia, then through the narrow alleyway of Johnson’s Court were Bewley’s lay boarded up with all my memories of eating there as a child and teenager.

I thought suddenly of Brian handing me a cup of 7UP coloured green for St. Paddy’s day in the basement where I was sitting in front of a cream bun. I almost walked over a beggar's feet stretched out in the gutter. I mumbled apologies unsure if the figure was a man, woman, asleep, awake or dead. I walked straight on past the church and all the tiny jewellry shops until wandering up Coppinger Row and the rows of sofas on the street over crowded with young students noisily chattering and puffing on vaporisers. I wondered what the city was like to them now? It was a dreary grey monotone when I’d was their age. Now it looked more like a street scene from Bladerunner everyday. Were we all happy to be equally rootless and equally powerless at the feet of our corporate global masters now? I wondered as I overheard the competing Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic voices overlapping in confusion.

I passed Grogan’s and thought I recognised a few men sitting outside but kept walking as I felt it was a distraction to investigate but stopped as I felt a hand pat my back. It was Oisin. He looked older, greyer, with an incongruous Manchester United cap on his head. How long had it been since I’d talked to him? My mind was blank in the processing of so many details demanding attention in cross reference like a virtual archive of my mind.

“Sean! How are you?” He shook my hand before I had a chance to offer it.

“Good.” I said simply with no intent to say more.

“You’re back from your travels? Travel can be hard on a man, even a young man, some men are broken by their travels and travails… you look well.” He kept hold of my hand and was attempting to run his thumb around the palm of my hand when I pulled it free.

“Yes, I’m back in Dublin now… I’m going to meet a friend.”

“What exotic lands did you find? Did the natives speak to you?” He smiled without humour in his face which looked narrower, bonier than I remembered. He looked as though he had been starving himself. His hair was noticeably thinner and greyer as he took off the red cap and dramatically patted it against his leg. I looked into his eyes for a moment and was sure they were making calculations.

“I found some of the wayward children of the sun… I suppose.” I offered the best truth I could think of.

“And what did you learn?” He asked keenly.

“What is important… for me… for you… I do not know.” I was determined I would not be a mere game for him now.

“Such as their Bitcoin wallet… or the gps coordinates of their only drinking well… perhaps? Don’t worry about such small concerns… what matters is if you can see what they saw… and if when walking around these streets so familiar to you… so familiar it makes you pause do they not? So you wait for your mind to catch up and layer the present over the past and walk about both equally… so you may understand to use time as a tool… like we all must do on a path we all share to freedom… do you remember how you walked to this very spot beside the pub? I know you can name all the streets… you can describe how you got here… but do you remember yourself remembering how you walked to this spot and noticed our friends sitting outside?” He glared with a crazed intensity. I looked past him to an Asian man sitting with the other members of the meetup group I recognised, he seemed to be watching us closely.

“I remember seeing your friends and deciding not to stop… what I’ve learned is no use to your group… my truth is not yours.” I said what seemed important.

“Did you learn a name?” He glared, I felt as though I couldn’t move.

“Hassan­i Sabbah.” I managed through a gritted smile, I noticed his eyes expand and then relax.

“You have found a subjective truth yet have not glimpsed the unchanging objective. The objective can and must be shared before all… at least those who have ears to listen… do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.” He lectured me.

“You remind me of one guy I met who liked his quotes… though I don’t think you’d agree about what those quotes mean.” I felt I could move again.

“Oh yes? Well life is but a discourse… a dialectic endeavor… we hope to achieve synthesis before the end… otherwise it is but a waste… I feel.” He sighed.

“My friend like to quote Pallas Athena, I think if he met you he would say ignorance, always knowing with absolute certainty, everything, always, and without any hesitation, is ready to impose its unadulterated and foul ideologies, upon all men, even if it kills them all. Such, the nature of ignorance, it is.” I felt I was channeling something as I locked on his eyes and was deeply satisfied to see him blink first. “I think you’ve done your work.” I nodded my head and began to move on.

“I have? And what work is that?”

“You know I’m alive and well and back in Dublin.” I smiled.

“And jobless… homeless too… perhaps.” He made an exaggerated sad face like a clown.

“Temporal matters.” I joked and walked on.

“Those concern us all.” Oisin walked in front of me. Stopping me for a moment.

“If my name was marked… for attention… it is not the same thing as my soul… or who I am… I know this much… I don’t belong to you… or my job.” I stated what I was certain of.

“And Brian?” He asked with a new casual face.

“He’s dead and gone… it’s a different world… I’m living here… in this place… and I am remembering everything worth remembering.”

“And if you find something that nearly everyone has forgotten?” He asked, seeking something more from me.

“I’ll follow the hints… and look before I leap… who is the fool…?” I smiled at him without caring what he would think now. He stood and watched me enter St. George’s Mall, my last sight of him was a struggle to fit his tight red cap back on his head before strolling back to the small group of older men, I saw the Asian man get up and walk away. I struggled with myriad thoughts of a lost opportunity to ask a thousand more questions but was sure with everything that was offered I too would have to give something of myself in return. I felt I was committed to the process of reconstruction and no more destruction was necessary.

I paused at the entrance to the shop as I saw Dave dealing with his regular customers who came in to gossip about the latest gigs and what the bands they knew were up to. I let them get on with it. It was curious to watch Dave look so animated as I could hear him over the music talk about the rarest bootlegs he could find and ‘are impossible to download man!’ I was looking at all the colourful flyers and posters stuck on the glass door, wondering was there really enough fans in Dublin for all the subgenres of acid punk, psychedelic jazz, folktronica and goth trance. One small black and white poster stood out with a still blown up from the film The Shining. I recognised it right away in an odd moment, Jack Nicholson in a dinner jacket with his right arm raised and his left lowered in the pose of as above, so below. Beneath the poster it read sun of baphomet.

“The prodigal son returns!” Dave laughed shaking my hand.

“How are you?” I asked casually, taking in the haunt that felt like a friendly temple that had thankfully remained the same after so much had changed.

“Y’know man I have to say thanks so much for letting me sell those records, I found this great contact in Japan online, he wanted to buy everything outright from me for some serious change but I knew he was keen… too keen really! So I sold everything to him but got him to cut me into a new repress of Syzygy… I’m going to be the only person who can sell it in Europe… we don’t think anybody owns the rights so we’re free to make some money… we’ll sell it online… and put out some ads… it’s a great record.” Dave was still running on the excitement of the unexpected money that had found its way to him and couldn’t help but launch into the latest developments still underway.

“I’m glad more people will hear it.” I smiled at Dave thinking of Brian making the private pressing in seventies Berlin with no thought how it might ever break out.

“And eh… I know you just left me the stuff when you had to go away… I can break you in.” He offered nervously. I wondered if he thought my relative silence was a process of legal machinations.

“It’s ok man, you know I just need somewhere to stay for awhile.” It felt wrong to ask for any part of a gift back.

“Of course man… what happened is terrible… what about the job?”

“It’s ok.” I waved my hands in a vague symbol of how tired the subject was to me. I also didn’t want to bring him any further into my journey. I was sure there were only parts of the path that intersected, I knew we were not on the same path.

“Did you ever find out about which was the album title and which was the name of the band?” I asked fixing my gaze on his eyes that still danced nervously.

“Oh yeah! That was hard work y’know? We were never 100% sure… the Japanese guy did a lot of digging… the best we could figure out is that Syzygy was probably the band name… we tried looking for references… anything y’know and Syzygy crops up as like… eh… it’s like the movement of planets… so when the Earth, the Sun and the Moon or in conjunction or opposition to each other… like an eclipse is a Syzygy… and when you have a new moon it’s a conjunction and when it’s a full moon it’s in opposition…

“So Syzygy describes when something is happening with these movements… and it means when really unusual things happen… like if all the planets line up… it’s interesting stuff… I’m no astronomy expert right? But the astrology stuff is cool… the Japanese guy sent me an email… come here for a second.” We walked over to the laptop by the cash register. I was thinking Dave didn’t want to give me the Japanese man’s name, not even his first name, I decided not to ask as he explained what he’d discovered.

“Ok… so I know you’re into the weird… this is what the guy sent on when we were talking about the record… I’ll read it out… ‘I have done as much research as is possible for me now, I think we are right about it being an astronomical description. I have found one curious reference that I think is worth recording, perhaps this material can also be of use in future promotional information? I have acquired access to a private archive that holds many personal artifacts of Carl Jung. There is a letter to Jung that may elucidate some of our enquiries…’

“Ok man it’s crazy? Look then we have this letter to Jung… you see we both also realised there was a reference to Syzygy in Jung’s work and he meant it to mean something like a union between people or like a close relationship… I mean neither of us speak German… and you don’t speak German right? Anyway check this out...

‘Dear Dr. Jung,

I write in the hope you may receive this unusual request and spare the time to respond. I have been greatly taken with your work and it has helped me understand many unusual things that have happened in my short life thus far. I think I am on the brink of a radical change in my life now, it is a new decade and I can feel the world is slowly shifting into something else, I think I must be ahead of this wave if I am to prosper in it. I feel to slip upon these shifting sands would be to incur a lethal injury to the spirit.

I am greatly taken with one of your ideas and that idea is the concept you name as Syzygy. I have pursued many intense relationships to varying degree of success and disaster and now do firmly believe there are other factors at play I am barely conscious of in the illusion of my free choice of action. I believe there is an approaching moment in the next decade where a true moment of Syzygy could be expressed between a man and woman to help create a definite and deliberate alteration of consciousness and this consciousness could be far spread with the latest advances in the mechanical means of reproduction that we now have access to. I believe a positive and radical message could now be transmitted to the collective unconscious in a very particular and important manner. I believe to not act in this decade would be to unwittingly grant our moral abdication on a world now threatened by the annihilation of the atomic bomb.

I have made many studies and believe that on this date in exactly thirteen years from now there will be a rare conjunction of the planets. If my calculations are correct there will be a moment when Venus shall transit the Sun and the choke hold of Saturn shall slip. I know there are many odd theories about the stars and their interactions with human life upon our planet and I know you may not want to publicly endorse the work of astrologers who bring ridicule to these arcane ideas in the daily newspapers with their promises to young girls they they will meet the husband of their dreams!

However we know how important all such planetary interactions were to the ancients and how far our current civilization has to catch up in achieving the wisdom of the ancient cultures. I believe on this date, I refer you to the date of this letter, in approximately thirteen years this unique conjunction of Venus, the Sun, the Earth and Saturn will be an extremely powerful Syzygy for those who are sensitive enough to notice and act upon it.

I believe for these brief celestial moments the old God of Time, Chronos, will be forced to pause in his grasp of Earth, it will free the beautiful energy of love, Venus to offer higher access on the high beams of her stairway directly to the supreme consciousness of the Sun. I believe it will be possible for humans specially prepared to walk across this stairway for but a moment and make direct contact with the God of this Galaxy. I believe it can be known if Sophia truly is still in slumber or if she can be awoken, I believe it can be known if the Demiurge is truly in control or if it too has fallen asleep. Chronos is our true enemy and our lives are nothing but the faint noise of insects to him. Yahweh can laugh heartily at our hubris but we know our destiny is not for our bodies to be dissolved into the earth for ever when we can know our soul can fly. We may be able to know the mind of God in this extraordinary moment of Syzygy.

What will happen I dare not say for certain. What is certain is that for man to take his place among the Gods we need this union to occur. Where one man and woman can be joined to form a new Aeon in the stars. We do not have the time to see fully the transition from the realm of the fisherman to the route of the fish finally returning home. It is the beginning of the end of the Kali Yuga for mankind. We have the chance to skip the worst curses if we can remember our true names and speak them to the Sun. I believe a true Hieros Gamos is possible between man and the Gods for at least one night. Please investigate my calculations and let me know your thoughts, your pupil, Lock.’

“Wild isn’t it?” Dave grinned, looking up from the computer as though he’d won a quiz.

“Who wrote it?” I asked impatiently.

“Oh the original letter? I don’t know… it just says Lock, the guy typed it out… I was wondering the same thing ‘cause we don’t have the date or any proper name on the letter… but it’s far out right? I bet Brian was into some of this weird new age stuff.” His grin widened like the Cheshire cat.

“Probably… so if the band was Syzygy… then the album was actually called Geschenlasssen?”

“Oh yeah… so we figure it’s another Jung reference and he meant it along the lines of… letting something happen.”

“Ok.” I mumbled as I had to think.

“I guess Brian liked to read.” Dave joked.

“Yeah.” I offered as I could feel strange sensations and ideas were still growing that I had expected to suddenly stop as though I could decide alone.

“I didn’t know when you’d be back… I thought maybe you’d moved to America.” Dave started chatting again with a nervous edge.

“America?” I was shocked, I felt as though I was on the edge of the tightrope now with insanity beckoning me below.

“Yeah I thought you were off working for the job… wasn’t it? Doing research on Greece and America? For the history project? The archive?” He said seeking a keyword that made sense to me. I was sure he was just nervous about the money he’d made. I was determined not to slip into unnecessary paranoia.

“Right… I had to travel for awhile.” I explained as little as was necessary.

“I didn’t know if you were coming back.” He protested.

“Yeah… I know… I said you could have the records.” I confirmed for him again.

“Some real rare stuff… I thought I should sell… most of it… I didn’t know if I could keep paying rent here… and now… things are good… we’ll get the Syzygy record made and… it will all be good… how’s your job going?” He asked finally.

“I’m finished with them… it’s not really what I want to do with my time… I just want to crash until I get things together.”

“Ok cool… don’t worry… it’s all good.” He smiled and took my backpack. I deigned not to tell him those were my only belongings in the world now. I thought it would only freak him out even more as he seemed caught between wanting to be kind to me and fearing I’d demand anything from half to all the money he’d made from Brian’s records.

“Did you sell all the records?” I asked as I paused in the shop looking at the row of rare vintage records hanging from the wall. The ones too expensive to be left in the racks.

“Oh yeah most of them… but yeah there’s a couple still there… here’s one.” He pulled down a record from the wall. The cover was a noisy clash of psychedelic colours and cut outs depicting a naked black woman looking up at a naked angel who pointed to space.

“This was one of Brian’s?”

“Yeah, it’s cool isn’t it? Do you like Santana?”

“Abraxas.” I said reading the cover.

“Yeah it’s the one with Black Magic Woman and Oye Como Va… classic man… we should have a smoke later and have a listen… say thanks to Brian! Ok man I’m going to bring the van around to the back of the shop.”

“You have a van?” I had to ask.

“Yeah… I’ll show you… hang on there.” He departed with an impish smile, I figured he was failing to hide how much money he had made. I stayed in the shop as Dave ran around pulling down the metal grates and went out the back door into the alleyway where he could bring the van around. I kept looking at the cover in search of any hidden meanings, it seemed bemusing to think this was a record Brian had kept for more than forty years, it didn’t look so old but definitely archaic. It almost seemed too much a part of classic rock for Brian but then it was a part of the culture that had surrounded him. I flipped the record over to look at the track list and saw there was a Hermann Hesse quote;

We stood before it and began to freeze inside from the exertion. We questioned the painting, berated it, made love to it, prayed to it: We called it mother, called it whore and slut, called it our beloved, called it Abraxas.

I imagined Brian winking at me and smiled at the thought this was the one record not to have been sold. I heard the van pull in and Dave beeping the horn. I opened the steel door out to a narrow courtyard where all the shops in the arcade had deliveries. Dave was grinning at me as he rolled the window down in his vintage red VW van. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s a real classic man!” Dave shouted.

“Brian bought you a VW van?” I was still laughing.

“Well… yeah… I always wanted a van for the shop and with this… man we could go touring… we could drive out to Wicklow and eat some shrooms… the third summer of love man.” Dave beamed as I walked around the smooth dark red van with its white top and bright chrome bumper and hubcaps. I let my fingers run along the cold metal shell and closed my eyes to see if I could still be transported to my childhood.

“Come on man, hop in, let’s beat the worst of the traffic.” Dave said breaking the strange spell. We drove slowly back to Ranelagh just ahead of the rush hour traffic with both of us thinking how much faster it would have been to just get on the Luas tramline and how horribly crowded it would be. I think both of us were imagining where else we could go after all responsibilities were tied up.

Dave’s apartment was a narrow maze of cardboard boxes full of records and books competing for space with the record player, speakers, laptop and widescreen TV. The only place to sit was a red sofa upcycled from a skip and two stools in the open kitchen behind the sofa. A quick glance of Dave’s bedroom next door revealed more cardboard pillars full of dusty treasures. I wandered among the boxes wondering what Dave thought was too important to be left in the shop. I found a lot of Italian and French prog rock from the 70’s I’d never heard of along with some original pressings of Neu!, La Dusseldorf, Faust, and Cluster. I made a note to ask Dave to play something for me after he was finished in his clumsy attempts to melt a small piece of Temple Ball hash in a yoghurt in the microwave.

“So man... I got to ask, what happened with the job? Seems like you had an easy gig there. Why'd you give that up?” Dave stared at me and waited to be told to mind his own business.

“It's gone, I'm done with it.”

“I don't get it... where are you going to live?”

“Don't worry I won't be staying long.” I laughed.

“Yeah? It's ok man... I really owe you... y'know if you want to talk over the money we could come to a deal.” I thought he was doing his best to be reasonable while afraid I might want much more than he could give up.

“It's ok, I said the records were yours, forget about it.” I didn't want to encourage any doubts. I was already feeling like I could fall asleep for the rest of time.

“If I can help with anything... if you ever need a lift in the van... want to go to the woods.” He smiled with some relaxation, almost believing my words.

“Yeah sure.” I liked at least the idea I could trace some more of Brian's place names from his last letter to Frank. I could feel something turning again.

“You were into some mad shit... right though? Did you see restricted data? Top secret stuff?” Dave grinned like a child.

“Most of it was newspapers, it was a boring job.” I wasn't going to expand on my most paranoid theory for him. It felt unwise to say certain things aloud at this point.

“I remember you were talking about Greece and the CIA... isn't that shit just like a window onto now? They'll never let Greece out of the EU now... in those days it was Communism... and the Americans would support every tin pot dictator as long as they weren't communist... so we got to keep Franco... and like... military governments in Portugal and Greece... and I suppose we were lucky... always a bit strange in Ireland... so we avoid the world wars... avoiding taking on too left or right wing government... then the country just got handed over to the Catholic Church to fuck up... isn't it like all the really radical people from 1916 to 1923 all got killed... so all the really conservative and mediocre people survived and destroyed the independent state... well man... who are the people who killed Che Guevara and JFK? Right?” Dave almost ranted.

“Yeah I know.” I wasn’t going to encourage him.

“And you must have read... some interesting shit man... come on... like tell me did you see some of the Roswell papers?” He leaned towards me.

“Oh man.” I almost laughed, thinking Roswell was the most interesting connection in the 1947 database to Dave's mind.

“Come on.” He pleaded.

“It's all disinfo... the lies are the truth and the truth has been so long forgotten... who would believe it? Man... I don't know... a lot of things connect... and it all comes back to people creating reality... it's a war of control... Greece and the formation of the CIA and... the dead sea scrolls being found and…” I thought of what I could tell him.

“What do you think?”

“I think something is encoded.” I said, surprising myself like a feeling had overtaken the speech of my mind.

“It's far out... really... and you got out?” Dave winked and almost laughed. “Got out while you can... man that is crazy about the fire destroying everything... I'm glad you're ok.” He patted me on the back with a massive grin.

“Yeah I am lucky... and I have no ties that bind... I just have a few people’s numbers.” I sat back thinking what was true and thought I’d never told Dave about the fire in the apartment, I’d just said I needed somewhere to stay.

“It's cool to crash man." Dave seemed suddenly happy to drop the friendly interrogation and disappeared into the kitchen where harsh chemical smells were rising. “Space is the place.” Dave grinned as he tried not to taste the foul mixture of melted hash and yoghurt before offering me a spoonful.

“Even hospitality got the Buddha in the end.” I ate a spoonful thinking I didn’t really want to be stoned while sheltering from the world in Dave’s tiny apartment.

“There are many paths to the same destination… some are more fun than others… some try and have their cake and eat it… some make the deathbed confession to the priest… or they’re probably already dead and the priest claims another one for the Pope.” He jumped up and rummaged in a box beside the vintage Pioneer amp and turntable.

“Check this man.” He dropped the needle on David Peel’s The Pope Smokes Dope which made both of us laugh. We could almost feel the sticky hash dissolving in our blood.

“Where do you get all this stuff?” I asked sitting back in the sofa as Dave turned the music down to something reasonable for his neighbors and so we could talk without shouting.

“Oh man you wouldn’t believe the amount of grade A stuff that is still out there, people think all the cool stuff is gone, impossible to get but what happens is that the people who are the real collectors, the ones really into the music and have like… the first German pressings of Can… or original UK pressings of the Beatles… they never sell them… they keep them in great nick and they listen to them and… they never, ever sell them on… so what happens is when they die you get a whole collection dropped right into the market… a whole collection in one go… it’s just being the first one to hear about or find it… usually the family just want to get rid of the stuff… physical media right? Who cares man!

“Well when you go through that stuff… and you take the time to sell it all individually on Ebay there’s serious money in there… just waiting to be found… I have all this stuff still to sort out… the best will go online and the rest to the shop… I just restocked the whole shop with piles of classic rock stuff that came from some old radio stations archive… you get weird leads for this stuff...and yeah it’s so tempting to keep the best stuff… and I have a nice collection myself… so unless I get totally broke… which I’m not… thanks to you man… and Brian… he must have had some collection… in London I mean.” He was chattering as fast as he could in a race against the hash rising to his brain.

“Yeah he did and I didn’t really have time to go through it all… I was glad I saw it though… it’s funny you still had this.” I was looking at the back cover of Abraxas again.

“Yeah man… you know I wasn’t sure if you were coming back… I imagined you might have decided to finally get out of here.”

“It’s ok… hey what were you saying about the third summer of love?” I dropped the Santana record on the turntable.

“Cool… yeah will go nice with this.” He rubbed his stomach and laughed. “But yeah… oh yeah man… ok well I figure you had the summer of love in 1967… right? Then people would argue something like 1987 to like 1989 was the second summer of love with acid house and The Orb and real pure ecstasy doing the rounds right? And so we’re all waiting for the holy trinity to be made soon… it’s got to happen soon… you can feel things are unfolding pretty fast… I thought 2012 was going to be it… go over the top… but I figure now it must happen by 2020… it’ll be a new age… the final showdown between the people with dogs on a string and the people with a computer chip in their third eye… and we get to choose which reality we help to create… I’m thinking we got to keep talking about this idea to make it happen… it’s planting seeds man.”

“I see what you mean… but you thought it might have happened in 2012?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah of course… it was one idea just ripe… of course there was so much blotter paper doing the rounds but of course most of it turned out to be shit… every long haired muso thought they were tripping but it was shit DOB or DOM or NBOMBE shit… did you hear about those kids in America that had their legs amputated after taking that shit thinking it was acid? I threw my stash away… fuck man do you remember when you could walk into a shop and buy Mephedrone? Christ I was almost glad they made it illegal… I don’t think I’d still have the shop.” He said rubbing his nose.

“Do you remember all the 2012 stuff? Y’know the singularity and all the Terence McKenna stuff?” I had to ask.

“Right, Timewave Zero… we were reaching the point of novelty so we were all about to… do something… reality was going to fold up shop and go home… we’d wake up from the dream and realise the empire never ended.”

“That was PKD.”

“Right… but yeah the Mayans and the end of time or just the end of the calendar.” Dave remembered.

“Yeah… and you read the McKenna stuff?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded.

“Do you ever think some of these things are like mouse traps?”

“What do you mean?” Dave started rolling a joint with the rest of the Temple Ball hash as though it gave his mind extra concentration for the theories he imagined I would be presenting.

“Well… you can see... easily enough ordinary people…” I began.

“The proletariat.” Dave interjected as he licked two skins to join together for one massive joint.

“Yes the great lumpen proletariat are equally entertained and distracted by football and TV and talent shows… and you throw in whatever remains of religion and whatever… right? And then the middle classes…”

“The discreet charms of the bourgeoisie.” Dave said in his best mock French accent.

“Ah oui… yes… they actually believe in the system by what it visibly rewards them with… a big car and a mortgage on a semi detached house.”

“Yeah and they think the politicians are doing their job despite the obvious corruption… they won’t quite join the dots together in case it means they might have to have a smaller car and a smaller house… or… the actual apocalypse of no car and just a hovel for a house if it meant the whole fake house of cards came tumbling down.” Dave lit the joint and began filling the flat with harsh smoke.

“Exactly… but the intellectual class… the clever people who have figured out all sides are lying and everything is corrupt… they get offered a different kind of distraction right? They get offered lots of little puzzles to waste their time… I mean McKenna was the one for our generation right?

“He was like the mischievous elf who’d come to play pranks on our head… tell us the most fantastical tales about the machine elves making reality right behind our eyes… and we could go and talk to them… and learn the secrets of the universe for the first time in human history… we could have instant access… just smoke some DMT… some Salvia and it was all there… a hell of incomprehensible gibberish leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the ghost in the shell.”

“Right.” Dave drawled through a cloud of smoke.

“And there was enough there… to think you were beating the game by becoming the urban shaman… remembering the earth existed was the first big shock… and then seeing it’s all out of whack… Koyaanisqatsi.”

“Koy aannnn isqatsiii.” Dave droned the sound of the words dramatically in his best baritone.

“And we think we’ve figured something out… consciousness… the great mystery of consciousness is the most important thing… the most fundamental facet of existence… that which makes everything real… that which is the key to the greatest depths… the vast expanse of the unknown territory of the unconscious mind and its motivations.”

“Right!”

“And if we could understand it… if we could be enlightened… if the inner is the outer… then the key to peace, harmony with nature lies in our consciousness… in altering it… exploring it… Western man has just stopped eating enough mushrooms and not having enough orgies anymore… if only we still did these things… we wouldn’t be strangling mother nature with a plastic bag all the fucking time.” I continued.

“Right on!”

“And if we took the time to understand our very personal and special relationship with God… whoever they or we are… everything would be a whole lot nicer… and then it sort of sounds a lot like George Harrison in 1967… that the only way you’re going to change the world is by changing yourself first… so you might as well stay home and meditate and do nothing… and let the game of shadows play out on the wall.”

“While there’s a riot in the street.” Dave guessed where I was going.

“And you’re exploring what is this God… who is this character that still exists when it’s not thinking… when it’s not it’s memories… when it’s not it’s sensations… when it is nothing more than the one breath… the drop in the ocean of consciousness… and then the ego will fight back and consider… but who created who… who is playing hide and seek with who and for what reason… why is there evil… why do we see bad guys winning… is this reality actually corrupted… is it a videogame… is it the prison planet… the farm… is it actually the Demiurge in charge up there… did someone mess with our DNA.”

“Ancient aliens.” Dave did his best spooky TV announcer voice.

“McKenna gave us the stoned ape... and now we have Graham Hancock laying on the ancient origins pretty thick… almost like propaganda for the curious… the intellectual… the clever to cloister around and talk over the water cooler.”

“A water cooler moment.” Dave said with an American twang.

“And think… what conspiracy is afoot… between the greys, the reptilians, the nordics… the archons… did they come and try and steal all the gold… make us slaves… give us some power of thought… animal husbandry… but not quite the full 5 dimensional perception of the third eye opened man… and the aliens went away… or into hiding… and the whole planet is acting like they lost their daddy.”

“Oh I like this one… we trash the planet in rebellion… ‘cause we miss daddy?” He said with a wicked grin.

“Maybe… we’re making daddy God… of course the real God is somewhere else.” I considered.

“Somewhere deep inside... hare kṛṣṇa hare kṛṣṇa, kṛṣṇa kṛṣṇa hare hare, hare rāma hare rāma, rāma rāma hare hare.” Dave sang.

“Whenever I walk down Grafton Street they always seem to stop me, I don’t know why, it’s the whole free book for a donation deal. The last time the guy was advising me to cut my hair, explaining it was unclean dead matter. I told him the story about Samson cutting his hair and losing all his power, I think I might have converted him. Sometimes I think hair is like an antenna right? Anyway you know some of those guys?” I asked

“Man, they always have the best hash… I’m friendly enough to trade records and dope… I don’t go to the saunas.” He laughed in derision.

“Oh man… there’s another cult to join… the Dublin sauna scene.” I laughed.

“Take a hit man.” Dave offered me the joint.

“Oh no… no thanks… you’re fucking up my presentation enough as it is.” I really didn’t want to smoke anymore, I thought I was gracious enough to just accept my hosts spiked food.

“Do go on.” Dave refueled his brain with the joint.

“You see what I mean? And now… for the young who think… what the fuck happened to the chance of a job… what are these banks up to… I’m going to have to work ‘till I’m how old? And maybe I should start voting for the far right… and the far left… and maybe I should do something… you get Russell Brand… yeah don’t vote… don’t do anything… maybe meditate… maybe spend your time researching the ancient aliens and smoking DMT in the park… maybe you’ll be the one to crack the code… get to the next level… but all that political stuff and strange wars in foreign exotic lands bringing home refugees to live next door… it’s very confusing… best to forget about all that complicated stuff isn’t it… for surely you can only change the world by changing yourself first… and are you really the best version of yourself you can be… isn’t there a book… or some ayahuasca you should try?”

“Right… it’s a repackage of the greatest hits.” He said in a haze of smoke. “Yeah… join the psychedelic concentration camp of the mind.”

“‘Cause shit ain’t going to change out there without a real street fight.”

“But it’s attractive y’know?”

“We all did it.” He nodded again.

“You do learn something… or remember something and you think… yeah if we are all a bit more… conscientiously conscious… things would be a lot better… but are we fighting ourselves… the corrupted human… or are we always fighting the profit margin? The psychopathic parasite that has attached itself to humanity.”

“And everything that can make us free...”

“Can make us a slave… we’re all bound by invisible chains… the slave masters don’t have to worry about a revolt until the slaves realise they’re fucking slaves!” I said trying not to rant.

“And all the distractions take the edge off… the alcohol is marked as acceptable… heroin is pushed on the inner city horrible fucked up childhood… and threat of community recognising its power to organise… the middle class get the weed and the mushrooms and whatever the fuck is coming out of Chinese labs now… LSD Ketamine 1­p.” Dave laughed.

“Exactly… and isn’t it easy to get all this shit?”

“The research chemical stuff? Yeah… but I don’t get one thing in all this… matrix around us… we have alcohol and tobacco as the legal drugs and they get taxed right? Weed has all these supposed health benefits so that must be a threat to pharmaceuticals… and they’re competing trying to figure out a way cannabis medicines can be patented… and that's got to be a worse product for people… you can’t just patent the plant right? So you got to make some shitty derivative drug… and you get all the legalise weed people… ok?

“And then you have this whole prison industrial complex, making billions on locking up people on pointless minor drug charges… all those people's lives are fucked right there… and it’s all profit right? So I mean I get confused… exactly what they want people doing… like legalise it… or lock everybody up… I mean…” He coughed.

“I think it's to get the customer coming both ways… get them on the illegal market… and then catch them and lock them in the prison system… they don’t care… either way they get a slice of you and a nice profit.”

“So they never really try to get rid of the illegal market?” He asked as he spat phlegm out the window and sat down again.

“They’ve got to be controlling it.”

“And if something does get legalised… or turned into a patented drug then they got you there as well… what they don’t want is you growing your own weed and some poppies in the garden… isn’t it crazy those things are just plants? Like God provided the weed for some like psychic insight and making music… and the poppy if you hurt yourself… and the peyote and mushrooms for the vision quest.” He shook his head in wonderment.

“It’s intriguing… what are the odds of those South American tribes discovering the combination of plants that created ayahuasca?” I felt like Dave was blowing smoke right in my face, I got up to leave the windows open.

“Ah man you’ll ruin it… I’m saving money for us!” He protested.

“Everyone in the building must be stoned.” I opened the windows and then pointed at the ceiling. Dave just grinned at me.

“Some people think sometimes you get hash that's been mixed with opium.” Dave kept up his grin.

“We’ll have to watch Dumbo.” I joked but thought Dave looked like he was starting to mull the idea over in his saturated mind.

“Anyway.” I continued, feeling as though I had to complete some tangential point that would complete the argument. “It’s all a means of control… and when you think you’ve evaded control… out in the open and free… are you only then sitting right in the middle of another mouse trap for the soul… so the third summer of love could be the nail in the coffin of the human spirit… or a chance to to be a temporal example of dancing free... or the actual dawn.”

“But you got to choose… make decisions… otherwise you’re just going to sit in a cave and fuck… you might as well be dead… I like some of these sensational distractions.” Dave grinned.

“I know you do… but as long as you know they’re distractions and you don’t actually think the path of distraction is the same path to freedom… like getting stoned and… watching ancient aliens… drugs can open your eyes… but you’re not going to see God… you’re going to see a different reality that has as many conmen tricksters as our ordinary banal reality.” I tried to explain what seemed important to say to Dave.

“I know man. Listen you can crash here… I’m going out on a date.” He stood up suddenly and almost fainted.

“A date?” I was shocked that Dave would actually go on any kind of date.

“Yeah it’s an app… it’s pretty cool… y’know people always want something similar and like… y’know what’s your favorite movie and TV show and band… and this app lets you meet someone in person… where they’re within a mile of you… and then if you both decide to meet you sit beside each other… and it does this really cool augmented reality where you use the phone to see each other… and you see the person in your favourite movie or whatever… and then like you go off and…”

“Get off.” I laughed.

“Yeah… I mean…” He shrugged.

“It feels like the novelty is accelerating.”

“Right.” Dave laughed. “Listen man take it easy here, check out some of the records… I think there’s more hash in the kitchen and some pizza and stuff… ok man… I’ll catch you later.” Dave saluted me like he was in the army and then staggered out the door.

I got up and opened the window as wide as possible. I hadn’t planned to be stoned and wondered about the theory some hash was mixed with opium as I felt a rising warm current flying out the top of my head. I looked out on a dark street with cars continuously streaming past at the end of the road. The sound of the city at night was a mix of breaking glass, car horns and screaming girls.

It looked like a chore to even casually look through Dave’s record stacks, instead I was drawn to the only feature in the room, a glass case filled with books, DVD’s, VHS tapes and cassettes. I began scanning Dave’s reading material. I noticed; Dune, The Thrawn Trilogy, Swamp Thing, The Metamorphosis and Hermann Hesse’s Demian, Siddhartha and Steppenwolf.

I flicked through Demian and was immediately thrown by the book being in German and having numerous passages highlighted in yellow. I flicked through the whole book to see it had been thoroughly read and marked. I was thinking it must have been part of some lot Dave had cleared, he sure as hell didn’t speak German.

Dave stumbled through the door. “Man I’ve forgotten my phone.”

“It’s not here.” I looked around and then looked at Dave who was wavering. I walked over and looked in the pocket of his brown leather jacket, the phone was there, I took it out and handed it to him.

“Ha ha! You’re a lifesaver man.” Dave laughed and started checking his phone.

“Listen… is this stuff yours? Have you read Hesse?” I asked, nodding towards the glass case.

“Oh man you have some psychic powers… or this really is the best shit ever!” He showed me a massive joint he’d just rolled.

“Yeah man… I forgot to say the few bits and bobs of Brian’s that were mixed in with the records are over there… cassette tapes and shit… I just put them away in case anyone wanted them… everyone’s always leaving their shit here… man, you know those books are Lexies! Figures you'd pick that one right off... first choice out of the box... right?” He laughed.

“In German?” I asked feeling slightly dazed at the reappearance of Lexie.

“Yeah she speaks German.” He smiled.

“Right... of course... you ever read these? The Hesse novels?” I asked wondering what other meanings were present.

“Nah... well man I did try to play The Glass Bead Game until joining this… mysterious decadent game... and there the chick is texting me... ok man... catch up with ya.” He stumbled into the corridor as I shut the door with some relief.

I looked in amazement at the cassettes, I remembered seeing the one marked 'etc' in London. I put it in Dave's stereo without hesitating and lay down on the old sofa. I felt like I was floating in a warm red velvet haze. I was slightly paranoid but mostly wasted. I didn't know how to take the hospitality without giving something of myself to Dave. I lay back and as I listened imagined a little book shop sometime in recent memory as the hiss of the tape rolled into a mumbling, coughing, cup clanging live audience sound of a minor splinter of time captured for Brian’s archive.

Tape Recording:

Interviewer: “So I think we’re going to continue… ok Roger… thanks… so we’re continuing with Poetry Vs Silent Weapons… now Edith let us go back to your comments about Cagliostro, you believe this famous story about him leaving the rather cryptic message on the wall of his cell... I have it here 'in 1789 the besieged Bastille will on July 14th be pulled down by you from top to bottom.' You believe then that Cagliostro was acting as an agent of the Knights Templar?”

Edith: “Yes I believe so, it's clear he had followed the path of the Egyptian Rite of Freemasonry. He remains deeply mysterious and it is quite hard for us to separate fact from myth in his case. We know how hated he was by his enemies who saw him as nothing less than the Devil himself! Of course his friends believed he was an immortal, an ascended master initiated into Rosicrucian alchemy by Comte de Saint Germain himself.

“We know Cagliostro initiated many women of French high society as an attempt to reform and enlighten the society from within. I believe they hoped to restore the primacy of the mystery of the sacred union, the hieros gamos. They believed the divine feminine power of the goddess Isis had been suppressed since the beginning of Western culture, but it had always remained hidden in waiting by the mystery schools. We know Princess de Lamballe was the high priestess of Isis at that time, initiated by Cagliostro and in frequent contact with St Germain.”

Interviewer: “What else do we know about this era? The role of St Germaine? Are we seeing the same figures appearing through history under different names?”

Edith: “It’s very interesting, we know Mozart was a disciple of Cagliostro and I believe he was attempting to spread the mysteries of Isis through his illuminated music, especially in the Magic Flute which has much vital information encoded within. I do wonder if Mozart is perhaps the first young… rock star to meet an untimely end for bringing light to the masses. I do still like to work with Mozart playing joyously in the background. As for St Germain himself… it is quite the remarkable story.”

Interviewer: “Could you share some of your research on St Germain with us?”

Edith: “Yes of course, it's hard to know where to start, I know we're with quite an informed group today, he is a truly remarkable figure who can appear to both be completely absent from the generally known idea of history... the history we are taught in school and university... and he can appear at times to be completely central, appearing and reappearing at key moments... as a man... we know him as a great historian, a man with an expert knowledge of the entirety of civilization... he was the classic modern man of his age, a man who could speak English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Greek, Latin, Arabic... even Chinese and Sanskrit... we're told he was an expert in chemistry, poetry... a musician who wrote opera... when we talk about being educated today I think you can see how far we have all fallen.”

Interviewer: “Yes, nobody understands Latin and the whole world is learning English to trade... do you have an image of him? When you think of him how does he appear to you?”

Edith: “What an interesting question! I would like him to appear to me! I suppose I have not quite cracked that code... we do have some of his own work on canvas and they are quite remarkable... it is said he mixed powdered mother of pearl with his pigments to create a canvas that seemed to even glow... to be illuminated from within and it is quite apt I think. I do imagine him with a faintly luminous aura around him... if that is not too romantic for today's rather brutal cynicism about the great men of history.”

Brian: “I'd say skepticism.”

Edith: “Yes quite, it is of course about discernment... one's own inner navigator... I think we are all here today because of similar thoughts.”

Interviewer: “Yes and it's a great opportunity to explore some key ideas that are... very fringe for.. all the people outside this room I imagine! But please go on... what do we really know about St Germain?”

Edith: “Yes we must try and separate the myth from the historical record but the myth is important as well, it is part of the understanding rather than separate from it, I believe the rather... hardline atheists are missing something in dismissing everything as fairy tale... but I won't replay our earlier arguments with Roger. So yes, now we have many remarkable stories of alchemy... of him providing nothing less than the fountain of youth, a potion of his own concoction to a lady in the court of Louis XV that granted her a perfectly extended youth of some 25 more years! We know he warned Marie Antoinette that the monarchy would fall, in essence we know in this period he was a key figure, one can imagine him being something in between a spy and a diplomat with an expert knowledge of the European Royal Families and their governments.

“He appears everywhere under many pseudonyms as the Marquis de Montferrat, Comte Bellamare at Venice, Chevalier Schoening at Pisa, Chevalier Weldon at Milan and Leipzig, Comte Soltikoff at Genoa and Leghorn, Graf Tzarogy at Schwalbach and Triesdorf, Prinz Ragoczy at Dresden, and Comte de St. Germain at Paris, The Hague, London, and St. Petersburg.

“What his exact role was and his direct impact on the key events of this time are still obscured to us. We know for sure he was directly involved... for instance we know he travelled throughout Russia during the reign of Peter III, we have records of him being a notable guest to the Shah of Persia.

“We have records of him appearing in Calcutta... what is most interesting is to find mention of him... to know he is more than a phantom... in surviving letters and memoirs of Frederick the Great, Voltaire, Madame de Pompadour, Rousseau, Chatham, and Walpole.”

Interviewer: “Have you concluded if he was an original member of the first illuminists meetings? I am not sure which name describes them best at this point? I presume you don't wish to use illuminati... and you believe the Kingdom of... is something quite different? Or much later?”

Edith: “I think people would say today... a rebranding! Or an effort to discredit... we are often fed one truth alongside two lies... so it is up to us to use our God given powers... it is with only our intellect and our intuition can we navigate this... maze of history... it most likely is impossible to figure out everything at this point... even to the extent of 20th Century history.”

Interviewer: “You think so? Even the last 100 years... you don't think...?”

Edith: “No, we can discern, we must discern... we cannot know everything but we can piece things together... otherwise... I have spent my life in the ivory tower.”

Interviewer: “No, I think we all have found your work remarkable... so at this point St. Germain is appearing as a key figure in the Freemasons and possibly the early configuration of the Bavarian Illuminati?”

Edith: “I believe so, what is also worth considering is that he may also have been the head of the Rosicrucian’s at this time.”

Interviewer: “Was he acting as a double agent... a triple agent?”

Edith: “It is possible, some of their aims would not be mutually exclusive of course... but we know how the original Bavarian Illuminati splintered into many groups with many different agendas from the time of the American and French revolutions... and all the way to the Bolsheviks taking over Russia... we would like to believe... well as Brian would say we don't want to place anybody on a marble pedestal... but it does bear thinking that St Germain could be an illuminated being rather than a member of the Illuminati... I believe so... we know he studied many Eastern systems like Yoga and Buddhism... there are wonderful stories of him having a retreat in the Himalayas where he would disappear from the world.”

Brian: “Superman's fortress of solitude.”

Edith: “Yes indeed... I know Brian is joking but we all know how encoded our popular culture is... it is quite hard to watch one of these popular fantasy films without feeling one is being subconsciously initiated... or rather one's subconscious mind is being initiated while the conscious mind is absorbing the spectacle and shock of... explosions and spaceships and... a kind of casual death.”

Interviewer: “Yes this is very true but I believe we will get on to some of these ideas about... silent warfare... or what did you say earlier Brian?”

Brian: “The war on consciousness... and I guess that includes the war on the subconscious, unconscious, the id, ego and superego.”

Interviewer: “Yes, yes, we will discuss this... but Edith please... you were saying…”

Edith: “So we have records of these interests in the East and that perhaps he was in India for as long as 85 years.”

Interviewer: “After his adventures in the courts of Europe?”

Edith: “Yes, he appears to vanish for this time, normal history would record him as of course being dead... what we are interested in is the evidence that suggests he may have been in the East... a member of another mystery school that we have no name for, the mystery school that perhaps might be the real one... some name it only as the secret brotherhood... now we have to think of these different mystery schools as being like a series of concentric rings... in some temples in the East those who are studying to be a monk... perhaps since they are a child are only aware of that first school or the first temple.

“Until they graduate these basic teachings do they learn there is a second temple inside the school and they learn these teachings only to discover there is indeed a third temple... and if they master these skills they discover there is indeed a fourth temple and the fourth temple is where the real esoteric teachings of alchemy... the immortality of the soul... when we hear the strange stories about the dugpas in Tibet... I feel it would be too speculative of me to imagine St Germain was a dugpa... or even a member of the Brothers of the Shadows... but it is a thought I must contemplate.”

Interviewer: “You don't want to go there?”

Edith: “I do not have the evidence but... as I said my intuitive side suggests certain connections... and I am fascinated by St Germain... there is enough provable history to make him a great historical character but what is suggested is so intriguing... that one cannot help but wonder do we have evidence of an ascended master living beyond time? I am intrigued by there being a reference to a Muscovite being an advisor to the prior Dalai Lama... and I wonder... I can only speculate... we must discern... and we must get past much propaganda of the Freemasons who dearly want to name St Germain as one of their own... but we can only pity those Freemasons who are only members of the first temple.”

Interviewer: “There is some evidence he died during the French revolution?”

Edith: “Yes we have a sighting in this period but also a later one in about 1860, who knows where he might be today.”

Interviewer: “So you don't believe St Germain and Francis Bacon could have been the same person?”

Edith: “I believe anything is possible, I believe it's also possible there were or that there are several ascended masters who are operating as a counterbalance to history... a counter conspiracy I suppose you could say... I think that is clear... we know Francis Bacon died on Easter Sunday 9th April 1626... and it seems very probable that he faked his own death... what better time than Easter? The secret societies have quite the strange sense of humour at times and quite the thing for the cycle of death and rebirth... I find many people miss this key point when becoming lost in the whole phenomena of the... what do they call it Brian? Paul McCartney's death in the 1960's?”

Brian: “Paul is dead.”

Edith: “Yes quite, I'm the least expert on that curious subject... I'm sure Brian would know rather more but the little I do know suggests it's the classic case of a symbolic death as a practice of initiation into a new life... the Ordo Templi Orientis in his case... I believe?”

Brian: “I think so.”

Interviewer: “That makes sense to me. It's a fascinating discussion but I hope we're not losing some people, I know everybody here is keenly interested but for those who are new to this material...”

Brian: “I do think Faul has a funny nose though.”

Edith: “Yes it is confusing but deliberately so, we are talking about myth and fact simultaneously. I am certain Francis Bacon was one of the key figures, who most likely wrote the King James Bible and the works of Shakespeare and I would think it is very likely he faked his own death to either continue his work or to retire... or most fantastically of all... to shed his body for the next incarnation.”

Interviewer: “And you do take that as a serious possibility?”

Edith: “I am not as some of my critics would say a propagator of theosophia... or even risk hypostatizing metaphysics... but I must take it seriously as I do believe he is the man who wrote 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'

“I like to imagine anything is possible and for me the possibility of ascended masters amongst us is... something empowering for humanity... that we are in reality using so little of our powers... of our vast intelligence and potential... these are ideas of hope and courage... the ordinary people are allowed to sip from the most polluted waters... a rather simplified fantasy version in something like... a fantasy film like Star Wars... and that's something so beloved by people... something discovered in their childhood and that very cleverly talks directly to their subconscious... but we're clearly told this is something in space and it's long ago... it is but a prepubescent dream of a golden age... one we aren't to expect is real or ever possible... the child is given some useful ideas about good and evil but are given no path other than to be a consumer with dreams that are funneled into more products.

“It is all rather ironic how information comes to us now, I suppose it is all about packaging and branding. For instance I think people here will know the work of Rudolph Steiner and I think you can see his ideas at operation quite clearly in Star Wars. It's interesting how these things crop up, for instance I'm quite sure Obi Wan Kenobi is essentially the image and essence of Alan Watts in his samurai robes if you visited him on his houseboat in the 60’s or 70’s.”

Interviewer: “Alan Watts, the philosopher, populariser of Buddhism would you say?”

Edith: “He had this role yes, also strongly influenced by Hinduism I would say.”

Brian: “Hide and seek.”

Edith: “Yes he did try to make God possible… for people to find again… we’re talking within Western intellectual structures and systems of course.”

Interviewer: “Who do you think he was?”

Edith: “He was…”

Brian: “It’s possible he was another spook taking on an assignment or finding a second career in the new age.”

Edith: “I still quite like some of his ideas.”

Brian: “Yes, we can’t expect the sign posts to be as perfect as the destination.”

Interviewer: “Why is Star Wars so resonant? I realise my own son has practically grown up on Lucasfilm product, Star Wars, video games, Indiana Jones… I see this repackaging of myth along with hollyweird violence and…”

Edith: “It is the monomyth, I haven’t actually seen the films of course.”

Brian: “I think it’s a story of fear, of what happens when someone gives into fear and then all the worst things come true, the sense of loss, it is the road to perdition for Darth Vader.”

Interviewer: “And Vader thinks he is gaining control, by turning to the dark side?”

Brian: “The illusion of control, the illusion at the heart of all political and philosophic systems, that man can be made into something other than a man through ideology… and this is what we see leading humanity to disaster in the 20th Century.”

Interviewer: “You believe there is an argument for anarchy?”

Brian: “Everybody can handle order, only a genius can handle chaos, according to Einstein… and I like to think chaos offers something… a way to discover cracks… where the light gets in.”

Edith: “Chaos also attracts the psychopath.”

Brian: “Yes but so does fractional reserve banking.”

Interviewer: “What do we see happening now? In the big picture?”

Edith: “I have mentioned the idea of the monomyth and this is an idea that overtook the 20th Century, it becomes too complex to complete the picture from the time of St. Germaine… but if we look at how the collective became the individual over the course of the century… how we embraced or… you could argue we were encouraged to embrace this century of the self… to be the perfect model of the atomised individual who seeks their identity and their very meaning in a cold and dead materialistic universe… purely through the products they buy.”

Interviewer: “What is this turning into now? We see austerity everywhere.”

Edith: “I do think austerity is essentially the rationing of resources by a failing system that has narrowly avoided collapse, now it is consolidating its control for a slow motion car crash, a gradual restructuring of the world order… it appears that the powers that be are envisioning a return to the collective.”

Interviewer: “Does this collective look like the Soviet Union? 1984? A Brave New World?”

Edith: “Well 1984 had that marvelous if not terrible idea that each year would be so similar after a certain point that it would be 1984 forever… and certainly culture is now nothing more than sensation… and the news is a never ending war in Eurasia.”

Brian: “I wondered if 1999 or 2000 could be the year of endless repetition, a friend of mine had planned to write a novel about humanity entering a computer simulation in 99… I’m not entirely sure if he didn’t convince himself in the end but then The Matrix came out in 99 and he abandoned it… anyway in some ways it does seem if things have been the same since 2001 in many ways.

“I want to say though if we do return to something more collective, if young people are becoming like the borg in Star Trek with their addiction to social media… and are quite ignorant of the degree of manipulation going on to manufacture not only their consent but… their very personalities… their sexuality… how to be a good consumer and citizen of the world… but I think we must try to remember what is valuable… to sieve the culture for the gold dust… if the freedom of rock n roll was one trap we should remember how… why it made us feel free in the first place.”

Edith: “Yes in the post war culture we were sold individualism, until perhaps it is unprofitable now so we will be sold collectivism again.”

Interviewer: “I can see this, are the same products coming with the latest message? I mean will we have nothing but Star Wars, Star Trek, Batman, Superman, The X Men and whatever… forever?”

Brian: “They’ll use what works, as long as people buy the ticket… nostalgia is a strange thing, some people have nostalgia for Sgt. Pepper and the next generation has nostalgia for… The Orb… and I suppose there is a generation with nostalgia for the Spice Girls… what does that mean? Nothing in itself… but what we form attachment to in our youth is…

Interviewer: “Prime programming?”

Brian: “Yes… but we do make real emotional attachments I think and then… are fleeced and initiate our children into liking… the Beatles or a football team or… fascism or whatever… does the child really like any of these things… is it just their environment…”

Interviewer: “Yes it is a philosophical tangent, we were talking how things are shifting… if we are seeing the message… if not the reality change now…”

Brian: “Frank Zappa had this great quote, I actually wrote it down in my notebook, I’m not a great person for remembering quotes, he said…

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it's profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”

Interviewer: “Yes, I know this quote, it’s very interesting… who do you think Zappa was? He has his own strange history.”

Brian: “He was the greatest satirist of his day, the closest thing kids have now is South Park from what I’ve seen… and I really don’t follow the… pop culture… well since about 1980… but yeah I know what you mean, he has those army connections with his parents, like a lot of American rockers who came to prominence after world war 2 and you can debate if everybody had parents who worked for the government because of world war 2 or you can wonder if it’s odd if everyone from Jim Morrison to Zappa and Stephen Stills was a spook baby.”

Interviewer: “What do you think? You’re the only person we have here today who knew some of these people, who lived the life.”

Unknown Voice: “Did Leonard Cohen write Bob Dylan’s lyrics?” (laughter)

Brian: “Well he did a good job… I don’t want to get into everything though… it’s a long winded road, look y’know Zappa never did drugs if you don’t count the cigarettes and beer… I think he was pretty sure LSD was some sort of psyop on the hippie culture… and he saw the whole AIDS epidemic in the 80’s as the same kind of government experimentation gone awry. He liked to say he was of the freak culture, he celebrated the idiosyncratic, if not making reality rather more regimented for his employees.”

Interviewer: “What can we learn… now we are all embracing the latest technology… we’re surrendering our privacy without a fight… the Stasi could only have dreamed to know what Facebook or Google know about us.”

Edith: “1984 gave us the false narrative or rather a false reality that is implemented by the state and we have this, we have total surveillance… while A Brave New World sees people quite happy to consume the soma and sleep and I think people are quite delighted with all this new technology and are embracing their slavery… they are happy to be consumers… while the skyrocketing rates of addiction and suicide removes those who feel too much like hollow men.”

Interviewer: “Yes I think this is true, Brian can I bring you back in here... you've said you hoped to publish a travel book... and you've been to some exotic places like Afghanistan... is St Germain… or Francis Bacon a key figure for you? An avatar one could say.”

Brian: “Well Edith is the expert on St Germain and I'm fascinated, I will have to read her book. I've always been interested in Francis Bacon, he is someone that appeared in my studies early on, even before the days of making magic circles in the squats. There were strange people around in my childhood and I was turned on pretty early to people like Francis Bacon and later Gurdjieff... I did feel at times I was being nudged along... when I had doubts or things were difficult and of course I loved the idea that Bacon was really Shakespeare when my teachers were so awful... most of them were just back from the war and barked at you like you were on a parade ground and they were never shy of smacking you across the knuckles... I always felt there was more than meets the eye... I was a skeptical child in a lot of ways but also open to strange things... and the more open I was the more strange things happened.”

Interviewer: “And you went travelling early on?”

Brian: “Well I joined the merchant navy and saw the world first of all as a young man with all my prejudices and assumptions. I got to see it the first go round like an introduction, later I retraced my steps and got to places it would be impossible to get to now... it was a different world.

“I realised the great thing travel could do is allow you to see more of yourself. About how many of your attitudes, your thoughts, your ideas were merely the extension of the culture you had been haphazardly been born into. I don’t know if you can really learn about another culture by travelling. I think you see more of yourself and how you can change and this is a good thing… if you realise it of course. We are full of illusions.

“I have thought of trying to write a book about some of these times... when we see what has happened in Afghanistan and the middle east... you see in my time... my youth I should say... you could actually drive to India... imagine that? We'd share an old bus and drive across Europe, go through Lebanon... sit on the beach... I remember that... looking on the Mediterranean from a beach in Lebanon… remember the lecherous old goats Burroughs and Ginsberg lived in Tangiers… plenty of nice boys to meet.

“It was another world, you could just drive into Iran and buy a rug... and onto India... lots of young guys would be dropped off at Ashrams and never be seen again... others you'd notice re­appearing as advertising executives in the 80's... fully self actualised to sell shit I suppose... but yeah we just drove through the Hindu Kush and tried to make friends with people who probably hadn't seen a white man since Alexander the Great... some Arabs could be funny always calling you 'Roman, Roman'.

“It was a great time to travel... there was no real fear... I mean we had terrible wars happening then... but I think there was less fear... we didn't really expect anything bad to happen and it didn't... the worse thing was probably smoking too much hash... or trying real opium for the first time and finding out why people didn't mind concrete pillows...there was always somebody who'd crack up... and lose their mind for awhile but it's hard not to think they would have cracked up at home anyway... or cracked up going to the office everyday.”

Interviewer: “What was Afghanistan like?”

Brian: “It was extraordinary, this was maybe 5 years before the Soviet Union became embroiled in that terrible war and it was like stepping back in time, you could see what it was like to live in medieval times travelling through India and Pakistan and Afghanistan... it was still a nomadic life for a lot of people and the rest were working in the fields like their ancestors must have done for 10,000 years... what such an ancient ritualised life does to the consciousness of a human being I can't imagine...

"We were arriving with our heads full of school, the Church of England, comic books, rock n roll and all the rest... we were the seekers in search of a way... we knew... some of us knew we weren't going to embrace the new left and communism and Trotsky... and we didn't want to just be consumers... and we were finding out how hard it was going to be to really drop out of Western culture... to really drop out you needed to own your own land, water and electricity... and some people figured that out later on... some settled for a cottage in West Cork and others... got lost in heroin and coke.”

Interviewer: “And you? What was your path? We're lucky to have you here today and... we wonder how you got here.”

Brian: “How did I survive? Luck I guess... well I tried all the paths and none of the paths... I realised there were allies and enemies to fulfilling our human potential... I would meet odd people pretty randomly... I remember one old ex colonial colonel type sharing a drink in Karachi and saying had I ever read about Francis Bacon... and then he would try and convince me to pretend to be dead in some tomb... you found these old hand shaking spooks everywhere... it was a strange time... I remember waking up inside an opium dream and thinking I had ascended and I could leave my body and fly around Kabul... and then really woke up when a dog tried to steal my socks.”

Interviewer: “I think we all hope you write that book.”

Brian: “Yes, it's been a bit of joke amongst my friends to call me a travel writer... but I... perhaps, I think all the expats must be dead by now and the Indians... I wouldn't know how to spell their names correctly... everybody may be protected... it is an idea... but I think we're all here to share our experiences and ideas to first understand what must be defended fully and then we decide what we're for... it's no use being against everything... we must imagine our ideal world.”

Interviewer: “A terrible irony.”

Brian: “Oh yes... you could say that... I know if we imagine there are no borders and there's no nationality or identity and no religion we have something like a theme song for the new world order... and John is the first martyr to be remembered... I guess the proles can have their two minutes of pop remembrance followed by the two minutes of hate.”

Interviewer: “Do you feel sorry for him?”

Brian: “Lennon? I don't know... I think he realised what was going on and tried to get out of the bubble he'd found himself in... it seems likely they assassinated him... it sounds like a classic MKULTRA killing... like Sirhan Sirhan... but then you can't rule out that he was just retired... and is living on an island in the Caribbean somewhere... you wonder if they send them all to the same island... must be like the rock n roll hall of fame at this stage! The story about the doorman to the Dakota building being ex CIA and at the Bay of Pigs is too much... you start sounding like Robert Anton Wilson without the ironically winking E Prime.”

Interviewer: “Yes I see that... before we get into a real look at some of these things... can we go back? Did you get into Tibet in your day?”

Brian: “I did, it's a long story, of course the Chinese were already there... and they've done terrible things, I think they're basically trying to outbreed the Tibetans now and wipe them out in a few generations... you come to realise though Tibet wasn't a utopian society... an incredible place... a fantastical kingdom in the clouds... a place that made you feel like you were in a medieval land like Afghanistan but completely alien and full of weird sights and sounds... incomprehensible traditions... what people practice in the West as Buddhism as an evening course... a way to relax after a long day at the office... is just... it's just staggeringly alien to the reality of the real Tibetan traditions... they aren't trying to chill out after a long days droning on Kailash... they believe they're in contact with another world, spirits and demons... it's very intriguing the idea St Germain or Francis Bacon retired back to Tibet... or returned to ascend... or to be rebirthed as a bodhisattva in the next generation.”

Interviewer: “Do you think Mao had a special reason for being there? For wanting Tibet?”

Brian: “Well... there's obvious territorial issues... and they probably didn't want a strongly religious state possibly influencing their own people... or they feared there would be Western influence through Tibet... that's very possible and you can see how something odd has happened with the Dalai Lama in the West... I don't know... but you have to remember the Nazi's wanted to get to Tibet... just as they wanted to see Glastonbury... anyway I do think they thought Tibet was a source or... it provided a direct connection to something... and they wanted it. I did have friends at the time who believed the earth is hollow and another world exists underground where the Gods come from and Tibet is the only place on the planet that allows direct access to this other world. Personally I couldn’t say.”

Interviewer: “What do you remember the most about your time there?”

Brian: “The mountains... and a hard, stoic people who seemed to be plugged into something... it was like visiting an alien planet... and I was lucky to get in at the time... I thought I would get a glimpse of these Dugpa... but I realised the Brothers of the Shadows stretched further than you could imagine... it would be easier to meet someone in London who wears a redcap.”

Interviewer: “You believe everything is connected?”

Brian: “Oh definitely... but everybody doesn't have the same agenda... and every group has its double agents... and as was said every truth is surrounded by two lies... it is hard to remain earnest... or even authentic on the path... in many ways... and in many traditions you can understand why the symbolic death is necessary and the acquisition of a new identity is essential to continue the path... you see it even in the middle class kids in pyjamas with a Hindu name... they're a pale echo... and need to eat more protein of course.”

Interviewer: “Pretty manipulated.”

Brian: “Manipulated hope... it's not their fault exactly but... as Edith said... they need to use discernment... the brain has a left and right side and people need to learn to use both... otherwise you'll always be manipulated by one side.”

Interviewer: “Manipulated by emotional impulse and then by reasoning? Can you tell us more about Tibet?”

Brian: “Oh I don't know... if people can they should visit. There is no where else like it on the planet... but I think the same about the West of Ireland and many places... Tibet is beautiful, I think of the million coloured prayer flags flying in the sky, from the valleys to the mountains, dreams in the wind.”

Edith: “When was the last time you were in that part of the world?”

Brian: “A long time ago, I was in Nepal in 79, I went on a rather odd quixotic quest to try to help a magickal film come about... we hoped to film something in the mountains for the summer solstice in 79 and instead... it turned out to be a funeral pyre... I remember that well, seeing Angus MaClise just before he died on the solstice... some of us hoped his spirit could be redirected into a new incarnation so the magikal process would be complete.”

Interviewer: “You were still interested in attempting something... magickal?”

Brian: “It was a weird situation... Angus had travelled to Nepal with his wife and child after they came to believe his son was the reincarnation of a Tibetan saint... he lived a strange life.”

Interviewer: “What happened to his son?”

Brian: “I have actually being trying to find out but... you see at the time, when he died... we thought there was much unfinished work... and believed... well as Edith might say about the fabled illuminati... much is only possible over generations... so we encouraged him to come right back... we had a friend who was pregnant... and you know in Buddhism the cycle of life and death that is represented by the number of days spent in the womb... and we were imagining the number of days Angus would be in this kind of purgatory... we were calculating the number of days the baby might be born in... and we were... we had planned to take a heavy cocktail on the peak of the mountains... right as the sun set on the solstice it was all a rather heady time.”

Interviewer: “What happened?”

Brian: “Well... life, the wheel turns, Angus was cremated in the traditional manner and my friend had her child... I came back to Europe and was made a kind of godfather.”

Interviewer: “And we should say, Angus MaClise was the original drummer for the Velvet Underground and avant garde music... drone maker... proponent of cut up and part of that whole scene... were you involved in any of these... fascinating recordings we now have available?”

Brian: “It has been interesting to see so much of this material come to light, I don't believe Angus would have offered this work for sale.”

Interviewer: “He famously quit the Velvet Underground when they were offered money for a gig.”

Brian: “A nice story.”

Interviewer: “You think so?”

Edith: “How did you know Angus?”

Brian: “I knew of Angus through Gerard Malanga and knew something of the dream weapons but I didn’t meet Angus in 3D until Woodstock. Angus was there with a motley group of musicians, the free tribal orchestra, at the side of the stage of course, I don’t think anybody had invited them. Even then people were railing against rock becoming too corporate. I remember we made some good noise.”

Interviewer: “Did you ever record properly with him?”

Brian: “Well I did help record something, I wouldn't ever call myself a musician but sound is a very powerful force. We did some drones that rang in the mountains, secrets whispered to stones and summer of avalanches. White and black beasts in the snow, the sun on snow radiant and a drone forever back to ever now and forever now, time to remember all is possible now.”

Interviewer: “Ok, thank you Brian... I think now... Harold is joining us.”

Harold: “Thank you, I'm sorry I'm so late... the traffic is a nightmare with every mother in London picking up their kid with their own individual SUV... I remember Notting Hill rather differently.”

Interviewer: “Yes we thought it would be interesting to see what echoes remain on this spot, we're thankful to Roger for opening the bookshop to us... and I think a lot of us here have some memories of the Free School... and I know there are people here continuing in that spirit... now Harold we're delighted you've made it for the end of our special meeting here today... we've been talking about Edith's wonderful book on St Germain and the mythology of the ascended masters... we were just talking to Brian about some of his travels... we hope to see that book soon... and we see so many things that overlap and connect... and we know your work ties into many of the things that all concern us in this silent war.”

Harold: “I don't know if it's a war but rather a post mortem.”

Interviewer: “You think it's over already?”

Harold: “There is a great fight for the soul of humanity... but as most people deny they have a soul at all...”

Brian: “In the West.”

Harold: “Yes, in the West and the West is not the whole world... but it is the West that operates as though it is the whole world.”

Interviewer: “And China now?”

Harold: “Yes things are swinging from descendent to ascendant and back again... there is no doubt the same people only get richer... and the more they control the creation of money and all the earth's resources... the more they control all of us... in some ways a history of the great wars is a waste of time... they are all merely further banking actions and reconfigurations.”

Interviewer: “Well let us first get a grasp of what is in action... shall we? Brian has just been talking about Afghanistan.”

Harold: “Yes, a fascinating country... a wonderful... undefeated people... who have suffered greatly... we cannot imagine... but it is the same game as it has always been... instead of the excuse or fear of communism for a war to control the golden triangle of drug production in Southeast Asia... now we have this endless war on terrorism as a front for this war... to control the golden crescent... and Afghanistan is at the centre of that and of course it always will be.”

Interviewer: “And you don't think oil or terrorism is a factor at all?”

Harold: “Oh things always overlap but I think it's clear opium production has only exploded since the Taliban lost control of the poppy fields... it would be the simplest thing in the world to stop all opium production by just paying the farmers to grow food... but will that ever happen? We know the profits of the war machine made the Vietnam war horrifically long... and of course the Vietnamese were never defeated because they weren't communists... they were nationalists fighting for the right to self determination... such irony is always lost on Americans.”

Interviewer: “Yes, indeed, I think many people who look through even just the post war history can see key things emerging, we have decades of nationally and internationally prominent so­ called journalists on the CIA payroll controlling the narrative, I think everyone here has heard of Operation Mockingbird.

Harold: “We saw JFK assassinated because they were furious about the failure of their insane Bay of Pigs fiasco and the peaceful resolution of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Whether Castro was on the company's payroll as well is a mystery. The left hand does not often know what the right hand is doing. We saw the faked Gulf of Tonkin intelligence to get the United States Congress to pass the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution giving the military industrial complex and Lyndon Johnson their false flag incident to escalate the Vietnam War, which I would agree was vital to the control of the Golden Triangle's heroin supplies... and of course this itself created a fake reality about the war for decades.

“We then see the company destabilizing Afghanistan to encourage invasion by the Soviets and as Harold said this is crucial to the golden crescent. The company then encourages Jimmy Carter to welcome the Shah of Iran in exile and creates a pretext for decades of enmity between Iran and the United States and completely destroy Jimmy Carter's Presidency.

“Regan comes in but doesn't last long before getting the message, Mr. CIA himself Bush Snr then encourages Saddam Hussein to invade Kuwait to give America the pretext to declare war on Iraq.

“I think everyone in this room believes they were behind the 9/11/2001 false flag attacks on the World Trade Center towers, and their destruction with controlled explosive demolitions charges, and the drone attack on the Pentagon. The same people lied that it was all an Al Qaeda plot.

They obviously lied about Al Qaeda's role in 9/11/2001 to justify the invasion of Afghanistan with its rich poppy fields for heroin production; they lied about Iraqi weapons of mass destruction to justify President George W. Bush's war of aggression against Iraq; they lie about whatever whenever it suits their agenda; they lie to control the narrative of the government's monopoly on truth.”

Brian: “And Allende.”

Harold: “Of course, the list goes on forever, Patrice LuMumba… we know the intelligence services are nothing but the errand boys of the bankers and the bankers want total control and all profits and all resources until the planet is desolated.”

Interviewer: “Is it hopeless to you?”

Harold: “What they want to achieve is their reality, it is not mine, this is where the war upon the mind... what did you call it Brian?”

Brian: “The war on consciousness.”

Harold: “Yes absolutely and we are now in a very dangerous phase. The beast is being cornered, it is gradually being forced to come into the light by its own disastrous actions, of course who can say how much chaos in the world is deliberate? I have just retired from a lifetime of working on an American college campus, when I was a young lecturer in England I thought America would be my great escape and it was for a time but I could not help but become embroiled... we're talking about the Vietnam era... an era as full of fakery as now... as embroiled in this war on consciousness... yet we saw a genuine mass movement against the war... and you have to ask why do we see no movement now? Is everybody just an apathetic consumer? Where is the great movement against the banks for instance? Where are the protests against endless war? I know we no longer have the draft but for how long?

“We see young people obsessed about some vague notion of social justice, the neo left is distracting everybody with trivialities, nobody is sure which bathroom to use, people will protest over the lack of a safe space, my God the world has no safe spaces, these children are nothing but pathetic pawns in a game so vicious they cannot imagine. Where are the great protest movement against endless war, extrajudicial killings, drone attacks?

“Look at our post war history, in 1953 the United States overthrew the democratically elected government of Iran and Americans are told they are hated for their freedom? Can reality be more of a parody? It is a long list of coups and assassinations the US has been involved in, Guatemala 1954, Vietnam in the 1950’s, the Congo in 1961, Brazil 1964, Indonesia 1965, the Dominican Republic 1965, Chile, 1973, Haiti in the 90’s. There is no end to the madness, we have now seen the democratic government of the Ukraine overthrown and replaced by fascists. We see a terrible tragedy unfolding in Syria at the behest of these war pigs. Where are all these bleeding heart children with their protests against the war machine?

“We have to look back and see what the American government has done since Vietnam to win this war on consciousness, for example we know John Ehrlichman, who served as domestic policy chief for President Richard Nixon when the administration declared its war on drugs in 1971, has said the war on drugs was to undermine Nixon’s political opposition, be they opponents of the war or black people organising in the cities. We've seen Public education dumbed down. Kids are taught nothing more but how to sit at a desk for eight hours a day or taught enough to run machines. There is no benefit to teach them how to think.

“If you escape these layers with some naturally surviving curiosity they trap you with cults designed to fill your head with good sounding nonsense, it is the classic trap for the young person who is intelligent enough to doubt their parents beliefs yet do not have the knowledge to discern they are embracing a cult in adopting radical new political and spiritual views. Then if over time critical opposition leaders emerge for the general public you shoot them down and blame a madman such has happened with JFK, his brother and Martin Luther King.

“The state decides who lives and dies, they assume too much from the Demiurge. And of course the whole terrorism narrative controls the public space, what is true, what is a lie, what is real, what is unreal. Gradually the public are convinced through Pavlovian traumatic training the state needs an unending security apparatus and unlimited observation to protect them from phantoms and bogey men which currently seem to favor Islamic fundamentalists. In reality this security apparatus is to control the general public and protect the state from the public if the system collapses or enough people figure out the game going on.

“There are many traps for those who see the first or second layers of control. If you're a Liberty minded person, someone who believes in the constitution or someone who is strongly convinced by the Libertarian argument for small government you will find yourself in a group that has already been created in preparation for your dissent by some splinter of the government. In day to day life, in just watching the TV news you are subject to a constant bombardment of hypnotic suggestion that is combined with their tried and true methods of psychological trauma. They will hit you with a sense of horror, shock or awe, this immediately opens the door to your subconscious quite completely, in the momentary shock they then immediately fill your subconscious mind with some new lie or manipulation.

“For example we all saw the terrible images of the Twin Towers being destroyed... live on television... and this quite awesome spectacle was deeply shocking... it could be a traumatic experience for the subconscious mind in its sheer unexpected shock to the nervous system... this shock opens the space for the new information to be implanted, Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, Afghanistan and then Iraq. Now hypnotic suggestion wears off so it’s necessary to continuously trigger the population into reliving the trauma and the narrative of the trauma with simple keywords and images. On the 9th of September they were quite devious and of course they enjoy their symbolism rather too much, they tell us these are the 9/11 attacks, 9/11 the number in America you ring for the emergency services, so forever to do they connect this date of fear to the number you dial for help.”

Edith: “That is very interesting about the date, can I tell you a friend of mine, Ralph, is a wonderful amateur astronomer and a full time physicist. Now Ralph knows I have this interest in the esoteric and he has his own very interesting ideas about the movement of the planets and I think is quite the believer in the idea the planets moved in the ancient past and thus the dramatic changes this caused on the Earth are reflected in the mythology of the Gods of many civilizations. Now we were talking about this and Ralph told me something very interesting about Jesus' birthday at Christmas. We all know many Christian holidays were placed around the same date of many pagan festivals.

“Now Ralph believes they are all essentially holidays for Nimrod... and we all can wonder if we are still at war with the Babylonians! But anyhow Christmas is of course the winter festival of Saturnalia that the Romans practiced, a week to run free for the lords of misrule before being sacrificed and all the slaves returned to work. Lent is the same time as the traditional weeping and mourning for the Sumerian God Tammuz. Easter is Ishtar bursting forth from an egg.

Valentine's day is the festival of Lupercus, the Roman God of shepherds and Lupercus is nothing but another name for Pan and we can all imagine what Pan would like to be doing on the so called day of love. Halloween then is nothing but a day of the dead. In America we have thanksgiving, to thank the Indians? It is in fact a celebration dedicated to Ceres Cerelia, the Roman God of harvest.

“Now we wonder if Jesus existed, when was his birthday? I know some have favored the spring and summer but Ralph was very clever with this and looked at the position of the constellations around the time of his birth. Now we have some very interesting clues to work out what the constellations would have looked like. Now I actually quote this in my latest book, if I have a look here... ok now this is from Revelation 12:1, 2 & 5.

'And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars:

‘And she being with child cried, travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered.

‘And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads.

‘And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth: and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.

‘And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne.'

“Now in ancient times Scorpio and Libra were known as the dragon, there is a very small window of time here where all these things are present at the same time in the sky, I believe this includes the position of Leo as well... now Ralph believes this means Jesus Christ can only have been born on September 11th 3 BC.”

Harold: “Quite amazing.”

Brian: “It is intriguing, I must say I do love the language of Revelations, I believe there is much going on.”

Harold: “Quite so, it's interesting to think how Romanised our Christianity is, it was Constantine who changed the Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday... you can wonder sometimes if everything is sun worship.”

Edith: “I think there are many cruel games being played... and it shocks me, I mean I know it must be true but it does still shock me, how can it not Harold? If the ordinary person faces all these layers and tricks and indeed trauma... what chance do they stand when they don't even realise the state has already declared war upon their mind if not their soul? We can presume they already presume to own the body with the birth certificate.”

Brian: “Got to have your babies in the bush.”

Interviewer: “I think so! I think we need to ask, as Edith says, what do we do? Who do we turn to? Who are our heroes now? Are they radicals or gurus or celebrities and rock stars?”

Harold: “Oh goodness, it's not my job to depress people! I don't think anything is hopeless, I know Brian has talked about the music and film industry before and that is a whole topic in itself.”

Interviewer: “But what crops up in your research?"

Harold: “Well... a rather unoriginal story... we see young troubled people that are picked out for further trauma based mind control, possibly to split the personality, possibly create a drug dependency and or further exploit kinds of psychedelic hypnosis. If genuine spokesmen begin to emerge out of the culture and actually achieve a direct connection to people that the state can only be jealous of... we see John Lennon go almost mad in public, perhaps controlled or influenced. He may have woken up only to be further manipulated. We only know for sure he is assassinated. We see Kurt Cobain struggle with heroin addiction, was he hooked by an agent? In the hip hop culture we see Tupac, a child of black panthers growing in acclaim only to be…”

Interviewer: “You think so?”

Harold: “Yes, yes... you do see a repeating psychological profile of a troubled creative youth whose needs are manipulated, particularly with drugs.”

Interviewer: “Coke and..?”

Harold: “I think primarily opiates and psychedelics.”

Interviewer: “Really? We think of these things connected to the creativity... I am the Walrus... all that.”

Harold: “What liberates can as easily imprison... and in some ways we are all... by tuning into the propaganda... going to the movies, watching TV... listening to pop music... checking Facebook... voluntarily entering a psychedelic concentration camp of the mind. I know of American High Schools that have since, I believe at least the 70's if not the 80's, shown films such as The Godfather and Cool Hand Luke to their students. What could be better initiations into the corrupt culture of Babylon for our youth?”

Brian: “I know one friend of mine whose son was shown 2001 while in primary school.”

Edith: “Next it will be The Holy Mountain for the kindergarten.”

Harold: “Incredible, yes. Our pop culture is quite... saturated if not satiated by symbolism... the elites do not seem to care if the masses notice or care or if the symbols are but an oblique joke, but I do not think so, they are obsessed with Chronos, time. Popular music is a great trap, heavy metal is quite the angst catcher for youth. The means of escape is often means of a deeper trap, the deeper you push, the deeper they trap you like a Chinese finger puzzle.”

Brian: “Can I go back for a moment? I always think I am the Walrus is really a protest song against the dull banality of a stupid and corrupt state... and state of consciousness... he's angry 'cause he remembers what they said to him as a kid... that emotion feels real, even if everything around it is fake… they hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool…

Harold: “Yes it is a direct emotional traumatic training for the child to subjugate themselves to a certain... grey awfulness... as though the state would prefer us all... for our own safety they would rather place a raincoat over the rainbow.”

Brian: “If we could just drop everything... and walk past the system we would find ourselves in Eden... we have to remember... we have to struggle to realise the system is not reality, it's a system. Nature will provide all our needs in abundance if we are willing to leave behind a life of control... the people have to have the courage to come out... naked into the light... they could be free if they were not so afraid.”

Harold: “Or traumatized.”

Brian: “Yes... I want us to be optimistic, to be hopeful for the world our children and grandchildren will live in... and it means walking forward... let the labyrinth fall... watch it fall to the ground and just walk straight out into the only true reality.”

Edith: “You've come around to objective truth?”

Brian: “Had I lost it?”

Edith: “What would Robert say?”

Interviewer: “Robert Anton Wilson?”

Brian: “Yes, oh Robert... would tell us to watch out for the Jesuits and…”

Interviewer: “What would Robert think of there being a Jesuit pope?”

Brian: “I think he'd be quite amused, the end of the game perhaps? He always thought there was at least twenty simultaneous conspiracies going on in any major city, between the mafia, the Jesuits, the CIA, the FBI, the Rosicrucian’s, the Freemasons, the Shriners and whoever you can think of... it can be hard to pick between so much chaos being completely designed or if there are competing factions... though I can't imagine there ever being nuclear war between America, China and Russia... seems like it would wipe out a lot of profits... the other argument is depopulation.”

Interviewer: “And the Jesuits?”

Brian: “Yeah... I imagine Robert would say... they're clearly involved in the American intelligence agencies... I wonder about some of their recruits... I mean we saw the EU sign its constitution under the nose of the Pope in Rome... he's attempting to place the EU state under its dominion... the old Protestant states of Europe are sleep walking liberal day dreamers… and they are walking into a nightmare.”

Edith: “Blow the trumpet in Zion, sound the alarm on my holy hill.”

Harold: “Very good.”

Unknown Voice: “Are the Roman Catholics the ones running the banks and charging usury on you? Are they the ones overthrowing governments? Are they the core of the illuminati? No! Do they operate under a doctrine that basically says they can take rents on other people, who are no better than animals? No they do not. Who was Luther really mad at about for the indulgences? They do not have a doctrine for usurping humanity to the mystery religions. We can talk about the sins of the crusades but the worst acts of some splintering sects are not a worldwide conspiracy. It should also be remembered the Catholics were themselves subverted by certain forces during the inquisition. I think some balance must be brought to this discussion in noting if anyone is being duped it is those Protestants who become members of the Masonic temples and unwittingly do the work of the illuminati.”

Brian: “I wouldn’t necessarily disagree, there are many, many layers. But Robert always saw the Vatican as a key player in the shadow world... it's all guns, drugs and money going around in a circle from the mafia to the CIA to the Vatican... I don't like to speak for Robert... he was a funny man.”

Harold: “Was he a spook? I mean, he is dead now. He is your friend but... we need to be honest here.”

Edith: “This is being recorded though.”

Harold: “Oh yes I know.”

Brian: “I'm a skeptical person, Robert was a lot of things... operation mindfuck for sure... his ratio of truths to lies I don't know... he was good mental exercise... one idea Robert had was that the Vatican is the head of the whole deal, the city of London is the finance and Washington DC is the government and military… I believe Robert would say the Jesuits have no national loyalties, they and their Knights of Malta rejoice in the destruction of sovereign states. He would say they are in the thick of political intrigue since before the gunpowder plot. He would say their tentacles are thousands of years old, and rule number one is to always have a straw man, like the Jews, or Muslims, to do their dirty work or at least to provide cover.”

Harold: “And all spice shall flow to Zion.”

Interviewer: “But we're not going to blame... all... issues… he would believe that? You're saying it's all... down to the Jesuits? Or did you say Jews? I don’t understand, wouldn’t the Jesuits blame the Jews for all the world’s ills and wouldn’t the Jews blame the Jesuits? How does Islam fit into all this?”

Brian: “I wouldn't dream to paraphrase a parody of RAW reality.” (Laughter) All I know is there is a war for the heart of man and those who place themselves between God and man have always been at war to have that exclusive right. They’re all in on the game. As for Robert he would go down a particular reality tunnel to check it out… but wasn’t going to live there… he was open to anything being possible… so he attempted to live in a better version… delusion or genius… he was going to check everything out from every possible permutation, perversion I don't know, but every possibility of every reality to try out and consider what the best version might be worth moving to.”

Interviewer: “But of all these theories... some people argue the British Empire never ended and essentially controls America. People talk about Roman Catholicism being nothing more than the survival of the Roman Empire who are... Babylonians... and then the people talk about the Pharisees... how can I navigate this... without being considered racist or... understanding how can I…”

Unknown Voice: “You must talk about the Merovingians for anything to make sense.”

Interviewer: “I don’t think we want to totally derail…”

Unknown Voice: “The brotherhood were the builders of the pyramids for the Anunnaki, we know enough to see, it’s in front of our face… the human race is a slave race… creationism and evolutionary theory are both wrong… we’re slaves created out of the rape and genocide of the Neanderthal… the brotherhood were the builders of the temples… they want us to believe Christ has their bloodline… it’s sick… we have to talk about this… we must throw them all out.”

Brian: “You can lead a horse to water.”

Unknown Voice: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. John 16:33.”

Unknown Voice: “Why do they have a giant pine cone in the Vatican? Why is there a pine cone on the Pope’s staff? We need to talk direct liberation.”

Edith: “The light of the body is the eye, if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. Matthew 6.22.”

Harold: “These are fascinating quotes but there has always been a danger in using biblical quotes to justify everything under the sun, we all know how some will use the bible to argue for the restoration of the Temple Mount. People need to be extremely careful in understanding the true meaning encoded in these resonant words. It is beyond most...”

Interviewer: “Ok, we want to be open to all that is esoteric, there will be more time tomorrow with William I think… we can explore some of these things… Brian I want to understand how I can navigate… I mean how can I… talk about some ideas… as new facts come to light without being named… or targeted as…”

Brian: “Perhaps you cannot.”

Interviewer: “Robert Anton Wilson claimed to be in contact with this phantasm of a rabbit, I'm not sure if he was black or white, was Robert involved in channeling?”

Brian: “I don't know, I would say it is interesting this happened to Robert in the 70's when something similar happened to Philip K Dick, Dick believed he was being contacted by VALIS. Like Robert he had multiple theories about its meaning, its origin and what ultimately was happening in interaction with extraordinary phenomena which happened to provide access to extraordinary knowledge. Dick wrestled with VALIS being either the Russians, God, perhaps Abraxas or Sophia, I don't know, an alien... a truly alien God... or of course the CIA. Dick wrote many books inspired by his interaction with VALIS... now were these just being channeled or dropped into his subconscious mind by some agency?

“Robert had all kinds of theories for what the rabbit was, an alien or a ghost or a spirit or a part of his own mind, but one way he found to deal with it was to imagine it was this rabbit, a kind of magical creature we have in Ireland, the Pooka. A kind of mischievous creature with its own agenda... he perhaps was in contact with something I have explored... a reality that is beholden to the lord of chaos... a place you control by going as fast as possible in your integration of control into surrender and control into chaos... a special kind of high riding thrill of spontaneous composition, a jazz solo improvising reality around it... there are places I deemed I wished to touch, to know them and for them to know me.

“A risk that involves opening yourself to things which want to suck your soul. You must just miss being bitten to survive, a lot of it just sucks plain and real. There are many types of vampires in waiting, in this dominion of shadows, and we must endure and understand, educate ourselves, to know thyself. We must be careful of what we send our energy to, what we hate and what we love. We live in a psychic soup. Robert’s way of knowing himself was perhaps to unknow himself, I think he rather admired Crowley too much, but what do I know? I have sympathies for Francis Bacon. Robert wanted to break free from a maze he saw had been placed on humanities head, he wanted to open the door and escape... to see what reality looked like. Did he ever open the wrong door?

“Could some spook be interfering? What do they do? Interrupt the dream flow midstream and substitute the subconscious for a movie show? And show them... a dream about a great big rabbit... it talks to you... kind of like that old Jimmy Stewart movie... when you wake up you will write about it... you will move to Ireland and search it out... go find the giant black rabbit...

“Was that the deal? I don't know. Something was happening on the radio in the 70's... between Dick and Robert... did they tune into the wrong signal? Sometimes people are wired differently and notice... there is a face in the trees... and other people would say…”

Harold: “Apophenia.”

Brian: “Yeah... and other people would see reality talking to them, reflecting back the subconscious mind plugged into the prime creator... sleeping in the same water bed as the collective unconscious. And... something is winking at you in the forest... off the path... green floor, sky blue, river running white, black rabbit just out of sight.”

Edith: “The Pooka.”

Brian: “The black island rabbit, coyote spirit, talking rocks, magik eye, recurrence, chase the sun and moon for all time. Time is the only unit of measure that allows us to interact with matter… just consider… this river of time is a sculpture we are creating in conjunction with the creator.”

Harold: “Now really… let us not muddle theosophy and theology and the grand theory of everything… let us talk about what we know… for fact and most of these sort either believe nothing or are praying to Moloch or some such nonsense.”

Interviewer: “You think it's nonsense?”

Harold: “It's amateur dramatics... it's all very silly... but could there be some very strange relationship between dates, Gods, rituals... it is the most extreme magical thinking possible for human civilization but much is strange... and is there a resonance... like they believe they are sending energy to something and that something is responding to them... in the creation of reality, their... warped reality... do they themselves believe they are in contact with something through bizarre murderous rituals? It's possible of course and it's quite possible these people are quite insane.”

Brian: “They’re definitely insane, the problem with trying to oppose them politically is that the left or right don’t matter anymore, it doesn’t matter, capitalist or communist, socialist or fascist… it is the 99% versus the 1%, we can talk about who the New World Order really are but it is ultimately about a takeover by the ultra rich and the first step to challenging them is to understand they’re in our heads, they have tried to create a reality for us like a layer of… nonsense placed over natural reality… they themselves may believe they are in contact with something magical or supernatural but…”

Edith: “I do believe some of them do believe.”

Interviewer: “Yeah?”

Edith: “You can see why it is important to accept the definite into your mind, it is like a tight glass.”

Brian: “To see the ultimate reality is the work of…”

Harold: “A magician fools himself.”

Edith: “The fools leaps without looking.”

Brian: “An ascended master... shedding the last mask in the fire.”

Harold: “Is the phoenix essentially Lucifer?”

Edith: “The rising star? It is possible, there are so many reptilian references in all the world’s cultures.”

Brian: “You think so?”

Edith: “To be an ascended master? I believe St Germain is a name for such a being, I believe Francis Bacon also…”

Harold: “Wouldn't they be amused! There's a great trick for you, conning you through... 500 years! How could these... agents of their day... be thought of as ascended masters?”

Brian: “Shakespeare... the Bible…”

Harold: “People still do not know how to read these documents both symbolically, intellectually and spiritually... when you see the state of our education system... we are producing nothing but sensation driven automatons... that have to be given pep pills... before being given tranquilizers... and antidepressants... and now they already have self service McDonald's... what will all these useless people do... where will they work if not in McDonald's… who are their customers supposed to be? It’s robots working for robots as humans begin to imitate robots. These people fully believe in every practical way possible the system is reality... and you are a madman to them to suggest otherwise.”

Edith: “I have been accused of being a romantic... but I believe Harold... you do not doubt the existence of an historical figure known as Jesus Christ.”

Harold: “There was undoubtedly a historical Jesus.”

Edith: “Then it is possible for a man to ascend... from the Babylonian illusion surrounding us?”

Harold: “I suppose St Germain was Jesus' cousin... and Francis Bacon his nephew?”

Edith: “Well…”

Harold: “Oh I know.”

Brian: “We're all looking for ways to... either fight... or escape... fight or flight is the basic program.”

Harold: “Yes indeed, we must look for what belongs to us, history most importantly but right now... the conscious space of our interaction with each other... we must be aware of illusion... how of our thoughts are truly our own... how many have been manufactured by the television... by films... how many of our opinions? Our deepest dreams and fantasies? How much is our brain putty in the hands of the most sophisticated technology dedicated to influencing the subconscious mind... how much? Very much more than any man or woman would realise... or even dare admit to themselves. To admit to their egos. The thing most dear to the world of theworker enslaved to time.”

Brian: “We must create our own reality. I've been amazed to discover a lot of Neolithic sites in Ireland, it's something I've been exploring recently. I realise there is a deep sleeping energy, I feel that Celtic Connection strongly now. I feel Europeans are almost being forced to look to their most ancient... mythos of themselves… now Game of Thrones is the TV version of this for the office worker drones… and of course now the beard is the socially acceptable display of masculinity for the emasculated metrosexual… vaguely remembering in the dimmest corner of the cave of their mind a time when they wrestled bears to survive.

“Now what Harold was saying... disturbing violent imagery straight into the subconscious mind while some information is slipped in... and I do not believe when the subconscious mind experiences immediate... instant violent traumatic imagery it cannot immediately differentiate it as fake... the effect has already been done... perhaps people come to feel the little thrill... of fake violence in games and movies... as just that... a little plastic thrill for the dopamine... and serotonin receptors... it's quite sick… yes our most ancient identities will only become stronger as we discover how fake our reality is. We want something uncorrupted and ideal and that can only be found in the most ancient past… it cannot be denied… Ireland is still colonised in the head… and colonised by the Pope… a Roman banana Republic… but the spirit will be heard again… it cannot be denied… the stag that was sleeping is stirring."

Harold: “Oh I believe they are the most nefarious with this technology, they are biological and neurological experts... and that is undoubtedly part of the video game industry now.”

Interviewer: “No more Xbox or Playstation! Now... we're on a path... what do we do?”

Brian: “Keep walking and don't carry what you don't need... in all aspects. We’ve been sold the left hand path of do what thou wilt is… the whole of the universe… maybe there is an irony in the old tradition of the mystery schools only finding enlightenment possible in a group… some seek the nine and others the three… if we are collectively asleep perhaps we can only awaken collectively? My path is not your path… in everything we do, everything we have talked about we must always realise the potential to encounter the trickster… it can be hiding in anything… maybe there is a spirit that makes us imagine we are enlightened on LSD or loved on MDMA or in contact with the master builders on DMT… and maybe they are all mousetraps… we can only... we must only understand with our own knowing, the inner gnosis… that cannot lie… I don’t want anyone to doubt that slugs will attach them self to your psyche with every negative thought, your astral body will be milked… demons will try to turn you schizophrenic… as Edith said… we can discern… we are immensely powerful.”

Edith: “We will prevail.”

Brian: “We haven’t all travelled here to confirm our suspicions that we are trapped forever, we must share how far… we have got down the path… and encourage each other to go all the way.”

Interviewer: “I think we have done that, tell us what you’re up to next?”

Brian: “Well, I'll see if anybody wants to read my book... and I'll probably do some work in Ireland… there is still much to discover and then... who knows? Maybe Tibet!”

Edith: “I hope to read it, and I am most interested to read Harold's latest work.”

Harold: “And yours.”

Interviewer: “I think what we're going to do now is... ok we're going to do some questions.”

The tape clicked off to the hum of the fridge filling the room. I wondered if Brian had ever stopped smoking as I fell into a heavy sleep with the voices of the past swimming into my unconscious mind.