WOA: A Sailor’s Sunset (A Short)

The sound of his board slicing through the water in harmony with the sound of the wind in his sails and the feel of the boom in his hands. The currents of the ocean below, and in the wind above flowing as one with the currents in him. All powered by Phateon of the heavens above. A singular force of oneness, it seemed, propelled him forward.

The crystalline clear blue waters of the shallow sea grass and white sands below his sea-skipping board receded into the unfathomable azure of the ocean deep. Thenea ever falling below the horizon behind him.

“If I could choose my final sunset…” he thought. “… these could very well be my final hours on E’ricle.”

Tomorrow he would ascend into the heavens to take his first command of a Stellar Patrol Boat in the Space Fleet. And he sped forward as if to outrun the many voices in his head.

“Have my experiences in the surface fleet prepared me for what is to come?”

“Am I prepared to take command?”

“Were we really at war with Ced’-a-meon?“

“How could we ever think to defeating them, on their home world?”

“Are we not leaving E’ricle unprotected with so much of the fleet deployed?“

“Patrol Boats have never been deployed this deep before, what would be our ultimate assignment?”

“Could they reach us here?

“Could we lose this war?”

“Will I ever see home again?”

To calm the voices, he sped with the speed of the wind to the calmest place he knew, deep out in the ocean of his quiet mind.

With Thenea no longer in sight nor even sign of her lights and as Phateon slipped into the ocean, he slowed the boat to a still. While perfectly balanced, he sat crosslegged on his board and so drifted. Calmed.

Long into that dark night he sat. Any other would be panicked to be so far out to sea alone and without means of navigation in hand. But he knew exactly where he was. The heavens told him.

As the waxing crescent of the First Sister, called Carnas by her inhabitants, rose he wondered if he would ever see her full again.

The voices asleep, he picked up his sails and dipped them into the wind. He felt the wind fill the sails and he channeled that energy flow from his steady hands, into his arms, into his body, his legs and finally into the board as he skated over a black ocean leaving a phosphorescent wake behind.

Looking back he wondered, if he had known then what he knew now, would he have sailed back to shore that night. Or instead would he have followed his heart and sailed deeper into the blue.

As the powerless hulk of his patrol craft drifted so far from home and with no hope of rescue he knew without doubt he would never again see his beloved sapphire ocean.

He suppressed those many voices and their existential questions..

As the dead ship spun without control in the black of space he was saddened at being closer to Ced’-a-meon then to home.

Entombed in the ruins of his first command
destined for eons hence to orbit great Phateon out between the worlds, he came to peace with the thought that from here the sun would never set.

#WAR OF ASCENSION

Tales of the Crossroads: Fearlessness and tranquillity

A review of God’s V’s concert from planet Moriah. By GBb music corespondent, So Kirk.

There comes a moment in a person’s life when immediacy requires a higher form, when it wants to lay hold of itself as spirit. Last night was such a moment.

Having difficulties of admission regarding my press credentials, I was a tad late to the show. Unlike the long awaiting fans who were treated to a gradual turning up of the metaphoric lights, arriving with the show already underway, I was thrown straight from darkness into light. A light that assailed all the senses.

Sonic wave after sonic wave washed over me. echoes of the fundamental forces of creation. I understood now why they held the top three spots of the Galactic Billboard. (GBb).

Biggest (as well as tallest) fan

Bound by duty to cover the night’s event but transfigured by self in self, with personality wanting only to stay conscious of the eternal validity in the moment.

But that moment was halted, repressed in the depression of fear and loathing that pervaded the outside world. Duty bound I began recording and photographing the event in the vain hope of capturing the real magic of the moment, the magic of being there.

While documenting the night’s events I came to a conclusion, “I just want to enjoy the music. So… Fuck this. I quit.”

Along with this story I am also submitting a brief audio clip and a few images. Consider this my resignation, as I only plan on following the band and tour.

Next stop, Florida!

GBb Editor: We at the GBb are saddened by So Kirk’s recent resignation. We hope to hire a music corespondent replacement soon. Meanwhile, we are pleased to announce the recent hire of So Kirk, he joins the GBb as our newly created position of dedicated correspondent to God’s V for the GBb.

#TALES OF THE CROSSROADS

A forgotten name

A lone hiker treks, far from civilization, deep into the wilderness. Relying solely on his compass, map and skills he explores a vast mountainous wilderness. All he needs he carries on his back. Day follows night. Night follows day. Camp, trek. Trek, camp. 

Nearly a week in, the lone hiker stops to set camp as the sun sets low.  Taking out tools, he sets about building a small shelter and a fire. All but settled for the night., he breaks out his mess kit and begins opening a can of beans. Looking around enjoying the view he empties his can into his skillet. His face turns aghast as he looks into the skillet to see what is unmistakably the spherical round of an eye. The eye looking askew turns to stare at him. 

He drops and kicks away the skillet gasping “What the fuck”. 

Stepping back, never taking his eyes off the upturned skillet gasping heavily as he backs into a tree. Slowly he slides his back down the tree until he is squatting. He stays that way eyes glued to the skillet for what feels like hours until he notices the sun has set. 

Slowly getting up and picking up a stick he makes his way toward the skillet and beans. By the light of the fire and using a stick he slowly flips the skillet over. No sign of the grotesque orb, he probes the beans spreading them around looking for the horror. 

He finds naught but spoiled beans. 

His appetite gone he settles in for the night turning his knapsack so as he can keep his eyes on the skillet and tainted beans. He fights the urge to sleep fixated on the spot as the fire dies down. Try as he might to stay awake, eventually he falls asleep. 

Startled awake and quickly remembering where he was his eyes scan and find the skillet, it still lies how he left it. 

Feeling as if he had a full night’s sleep he is puzzled to realize it is still night with no sign of dawn. Fumbling with his watch he is troubled that it will not illuminate. Reaching for a small flashlight he shines it on his watch to see that it is blank, as if the battery were dead. He frantically takes it off and begins fumbling with the buttons in vain, he slams it on the ground. 

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“This is too weird. I don’t like this.” he utters aloud in the quite darkness, startled by his own voice.

On the verge of hyperventilating, “Calm down man. Breathe. Breathe.” 

Focused on breathing and rationalizing with the situation, he ponders what to do. 

Shining the light around only seeing endless trees “Ok there is something here I can feel it.” Nodding his head he realizes it’s time to pack and hike his ass out of this heart of darkness. 

Reaching for his map and compass to plot his exit he is startled to find his compass needle jumps from point to point irrationally. He chuckles hopelessly, fearfully. 

Throwing the compass and map aside he scans the woods again with his flashlight looking to find the path he followed into this hell. 

His light illuminates the impossible. He drops the light and stumbles backward gasping for air. His flashlight having revealed a figure of inhuman stature, with wings black and leathery, feet of a raptor, head of ram. Visible for merely a second lost when the flashlight hit the ground and rendered inoperable. 

Staring into the pith black, seeing nothing. 

“You are trespassing.”

Turning toward the voice he sees what appears to be and older gentleman. Aided by a walking stick he has the look of one who has long lived alone in the wilderness. 

“Shit.  Man, you scared the fuck out of me.” Collecting his wits and feeling relieved at no longer being alone.  “I think I might be lost, if I’m trespassing on your property l’m sorry. Just point me the way out of here and I’ll be on my way. “

No reply

“This place is haunted, man. that or I am going fucking crazy from exhaustion. “

The old man says nothing. 

While gathering his things,“I mean, you ever notice crazy shit around here?” 

After a brief pause. 

“Lost? I hear that often. ever shall it be while Uriel guards the way. By which way did you come?”

“Yeah, you see I don’t even know. That’s what I mean by haunted. My compass wont point to north, it spins all crazy like. Oh and I didn’t see any guards. I would have heeded that, believe me. “

The old man walks toward the campfire it grows intense and then flickers almost out he sits on an old log. 

“It seems I blow your flickering life span out.”

“The campfire? I don’t need it. Just point me the way out, man, and I’ll be out of here.”

“Sit.” the one without a name commanded. “By which way did you come.”

Feeling compelled to sit the hiker sits. 

“I started out from the trailhead that starts near the Devil’s Bridge about six or seven days ago. I thought I was following the Bighorn Trail when I ended up here. I can’t even tell you which way I came here by.” he says as he looks around.

“Trees behind trees, how swiftly they change places.” A shivers runs down the hikers spine as the old man speaks.

 The hiker scans out into trees and into the darkness, realizing he does not recognize the scenery from an hour ago let alone from his arrival.   

“How wretched the moons perfect disk let’s use instead the wil-o-the-wisp.”

As he speaks an eerie glow permeates the woods. “Mammon never spares the light.”

Noticeably nervous, “I dont even care to pack. Anything here you want to can have.” And then quickly adding “Unless you want it gone, I didn’t mean to imply I was going to litter on your property.”

“Fashioned little worlds within the bigger one Judgment Day must soon draw nigh for the world is in certain decline, Faustus. 

Standing up shocked on hearing his middle name an icy dagger pierces his heart. “Do I know you?”  

“If my ears still behave you speak of groove or is it grave “

A flood of distant memories from past existences inundate his mind. Threads intertwined  into a web at the center a most dreadful pact. A distant name recalled from time forgotten, “Gretchen.”

Swift as an arrow, the stranger was before him, face to face. The dagger in his heart radiates out into all appendages and looking down he sees that the old man’s hand having pierced his flesh disappeared into his very torso. The harbinger of death pulls back his hand to reveal a beating heart.   

“Lacking faith one believes only what one sees. Measures illusion with illusion.  Less worth than slaughtered sacrificial sheep.  You reckon by Earthly rotations I by celestial.  What worth is eternal creation when all is subject to annihilation.”

With his engine of life removed from its chassis, he slumps to his knees. I light descends from the heavens. As he passes from the world he remembers the bargain struck and the price paid.

“Gretchen.”

Tales of the Crossroads: Introducing the Band

Her Majesty the Cosmosship (HMC) Shannon sped through interstellar space utilizing her favorite mode of space travel, surfing gravitational waves. Her favorite waves to surf in the cosmic ocean were those from the echos of the last “big bang.” Riding the crests and troughs of those waves gave her a sense of connection to all beginnings and ends.

Her destination was a G-type main-sequence star, a yellow dwarf, in the Zeta 20 sector of the Pinwheel Galaxy. Weak radio waves from that system began arriving in Gamma sector, where Shannon was surfing nova waves for fun, about 0.00000031 zep cycles ago.

Of the many images received from those signals she was fascinated by ocean-going schooners. And so, because she could, she took the form of a schooner as she sped through space at the speed of light.

On board were Captain Mor Ty, Science Officer K, Communications Officer E.N.T., and Ambassador Cosmic C (though technically C was not onboard at the moment) . You would probably know them better as God’s V, the band behind 4 of the last 5 top hits on the Galactic Billboard.

Aside from being a sentient, shape shifting, multi-dimensional ship, Shannon also happened to be the universes’ most advanced quantum computer. In actuality she was neither a cosmic ship or super-quantum computer. Being self realized, those were the most approximate abstractions of true conceptual self and so for the benefit of other beings, she went with it. In fact, she didn’t even need a crew but she liked having one onboard as she loved seeing sentient beings explore and learn.

And as they really didn’t have duties, the crew/band spent most of their time in pursuit of knowledge or recreation (often those being one and the same).

At this particular moment Cosmic C was fishing for starfish from a kayak tethered to the stern and enveloped in Shannon’s Quanta Field. This field essentially isolated all enveloped from any QED interactions of the external universe.

The fishing line passed through a Plank Hole (actually countless P Holes but as we don’t have time to explain all the details of the science, we can move on). K was in the Observation Deck, deeply engaged in research of the dominant species of the system’s third planet. The closer they got the more current the data at her disposal. Sleeping near her feet, as usual, was Tomatillo.

E.N.T. was on the Rec Deck playing congas, a keyboard and a guitar all at the same time. He was eager to use indigenous instruments from the planet for their next song. Mor Ty was on the “Bridge” which was the name he gave to his own private quarters. Of late, he spent a lot of time there, ever since he had asked Shannon to build him a machine he code named the “Hand Job”. He got the idea for the machine watching a transmission from Earth a few light weeks away from their destination.

“Cosmic C.”

“Yes, Shannon.”

“We are approaching solar winds and we will be switching to propulsion soon.”

“Ok. Reel me in.”

Onboard, C headed to the O Deck. Walking past the “Bridge” he could hear Mor Ty’s muffled voice “.. to quit my post only when properly relieved…” This was a clear indication that Mor Ty was not only on the “Hand Job” but that he would also be done soon.

C wasn’t long on the O Deck, where he greeted K, when he was joined by E.N.T. and shortly thereafter Mor Ty.

In orbit around Earth, Shannon took her more familiar form, a perfect sphere. She was spinning at nearly the speed of light which generated a gravity field onboard. This spin also had the effect of giving Shannon the appearance of a flying saucer to any outside observer (as long as her Quanta Field was off, which at this time it was not.)

The O Deck ran center line of the sphere and provided a 360-degree projection of space.

“I have placed us in orbit and currently have access to all digital data and transmissions of the planet at your disposal.”

“It is so much prettier in person.” K said. All nodded in agreement.

“What can you tell us, Shannon?” asked C.

“As you know, the dominant species is bipedal, mostly. They like to sit a lot. Ironically, they consider themselves to be post-industrial even though industry is one of their primary existential threats as a species. The vast majority barely understand basic chemistry and are ignorantly naive in understanding the role of carbon in their own biosphere.”

“Hmmmm…”

“What is it, C?” asked E.N.T.

“I am in telepathic communication with Gaia. She likes to go by Gaia. Seems she is doing her best to preserve the species but she is in great pain and mourns for the other species. She is not sure how much longer she can hold back the carbon pendulum.”

“I’ve been studying them for awhile now. They have such potential, but for every step forward they take two back.” said K.

“Only a small percentage of the population engages in intellectual pursuit and even then some can only do so part-time. The vast majority still engage in material pursuits either out of necessity, given the societal emphasis on currency, or greed and a delusional view of self worth. The later view seems to account for 99.999% of the world’s politicians, dropping to 99.99% when considering the quote unquote “upper class. And before you ask, K, please remember the ramifications and responsibility of intervening.”

“Hmph”

“Current, technology is silicon based. There is some interesting theoretical math going on but they still have two math models of the universe and can’t seem to unify them. I have found their problem. Look here.”

“That’s funny” said E.N.T.

“How come they are still stuck on that?” asked K. “Are they not curious? Is anyone working on this?”

“A small percentage. Looking over the planets digital data vast amounts of it are compromised of two global fixations, both take blob-data form. You are looking at one now.”

“Hey, that looks like Tomatillo!” Said Mor Ty.

“They are called cats and I can understand this fixation.” replied K.

“The other blob-data, currently being projected is called…”

“Porn!” yelled Mor Ty.

“Yes, porn.”

“I can understand this fixation. Are you recording this?”

“You know I archive all incoming data, Mor Ty.”

“Just checking. Can you time stamp screen 323 for sure also 419, 420, 421, 425, 536…”

Ten minutes into his listing “… and 974.”

“Is that all, Mor Ty?”

“We are going down, right?”

“We are.” replied C.

“Ok. That should do for now.”

To be continued.

#TALES OF THE CROSSROADS

WOA: H.H. Dysseaus at Cessation of Hostilities, his de facto coronation, revelation of the Babado and Phateon Constitutional Law

Transcripts of archival audio

“In readdress to your charges, I direct these words not just to you, or even all of you gathered here today but to all citizens of the Phateon System.

None here can cite a campaign directed by me in which I and I did not fight. My “peers” being none aware of the true dangers undertook and the true cost paid. Success of my private exploits meant the realization of all we set out to do.

Cowardice, heresy, sedition, inciter of rebellion you charge? You would conquer and rule Phateos Proper and any and all means to that end you would justify. Where you failed we succeeded.

We unify all under Phateos in name and spirit not for my home world of Ced’-a-meon nor for E’ricle or any one of the inhabited worlds but for all. While everyone else repays us with thanks and praise you would revert to subterfuge hidden behind empty speeches.

It is not your stupidity we find fault with but your blindness. You fail to see that even you are saved by my “crimes.” You would destroy worlds for cause. You value self over the many. Your insolence is now and hence force your own problem alone. You would lecture on honor and hurl baseless charges as if they were stone.

Hear now the words of Dysseus, Shatriya of the Nobel race Ced’-a-meon, born of ice, fire, iron and storm son of Agrius from the house of Andavas and hence with genealogy of the Edtas.

Whatever form of combat my enemy chooses I am always ready to meet, whether against one or many as today. You here suffer from ambition and ignorance, two ills that work at cross purposes.

Ambition makes you eager for honors but ignorance turns you against them. When strong with power you felt “brave” now weak you find that you are neither brave nor wise. There is nothing worse than suffering in a state of ignorance.

If ever there arises a poet who really understands what counts for excellence in a noble he will take note of my compassion, composure and resourcefulness.

Ignorance and ambition birth arrogance and as you are possessed by all three demons I shall reveal now your complete and utter defeat for even now you will not let go.

I know every detail of your plans to assassinate me with cessation of hostilities [murmur of crowd]. I know that you, Strategeos Prime, Admiral Atherean and your fellow conspirators, plan to carve the planets into a hegemonic duality.

You would seek only to buy a little time and when able you would strike down the other for total hegemony.

Atherean, you are a good strategist. You realize your time to strike is now and so you bribed Secundus to assassinate Prime in exchange for riches and power [murmur of crowd].

What you do not know is that Secundus has ever been my most loyal friend and my most brilliant general. Your own blood money is the same we used to arm many of those whom now occupy Thenea as well as those who listen to these words from atop the ruins that were once your seaside palace.

We are legion. You would give us death we would meet you in death and there work to ease your fears of the final crossing. We are your sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, friends, brothers and sisters.

We are the Babado., followers of that Great Book. Wise ones, make yourselves known [murmur of crowd]. Even now you question how you lost so much.

Hear now my first judgment as Guardian of All under Phateos. You still mistake intelligence for wisdom.

Secundus shall now proclaim before all Phateon Law, The Proclamation of Equivalent Exchange.”

#WAR OF ASCENSION

Tales of the Crossroads: Joyful Buddy Buddha

Excerpts from: The Adventures of the Cosmiccomics

The Last Breakfast

One day we (that is the Cosmiccomics ( that is Buddy and I)), not feeling very adventurous, decided to grab a bite from the Cafe at the end of the Universe.

While there we met up with a few old friends. Some of them were there for lack of anything better to do, some were there to catch the ultimate punchline to the longest running joke ever and others (like ourselves) were simply hungry. I was hoping we would catch up with the Space Dandy but we were told he was at a Boobies, the one over by the Tannhäuser Gates. Buddy and I agreed the next time the Universe ended we would go there instead.

At our table, I ordered some pancakes and a cafe mocha, the last in the universe.

“A towel, I need a good towel”

I looked up to see that Buddy had picked up and was reading a copy of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy“ and the look on his face was one of total epiphany.

“You need to read this.” as he passed me the book, his finger pointing to the entry on ‘Towels.’

Ever since, I have carried a towel wherever I go,

On acquiring the magic compass

We acquired the Jerusalem Compass, which always points toward the center of the Universe, from the great mage Alan Moore. Being bound by an oath of secrecy that is all that can be said of that. See “Jerusalem

Dungeons, no Dragon

The Cosmiccomics (that is we (that is Buddy and I and another) found an abandoned Hobbit hole and so we decided to move in.

While partaking in some pipe weed with a few friends I invited them all on an adventure of Middle Earth, I was familiar with Middle Earth (having explored it regularly since I was a child) and offered to serve as a guide. They agreed.

With heed we did speed fo the isle of Tolfalas In the Bay of Befalas in the south of Gondor, a favorite spot of mine, which at the time remained largely unexplored. As there were no more dragons in the world, with the recent demise of Smaug, we hoped to explore a few dungeons.

What follows are a few highlights of our adventures there, for a full accounting of these tales please see: Unnamed Composition Notes; Unnamed Composition Graphs; Five Star Blue Notebook; Box of Character Sheets; Atlas to Middle Earth by Fonstad; The Similrillion, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien; Clip of notecards; Oral Histories.

We arrived in Middle Earth during the fall of 2944 in the Third Age (1344 by Shire Reckoning), waking up on “Survival Beach” of Tolfalas. The Grey Beard greeted the party there and had all pledge “By the Flames Imperishable and the grace of the Valar go I.”

The party was later hosted and mentored, for a period of time, by the mysterious Castamir on his homestead south of the town Dôr-ëar.

The first few month’s most memorable events include: the slaying of a few boar; encounters with thieves; acquiring of combat and survival skills; fending off of wolves in the Cervine Glade; the felling of many rabbits for stew and such; the meetings of Orin the Ranger, Ghari the innkeeper (and our pipe weed source); Kiath a captain of Gondor, Re’ad the blacksmith; Wehell (an early settler in those parts) and a friendly bull-mastiff. Side note: we at one time thought the mastiff had tragically perished in an arson’s fire and we were relieved to learn otherwise.

Things got interesting upon learning about and exploring an ancient series of catacombs near the Cervine Glade. It was there deep in the Chamber of Ages that Mor’ke’men the Dark Numenorean was encountered. Seemingly having defeated the evil wright, a gold plated book was discovered that crumbled into dust when touched, ushering the dawn of an endless night of the undead. The vision of the walking dead passed (Though the vision would later prove prophetic, at least in part).

Only ash and the front and back gold-plates remained of the book. Each gold cover portrayed a different image, the front was of an angelic-like lady extending as if to gift a fruit and the back cover was of a lone eagle atop a mountain peak with an unknown mountain range in the background.

Passing through the vision and out of the Catacombs, Raster the bandit was met (but as it would turn out he wasn’t a bandit but actually an assassin of the secret Jinan Syndicate, a mostly unknown opportunistic information network with an “ends justifies the means” creed.) Seems Raster only wanted to lay eyes on the artifacts, as he made minimal effort in relieving the party of its find .

The party arrived back at Castamir’s more or less at about the same time as his past. It was learned that, Castamir was actually Malomar, one of if not the most feared captains of the Umbar Corsairs. Captain Malomar was ordered to raid and slaughter a costal village in an attempt to incite a war. He refused the order and his second, Taseb, attempted to bring him to trial to face the death penalty. Castamir fled and hid his identity. Unfortunately Castamir’s identity was discovered by a recon-party of Corsairs, gathering information on Gondor’s presence in Tolfalas. As it happened this band of pirates was under the command of Taseb. Castamir was waylaid by a squad of corsairs and brought before Taseb, who looked to improve his reputation by adding Slayer of the Dread Pirate Malomar to his moniker,

Taseb arranged for an unfair fight to the death but even a handicapped Malomar/Castamir would prove a match and so they both met their doom at the ruins on the cliff.

The ruins were of an ancient light house that ages past guided white sailed ships offshore (as revealed in a vision which was seen upon discovering a set of plaques that matched the gold covers of the book.) Entering the ruins, a deep underground dungeon was discovered which eventually descended into a massive tomb of a prison. The tomb was made to imprison Mor’ke’men’s lord, the ultimate lock being the book from the catacombs.

During one of Mor’ke’men’s taunting monologues, it was learned he had stolen the book to free his imprisoned lord, at the cost of being cursed as undead forever more. Bringing the book back turned out to be a bad idea as it broke the spell imprisoning him in the catacombs. Mo’ke’men now unleashed, the ground opened up and the party fell as if into the center of the world. Landing softly in a room in which sat a golden book on a pedestal and a set of magical doors, each emanating the life force of the individual explorers plus one that flickered images of strange and fascinating foreign landscapes…


From: The Eagles of the Lords of the West and Yavanna’s gift, A history of the Rings of Beren and Lúthien

… of Tolfalas in the Bay of Belfalas … with the Breaking of Thangorodrim and the felling of the Blue Mountains and the flooding of Beleriand during the War of Warth… Hîrroval (Lord of Wings) son of Landroval, descendant of Thorondor, during the Second Age settled in the Impregnable Mountains as the Southern Eyes of Numenor…

Guru Rick gets his rocks off

On the road to Jerusalem we were discussing Turvsky’s new book “Crime of the Fathers and Punishment of the Suns” when we were approached by an heavenly celestial being.

“Sorry to interrupt” she said “But I like your towel.” Referring to my blue Turkish towel.

“Thanks” I said.

“Ok, see you about” said she.

“Ok bye” said Buddy and I as she vanished.

“Dang.”

“What’s that, Buddy?”

“I forgot to ask who her God was.”

Since we never could predict when we would next randomly cross path’s with a Celestial we decided to seek one out.

We abandoned the road to Jerusalem and so headed for Colorado. Long we searched the caves and crevices of the Rockies until at long last we found the ‘Cave of the Most Rick.’ Paying homage we approached Guru Rick and he granted us a single boon. I nodded to Buddy, he nodded back and then he asked Rick “Who is your God?”

With that all perceptions melted away and where once was Rick there now was Śivah with Shakti as one, in Mahamudra.

The vision exploded into pure light and just like that he was Rick again in missionary with a strange alien being.

Backing out of the cave we gave reverence and prostrations and thanked Guru Rick the whole while he berated us with countless profanities going on about wanting a little privacy.

From: The Lone Adventures of Buddy

Much can be said about the rise and fall of the Safari King, the world conquering avatar of Buddy, and his many adventures including his ironic addiction to joy. The Safari King atop his noble steed, The Brutal Moose, carved out a massive empire and ruled from horizon to horizon.

After many a battle and conquest and during his reign that followed the Safari King made more than a few bitter enemies. Enemies that want nothing more than to see the Safari King’s head on a platter (or a spike, or the floor, anywhere other than atop his neck.)

That said and as Buddy is still rather attached to his head, for a full accounting of these tales one should refer to the Oral Histories of the Safari King.

Namo

We, the Cosmiccomics, take refuge in the tri-sarana at Mahabodhi where we pay homage to the many Gurus we have learned from. The following are just a few of many:

Namo Guru: JRR Tolkien; Shinichirō Watanabe; Dan Harmon; Douglas Adams;; Alan Moore; Justin Roiland; Pendleton Ward; ; Duncan Trussell; Ivan Turgenev; Fyodor Dostoevsky; Brutalmoose (aka Ian Macleod.)

#TALES OF THE CROSSROADS

When the bough breaks

INT: Underground military command bunker. Soldiers in futuristic combat garb and weapons.  

Camera pans across the room and slowly zooms in on GARDNER. He has a slightly puzzled look on his face as his eyes scan the room searching for familiarity.

CURAN storms in, spots and heads straight to GARDNER

CURAN: Fucking Zenos, Gardner!

GARDENER (slowly): What?

GARDNER has regained focus it reads on his face now

CURAN: It’s not natives, Gard. Zenos. We are under attack by fucking Zenos.

CURAN and GARDNER both turn to look at the only OFFICER in the room. The OFFICER visibly perplexed as he looks over battle plans and maps spread out over a table. He is mouthing something to himself.

GARDNER: What the fuck, sir?

OFFICER: We…We were sent to recon’. Zenos weren’t expected in this sector for another two lunars. Supplies are in route. Templars are in route … 

He looks up from the table at GARDNER

OFFICER: But were not prepared to fight Zenos. 

GARDNER: No shit. Not a one of us will live to see another day and that’s if were lucky.

GARDNER hand signals something to CURAN. CURAN nods his head in approval, he taps the two closest soldiers.

CURAN: You’re with me.

CURAN and two soldiers leave the bunker.

GARDNER (to the OFFICER): The best we can hope for, sir, is that we hold out long enough to destroy any intel we have in this bunker that includes what’s in our own…

As GARNDER speaks the OFFICER without hesitation draws his service pistol puts the barrel in his mouth and pulls the trigger. As the echo of the report dies down a noticeable silence engulfs the room with the exception of the distant boom of random explosions.

GARDNER (addressing the room): That puts me in charge. I need two volunteers to stay behind here to set scuttle charges.

Everyone in the room raises their hands.

As he speaks GARDNER begins tapping into a keypad and terminal embedded into his forearm. A countdown commences on the terminal.  

GARDNER: Nik, Carl. 

Hearing their names is all the command NIK and CARL need. They set to work.

GARDNER: The rest of you are with me. We will form the last defense and buy our boys here the five minutes they’ll need. I don’t have to remind anyone here that the last thing you want is to be taken alive. Bourtange formation. You know what to do.    

The room clears

EXT: Outside Underground command bunker. Combat is already underway. Screams pierce the inky blackness. GARDNER is kneeling in sling support position. He is firing discriminately. Each shot finds its mark. After several shots GARDNER looks at his forearm. The terminal reads 2:14 and counting down. Just then a loud explosion occurs behind him the scene goes black and silent.

Black screen. 

A distant ringing grows noticeably louder. The scene flickers from black to GARDNER as hey lays on the ground. GARDNER lifts his arm to read out the terminal. He stares instead at a mangled arm the keyboard and terminal are gone. He reaches without hesitation for his service pistol as he does so someone stands on his arm he turns to see a Zeno standing over him. The Zeno aims what looks like a weapon at GARDNER.  

GARDNER screams in pain   

CUT TO

INT: Modern day bedroom. In an instant a heavier softer looking GARDNER jolts up in bed he is noticeably sweaty he looks around the room and slowly sighs with familiarity. He rubs his forearm reassuringly. 

CLARA (from the bathroom): Have another bad dream, dear?

Gardner lives a normal life with his wife CLARA. He has an office job a handful of friends. He loves his life, it is the life he has always envisioned for himself. All is perfect except, every night since he can remember he has had eerily similar dreams where he’s a soldier battling an unrelenting alien foe on a foreign planet. He doesn’t always remember the details of his dreams when he wakes but the reoccurring dream of an explosion that concusses him and severs his arm always feels the most real. Whenever he speaks of his dreams to anyone he is at best dismissed often teased. 

Besides the dreams Gardner is plagued by phantom pains most prominently his right forearm as well as stabbing pain in his abdomen. He’s had these checked but Doctors tell him he is fine and that what he feels is in his head. He’s tried psychiatric help as well as medicine to escape his dreams to escape his phantom pains, nothing’s worked. Instead the pain grows steadily worse, the dreams ever more realistic. He starts to question who he is. Aspects of his life start to feel odd, he doesn’t remember much of his childhood but what he does remember seems from a different time and prelude to a much harder life. 

As the pain and dreams grow worse he feels like he is going steadily insane. He develops insomnia and life quickly becomes unbearable. Aspects of realty begin slipping into his waking dreams, aspects of his dreams slip into realty. 

Reality bleeds into the opening scene.

INT: Underground command bunker from beginning scene but with aspects of GARDNER’s home.   

Camera pans across the room and slowly zooms in on GARDNER. He has a slightly puzzled look on his face as his eyes scan the room searching for familiarity. The bunker contains aspects of his home life. His bedroom bathroom is connected to the bunker. We see CLARA brushing her hair in front of the bathroom mirror.    

CURAN storms in spots and heads straight to GARDNER

CURAN: Fucking Zenos, Gard!

CLARA (from the bathroom): Have another bad dream, dear?

CURAN: It’s not natives, Gard. Zenos. We are under attack by fucking Zenos.

CURAN and GARDNER both turn to look at the only OFFICER in the room. GARDENER looks past the OFFICER to CLARA. The OFFICER visibly perplexed as he looks over battle plans and maps spread out over GARDNER’s kitchen table. He is mouthing something to himself.

CURAN grabs GARDNER by the arm and escorts him toward the OFFICER

OFFICER: We were sent to recon’. Zenos weren’t expected in this sector for another two lunars. Supplies are in route. Templars are in route … 

He looks up from the table at GARDNER

OFFICER: Gardener I need you to tell me where the fleet is. How many squadron of Templars are there? 

GARDNER stares at the OFFICER and starts to rub his forearm. 

CURAN: Gard, are you ok? You should answer. How many squadrons of Templars are there?

CLARA (from the bathroom): Have another bad dream, dear?

  GARDNER reaches for his abdomen as if pained.

CURAN: How many squadrons of Templars are there?

OFFICER: Where is the fleet?

CLARA (from the bathroom): Where is the fleet, dear?

CURAN: Have another bad dream? 

GARDNER drops to his knees, the pain in his forearm and abdomen have grown unbearable. CURAN,CLARA and the OFFICER hound him with the same questions. GARDNER falls to his back and begins convulsing unbearably.     

CLARA (from the bathroom): Have another bad dream, dear?  

Cut to black

The distant thump of a heartbeat grows noticeably louder. The scene flickers from black to GARDNER as hey lays strapped into an alien but what is obviously a medical table. He is bare, covered in probes. Lacerated and without his right forearm, his abdomen is a maze of tubing serving as an artificial digestive system. He begins to struggle against his straps as realization sets in. He begins to hyperventilate he is on the verge of panic he turns to see a Zeno standing over him.

Fade to black

Tales of the Crossroads: The coming of Old Guy

Excerpt of an excerpt from Old Guy’s Compositions:

“‘A lost wanderer without a map, I tended to my Earthly duties all the while with realization that it was all for naught. For while in self- reflective meditation and having unwrapped ego, like one would a mummy, I found only more wrapping and eventually no mummy. “What need of anything has a mummy? What needs has a no-mummy mummy?”

Seeing my incarnation as it truly was, zombie-like I rose realizing carnal cravings as ultimately unfulfilling. Rotting flesh consuming rotting flesh but with nourishing mind, “Carry on carrion but know, only illuminous light can abate this appetite.”

The gaze of the opening mind’s-eye burst into flame all perceived things. Burning all. All was burning. Burning to the very threads of all conditioning. Amidst the conflagration of annihilation many voices cried out for help. Save one, the voice of a child. “Oh pardon me. Humpf” he said as he made his way to the front of those tortured souls.

“Oh pardon me. Humpf.” Having parted that burning sea, he sat lotus-like before me. OM MANI PADME HUM said he and all was at ease. Enheartened the host departed having heard the message from the enlightening mind of the cosmic child.
A bright-light overexposed all things until only light remained, the voice was in me.

Listening to that long suppressed voice of my inner child, no longer oppressed it sang praises of childlike fascination and wonder and pure love, without hate nor greed nor illusion. And so, as I child I wandered the woods and as a child I saw things anew.

“Like a child of the woods, free. Free to see the trees for the trees, the one in you and the one in me.”

Learning spells I discovered mystic gateways, magic portals to many a realm of Dakas and Dakanis, God’s and Goddess benevolent and wrathful. The many faces of the Goddess.

The saffron veiled key-bearer to the World said, “The messenger is the message and the message is that of salvation of all you love”

What joy. What bliss. Happy and free I came to the Crossroads of the Styx to develop equanimous lovingkindness of enlightening mind with hopes of providing solace to new and old friends alike.

And together we danced, singing praises of the many faces of one.‘“

Namo Gurubhya, Buddhāya, Dharmāya, Sanghāya

#TALES OF THE CROSSROADS

Tales of the Crossroads: Bards of the BarDo

Arriving

At a place we called Mahabodhi at a crossroad near Oooo was established a Mission, after having paid homage to the Gods and upon praying for the salvation of all. Carrying two copper coin for the going.
We sang and we danced on the banks of the Styx.

Singing praises of the Goddess in her many form for her love and grace. From her we are born and so no more need forlorn.

We were the grateful dead for the dead can dance and so we did in decadence.

Staying

Betwixt the Space Capsule and the Time Boat and Pleasure “Pavilion” we built an hearth and an alter in the form of a compass. The alter we placed at The Crossroads a meeting of Past, Future, and Now, the junction of There, There and Here.
The Hearth we kept lit and prayed it gave warmth and light to the passing souls we would meet at the Crossroads of the BarDo.

Attending to our duties, let them find us thus, paying homage to the Gods and praying for the salvation of all. Happy. Free. With intent to help Shepard in the BarDo and with desire to develop Perfect Renunciation, Perfect Loving Kindness and Bodhichitta , Perfect Ecstatic Blissful Wisdom.

Here follows Tales of the Crossroads. including the fabled famously fable fabling of the fable “Uddha and Xander on the road to Arayuddha and of their tales of meeting Ammara.”

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#TALES OF THE CROSSROADS