2023 And Ghost Particles Haunting MINERvA

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“IMPOSSIBLE” PHYSICS BREAKTHROUGH ACHIEVED BY RESEARCHERS STUDYING MYSTERIOUS “GHOST PARTICLES”

MICAH HANKS·

BREAKING NEWSPHYSICSSCIENCE

·FEBRUARY 7, 2023

For the first time, scientists with an international experimental group say they have uncovered a new method of studying the components within the nucleus of atoms, using a novel method involving mysterious “ghost particles” known for the rarity of their interactions with matter.

Once considered impossible, the achievement was made by physicists at the University of Rochester in association with the MINERvA neutrino experiment, who now report their successful studies of the structure of protons by employing a beam of neutrinos in the journal Nature.

https://thedebrief.org/impossible-physics-breakthrough-achieved-by-researchers-studying-mysterious-ghost-particles/

The Future is Now

The Future does not discriminate; no one will be saved from the Future completely, physically intact. At least not in the way we are now. Not even those few like us who think for ourselves. But, unlike the vast majority of the population, we who Truly think for ourselves will at least finally have a clear Vision of the Truth before we die. And I can promise you that we who have that Last True Vision will have our Souls brought to a more Mindful place than everyone else, on a Higher level than ever before.

We are not elitist. We are Outcasts. No one has ever taken us seriously. But we Know the Truth because we are not influenced by anything we see or read anywhere other than recognizing that these were statements made by other people, not us. They are worth considering, but are, for all intents and purposes, meaningless. To think for ourselves, we need to experience reality first-hand in all situations, at all times. Someone else’s Word is only just that — someone else’s Word. It is not in any way our Word.

At this critical juncture in time, we overly analytical people of the world who value more than anything else Truly thinking for ourselves, realize one simple thing above all else: the sad, horrifying truth is that the amalgamation of all world politics, religion, media, and institutions have been, through an excruciatingly slow, grueling method, via higher elemental, cosmic manipulation, purposefully conglomerating into a supreme demonic energy, in an effort to bring down all world cultures without the people of those cultures realizing what brought them down.

That’s what always happens.

The deception of this is what is demonic. But believe it or not, the Apocalypse will not be. The Apocalypse, like all others of each Age before this one, is supposed to happen every so often; they are as natural to this Earth as you and I am, and how we relate to it. The manners in which they happen are the topic of discussion here.

This is a major reason why there must never be any divine intervention at any time, and especially not during an Apocalypse; things must be allowed to naturally take their courses on their own. I have never understood when otherwise intelligent individuals who think for themselves question some god or entity as to why they “aren’t coming to save us.” The entities are there. They just can’t save us. Or rather, they won’t. And this is not a bad thing. You See, the purpose of life is for we human beings to Observe and Imagine the God that we always Knew we were, even before we were born into these bodies, to organically and mindfully reconnect the dots into our higher selves. If the gods were to intervene during our human lives on Earth, none of us would ever be able to accomplish this, our main tasks on this planet, and safely land back on the other side. Not to mention, we would then be even more horrified and confused than before. In addition to allowing the enrichments of the personal successes of our lives to fully absorb into our consciousnesses, if we are finally able to see things for how they Truly are before our bodies die, then the true purposes of our current lives on Earth will have been met.

Let me put this bluntly. And it may seem counterintuitive at first. But the first step in figuring out how things Truly are on our planet is to fully realize that, given the ways things are ultimately supposed to be, and especially with today’s deliberate disinformation campaigns on the internet, there is absolutely no possible way for any human being, no matter who we are or where we’re located, to completely Know exactly what is going on in our world. Deductive reasoning isn’t as effective when so much propaganda is out there. It is not worth trying to figure out what is and isn’t True in the content of online news articles, no matter what the source; they are not even worth reading. And even though there are some decent printed news articles that may be worth reading just to see what people are actually choosing to believe, they are often too rife with slanted views and warped syntax to be taken at face value. Even videos can be “deepfaked,” but that also doesn’t mean we should automatically assume they aren’t real. Again, it is impossible for anyone to Know everything that is really happening in our world, no matter what we tell ourselves. But, once we accept this fact, fill in the blanks by thinking for ourselves — meaning, getting out there and experiencing life in person while thinking critically and reading books printed before the internet went online — and then prepare to die, we will then have the possibility to gain a Vision of the Real Truth for what It is as we die out of our bodies, accepting this death. And those reading this article already Know this fact, like I do, simply because it has happened to us before.

But, what’s the point, we may ask, if we are then dead once we finally know the Truth? You See, our lives can be fun and enriching and wonderful as we help each other think for ourselves throughout them. But, believe it or not, we are all still living on a very undeveloped, inhumane planet that does not ultimately serve any of our basic, natural interests. This is the reason those who live closest to nature think of many generations down the line, whereas those stuck in constructs of societies think only of the current one. Well-knit indigenous tribal cultures are in fact, and always have been, by far the most advanced cultures of the world; they help advance the well-functioning aspects of it much better and faster than any other culture. It is too bad they are practically extinct. When we live close to nature and keep this in mind, we will have a better chance of remembering this fact when we are reborn.

The Future may be Now. But it is just the Past of our next Future. “The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.” When we come back next time, we will be genetically enhanced if and only if we were able to overcome being duped about our human reality during this run of our lives. And the only way to do that is to think for ourselves and not let others think for us. Our genes all have the possibility to be reborn again into future humans into a new Earth, even when everything gets completely wiped out. How do we know for sure? Well, when we analyze the Sciences of Earth very deeply, we truly get a sense of how life behaves by way of death, and vice versa. Wonderful ecosystems could never thrive so beautifuly and complexly if death wasn’t also intermingled with the lives of the different plants and animals on it. If we didn’t die, our human lives would be meaningless. The main reason History repeats itself is because practically no one ever lives long enough to remember what actually happened, and the written History of our world has never been accurate, even before the internet ever existed.

This is why we must constantly, critically think for ourselves at all times. Everything we are exposed to online and via TV must be taken with a grain of salt, especially during wartime. Are there still people in the world who don’t at all use social media except WordPress, or don’t use cell phones or have cable or stream programs? You bet your ass there are! I am one of them. I digest printed books and published e-books exclusively. Sure, it leaves me feeling a bit lonely. But I can guarantee you that I am not in the slightest bit confused about a single thing in my life. I am ready to Ascend to the next level. Are you? -MIKE EYE

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One should not necessarily take to heart everything that is read online, including this article. But these Words do Truly come from my heart. Here are a bunch of recent photos of my dog Frankie and Eye. Peace to all of you! Love, Mike Eye.

LAST STEP TO THE FIFTH WORLD.

Eye was born in the USA, in 1983, 2 months before the Montauk “Project” was initiated.

In 2003, at the age of 20, I was in college, working at a tea bar, and recording drumkit and vocal sessions in the studio at my school, happy as all hell and everything was wonderful. I had been HARD into writing hip-hop and slam poetry, and had recently received a HUGE dose of highly spiritual inspiration; my writing had improved exponentially between ’99 and ’02, and people were noticing. But then suddenly the source of influence for all of my writing completely disappeared, very rapidly, out of the blue, and it has baffled me ever since. To this day, despite having written and published an incredibly unique allegorical, archetypal Sci-Fi/Fantasy novel written during 2011, ’12, & ’13, I have still been unable to distribute and sell any copies of it properly, which has nevertheless been my “career” this past decade. And yet, it has never been able to offer me any fruits of labor, whatsoever, not even One Poisoned Apple.

Looking into it for years, I found out in 2010 that in 2003, both the magnetic and electrical peaks of an 80-year dimensional blend project had occurred within 3 months of each other, and the alignment with the signets of Earth’s Templar (12-dimensional matrix) was both naturally and artificially connected to our current timeline on Earth via both naturally-occurring and forcefully-directed higher-dimensional frequencies resonating throughout our Harmonic Universes in Krystal and Fibonacci spirals (see below). It is also important to note that 2003 was also the year that the much-beloved Dimebag Darrell Abbott of the infamous PANTERA was assassinated on the anniversary of John Lennon’s assassination, effectively ending the Nü Metal wave that was started by Korn in 1994 (the same year Kurt Cobain blew his brains out with a shotgun, effectively ending the Grunge scene.) Thank you greatly to all of the real Lightworkers who grounded the Earth’s frequency with their bodies at the location of the Arc Planetary Seed Atom (APSA) at that time in Southern France. Without your help, the planet would have undoubtedly suffered major “natural” disasters, the Tribulations having initiated on Earth 20 years sooner. That’s why SARS (the Virus that causes Covid-19) was engineered and ready to infect the masses in 2003, but there was a problem — one more piece of the puzzle needed to be solved before wrapping this all up.

Something seriously Intense was needed in this dimensional blend experiment that peaked energetically in 2003, which E’Asha Melchizedek (formerly Ashayana Deane, MCEO* Speaker 1) calls Hetharo (electric) / Hethalon (magnetic). Using the natural frequencies of our solar system’s planets’ processions in relation to Earth, and in conjunction with Venus transits in particular, as well as Earth’s lunar phases (remember that Venus is still in anti-phase to Earth), all connected to the artificial holes in timespace/spacetime that were ripped open by both the Philadelphia Experiment (1943) as well as the Montauk Project (1983), the close of the full 80-year experiment would need to occur to set everything in motion for the true Apocalypse. Just in time for my 40th Birthday.

That is why I am writing this article. I have just received Word from my channels that in 2023, there will be a “perfect storm” of events occurring simultaneously: Venus’s Pentagonal Alignment with Hetharo / Hethalon (which I call the H Event, referencing the TOOL song) in conjunction with CERN’s large hadron collider outputting 14 TeV, will initiate an intimate connection, and an apocalyptic conclusion, to the high degree of coupling frequencies still emitting from both heinous occurrences of the Phi-Ex & Montauk Project.

Which brings us to the ultimate lyrical meaning of TOOL‘s “Descending,” off their latest, most incredible 7th album, FEAR INOCULUM [2019]. I tend to think this is a song about the collective unconscious of humanity finally experiencing the certain onset of the prophesied Trials and Tribulations — the last stand Humanity will have to make against false idols, corrupt governments, distorted religions, and unreal “History.” Maynard James Keenan, like E’Asha Melchizedek, is a true modern-day prophet, here to guide true Angelic 12-strand, 12-Tribe human beings of the 3rd Seeding to the 5th World of the 2nd Harmonic Universe, Tara — Future Earth, which will now be accessible to us by August 13th, 2023 (dimensions 4, 5, & 6). Only remaining vigilant, mindful, and WITHOUT FEAR can we, as a human race, Ascend to the next level, and each become Kryst for Ourselves. Mass Peace. -MIKE EYE / darkesoterika.com

Happy Full Moon and upcoming Autumnal Equinox 2021, everybody, and I’ll See You with bong in hand on the Other Side in 2023, awaiting the arrival of Hitler and the grey Zetas!

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*MCEO = Melchizedek Cloister Emerald Order — the true modern-day, non-dogmatic Freedom Teachings based on the original Law of One, originally used in Atlantian & Mu societies [this is not at all related Drunvalo Melchizedek, & his Flower of Life Facilitation; E’Asha conducts Kathara Healing 12-Tree workshops based on Keylontic Science]

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I leave you with the full details of How To Unlock Your True Self and Save Humanity NOW:

major-planetary-grid-alignments-2020-2023Download

9-year-vision-1Download

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit D.

Getting behind the guns and huge arms of Joel’s killer, Abby, from The Last of Us Part II, gives the player different weapons and techniques, and allows you to also get inside the head of one of the game’s most brutal antagonists. Yes, she has a story of her own, and is actually a high-ranking member of Seattle’s Washington Liberation Front (WLF) who’s life gets saved by dissident ex-members of the primitive Seraphite faction, and ends up becoming a post-apocalyptic rogue outcast herself. Enjoy these short, badass video clips! -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit C.

Here are more totally badass video clips of me tactically slaying vicious, poor cordycepts-controlled zombies in The Last of Us Part II as the passionate and vengeful young Ellie, on a mission to bring down Abby. This very well-made game was incredibly fun and exciting to play, and I hope my blog readers of Dark Esoterika have fun watching these PS4 clips of my Last of Us Part II highlight reel! You’re Welcome! 😜 -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit B.

Now, here are some of my short, exciting, scary and wonderful video highlights as Ellie from The Last of Us II, exploring Seattle and taking out various stages of the cordycepts-infected as well as uninfected enemy faction members. I will make another post after this one featuring more videos of my high achievements with Ellie, and then make a few posts with videos of me as Abby, who is stronger and even better equipped to deal with zombies than Ellie is. Enjoy! -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit A.

After having had a blast playing through the highly anticipated PS4 game multiple times, and after reviewing and editing my personal video clips from it, I am now ready to showcase my Last of Us II big survival action highlight videos for the world to see!

For those who were unaware, this action survival game sequel is the second installment in another highly emotional, yet also grisly, and most thrilling adventure that takes place in a post-pandemic, post-apocalyptic United States where most people have either died or have transmuted into various stages of sneaky, vicious feral zombies, due to the Outbreak of a cordycepts brain infection that has wiped out most of the world’s population. The last non-infected survivors of the US eventually dismantle all law-enforcement and split into separate warring factions that patrol the now destroyed and empty lands for supplies or other survivors.

In the first game, 14-year old Ellie, seemingly the only survivor to be naturally immune to the virus, was being trafficked by members of the Fireflies faction across the country to be used, and then killed, to make a vaccine to the cordycepts. But Joel, the man charged with taking her on this trek to the Fireflies hospital base for the operation, was not about to let that happen once he found out it would kill her; not after the powerful bond they had made on their journey there, and how much Ellie reminded him of his own daughter, who had been tragically killed by quarantine zone feds.

In the second game, Joel is killed for being the one to ruin any chance of there being a vaccine for the virus, and Ellie, severely emotionally distraught after witnessing his brutal murder, goes on a quest for revenge to take out Joel’s killer, Abby, of the WLF faction, who’s father was the doctor to perform Ellie’s operation in the first game, and was killed by Joel to save Ellie’s life. As a player, you get to control Joel, Ellie, and Abby at different times throughout the game. The bond Ellie and Joel make over the years is extraordinarily adorable and incredibly powerful, and it is so wonderful to be a part of it as a player. This special bond has also become beloved among countless Last of Us fans around the world, and has even spawned a TV show based on the game on HBO that is already amassing fans.

I’ll begin my Last of Us II showcase with this first post, not of me stealthily evading and taking down infected zombies yet, but of a cut-scene of a flashback from when Joel thoughtfully takes Ellie to a science and nature museum for her birthday. Remember, these are post-apocalyptic times in a fictional US, and there is nobody around and nothing to do anymore. -MIKE EYE

A special birthday for Ellie.

Our Latest Blog Post From Our Most Beloved Red Queen

https://1320frequencyshift.com/2020/11/02/9-weeks-of-transformation-to-2021/

A New Study Circumvents a 178-year-old Theory

Scientists have figured out a way to create and cancel magnetic fields from afar. 

https://www.space.com/amp/magnetic-fields-created-from-afar

BOSTON CALLING 2020 MUSIC FESTIVAL RIGHT HERE @ HARVARD FEATURING A REUNITED RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE, FOO FIGHTERS, & RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS 🔥

A QUICK VISIT TO ANDROMEDA

 

 

[CHAPTER TEN]

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Slowly rising out of her unconsciousness, the little snake shuddered as she tried to shake off her immense dreariness, noticing at Once that the last time she had felt this Lightheaded was when she didn’t even have a Head. She was packed in tightly somewhere, buried deep among countless forms that matched hers. She realized something bad had happened to her; most of her memory seemed so distant she thought she may now be living a new life.

But she wasn’t, she realized, after a few unsteady moments. She had been taken from her best friend and fellow neurobiological counterpart, how long ago she hadn’t the slightest clue, but as the clearness of her memories sharpened slightly, Amrita could not mistake the stark sense of déjà vu that struck her. She had been here before, she realized ironically, in the face of not yet remembering how she even got there. It was long ago, she realized, and she had been caught up in the same messy mix with other snakes all slopped together in what seemed to be some sort of satchel.

Amrita started to slither her way free of all the others pressed about her, but as she tried to go any further upward she felt a softening of the response-time of her efforts, her motor skills having somehow become dramatically weakened. With difficulty, the snake started to slowly move as it attempted slithering past all that confined her within. The other snakes she was contained with seemed to be dead or at least unconscious like she had been; none of them moved.

As Amrita quietly poked her tiny dirtied head out at the surface of her soup bowl of serpents, she just as soon remembered she had originally been placed in a glass box, as she found herself dumbly looking directly at it across from her. But her thoughts about what exactly had happened to her quickly diminished as the background of where she was came painfully to the forefront of her gaze.

 

 

 

In the near distance were at least fifty short, hairy, and nude men who all looked quite similar, all clustered together in a cloud of slight snorts and sharp moans before the wizened guru who stood blindfolded, wrapped in his long, flowing grey robes against all his brothers and sons with the almighty Staff of Lachrylon raised Highly in One hand and his mysterious bottomless drinking gourd beared by the other. He was feeding and blessing these men with his eternal magic water, which fully provided them with all the right nutrients they would need to survive, Amrita Knew.

As curious as she was about what was happening before her, Amrita remembered that she had been taken captive and was now resenting the old man for it. This was her chance to make a break for it and slither away before anyone noticed her escaping. But before she did, her curiosity convinced her to spy out this spectacle a moment longer.

Al Rodnam, although short himself, stood tall over all the little mysteriously shrunken Gilded Grunts, who were slightly jostling about in mixed confusion beside him and muttering low phrases of gibberish that trailed off into other sporadic outbursts. There was a subtle glow about the Grunts as they Received the special Water, and slight sparkles of stardust slowly beamed off their inquiring Heads with a blinding arc at the sheen. And as Amrita was watching this, she made a disturbing connection.

These were the Gilded Grunts — some of the only men left on the planet since Mother Magdalena had followed the mystic’s orders and chopped off their…

These here were not snakes at all she was packed within.

In a flash of an instant — almost in the same moment she realized it — Amrita shot out of the bag of dicks and made a break for it, shaking off the pestilence that had fastened a quick grip on her.

But it was no use.

“Ahh, there you are!” she could hear the old man cry in the distance as she felt herself being raised into the air and brought toward him, her efforts at defying his clutch of magick futile. “I was wondering when you’d arise!”

Amrita panicked as she was being brought towards Al Rodnam, squirming with all her might in an attempt to escape his hold, but as she floated involuntarily up to his Head, the old mystic attempted to put her at ease.

“There, there,” he soothed part-mockingly with his Voice and one cocked eyebrow before casting aside all speech for telepathy. “I can also communicate with you like this,” he said matter-of-factly with bold emphasis.

“Let go of me!” Amrita shot back telepathically, hisses escaping her mouth with a forked-tongue fury. “I know. Fuck You, old man! I’m still furious with you for turning me into a snake! Release me at once!”

“Oh? I thought you would be delighted to return back to your true form and mingle with those of your shape and nature,” said Al Rodnam with a wink as he fastened her with a locking sound about the crown of his Head. “Besides… Lina, myself, and these Grunts here need you to Be this way. As do the Hawks and All of Bry Dellows and the planet Urth. I also Know that You Know this is So.” He pointed to all the little hairy, retarded old men as they dumbly looked back at Amrita who couldn’t at all move her Body as much as she tried. “Come with me,” stated the old man to the poor snake as if she had a choice to do so.

 

 

Al Rodnam brought Amrita down a dusty path that was bordered mindfully with glowing rune-marked stones at its edges that gave off a faint phosphorescence upon the approach of the old mystic.

Then Amrita heard the squeals.

Just ahead, the trapped serpent so hexed who now functioned as the mystic’s halo noticed very obviously where Al Rodnam had brought their transmuting unicorn friend from Agartha to be duplicated for Loombug food. As they passed, Amrita could see countless hairy hogs pigging around fastidiously in a wood-fashioned sty that was also littered with runes all over.

“Thank you for bringing me your friend,” the mystic motioned with one hand to the sty. “As I mentioned, I was able to duplicate him to the correct number as needed by the Loombugs for survival after I am gone and will no longer be able to bestow upon them my magickal sustenance.”

“Gone?” asked Amrita, surprised, still resentful. “You’re leaving?” she asked in an annoyed voice.

“Soon,” said the old man as he continued past the noisy pig pen to the edge of his camp. “But first, we must do something important.”

“I’m not doing anything for you!” exclaimed Amrita, affectionately offended. “You turned my friend into a pig!”

“I did not,” replied Al Rodnam carefully. “The surface world’s environment transformed him to something useful.”

“Something useful?” bellowed the serpent in indignation, “The same way I’m being useful to you?”

“Precisely!” the old man stated as he came to a halt.

He waited several moments more before again taking up the Staff of Lachrylon, softly muttering some indiscernible phrases as he waved it around before him. The Staff flared to life, hot orange streaks flooding out of the runes on it in waves, a fire ripping open an electrically charged circle around them. It lit up the environment in a burst, catching Amrita off-guard, as if she could guard herself, anyway. The mystic made another full fiery arch above his head with the Staff in One full swoop that left trails of blue electric shocks in its Wake. Then he tapped the Staff against the Stuck Amrita on his Head Four Times, and by the fourth tap, they had already transported to a different location.

Spread out wide and far were gentle rolling pastures of grassless Soil dotted sparsely with small huts, the materials of its design undeterminable by Amrita. Encasing everything all around the mute pastures was Diamond Glass held in place by titanium alloy, the glitter of zillions of Stars, Nebulae, and Aurorae spilling through the crystal-clear glass and illuminating the entirety of the outpost most brilliantly in a flush of celestial glister.

“I know you know this place,” Al Rodnam stated calmly.

The serpent on his head rolled around her eye sockets. “The Andromeda Biodome. But why?!”

“You Know Why, Amrita. To keep our boys ready to be reaping the Space-Grain that will One Day be sprouted here to keep the Blood-Pigs fed so the Loombugs can eat. We need many Loombugs alive, Rita.”

“Yes. And permanent sustenance for them. Once you’re gone,” Amrita remembered telepathically aloud. The man turned around and with him, Amrita, and the snake were surprised to see that all the Gilded Grunts of Bry Dellows had followed them through the portal to the Andromeda Biodome. “It’s True, I Know that the Loombugs must be fed and kept safe, multiplying to the utmost in order to eventually give birth to more Hankerhawks, which Lina needs to have her Revelation, I Know.” Her pupils were not only fully dilated but spinning around in continuum, one counterclockwise to the other.

“But there are very few men left in Bry Dellows and our jarred rations of sperm are running thin, old man. You said you must go from Bry Dellows. As of now, we have managed to Spawn only Four Hankerhawks… we need eight more until they can Combine with Lina. The prospects of our highly-populated Imagined future appear grim. Will You leave Us no sperm?”

“I have no more to give,” Al Rodnam stated simply with wide eyes and matter-of-factly, quickly changing the subject before Amrita could interject. “I brought our Grunts, who have all been Gilded by our Mother Magdalena, Here to this High Kusp of galactic hallways, inside a hidden pocket of time-space.”

 

 

“I Know about the Andromeda Biodome,” declared Amrita willfully. “Why do you bring me here, old man?”

“To return this to you,” he stated calmly, and after several gags he mindfully regurgitated out from his mouth something small and sparkly, drenched in mystikal Saliva. It was Magdalena’s Amulet which he had been saving inside himself until this moment here and now, She Knew. It had somehow transformed into an Emerald, and Amrita couldn’t understand.

“I don’t under—“

“Shhh,” the mystic whispered to the snake. “Sure you do.” And with that he held the shimmering Emerald against Amrita, who remained locked atop his head. It fixed into place with a *shluckk* sound and a huge splash of green lit Amrita up.

“Let’s go back to Bry Dellows,” said Al Rodnam. “We’ll leave the Grunts be for the moment.

Amrita, amid the feeling of intense euphoria, felt also climactically invulnerable as the old man passed through the space-time rip that had been left open and entered his camp at Bry Dellows Once again.

It was nighttime and the Moon was Full but not white, returned to a deep, familiar tone of thick burgundy that flooded the dusky depths of the Hollow with a pale, bloody flush.

“We’ll leave this artificial wormhole opened for the time being,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have engineered it to only work with the Grunts from now on.

“Now. Go and tell Magdalena what I have told you. By the time she hears what you have to say, I will be Gone.”

With another loud *schluck* sound, Amrita was removed from the mystic’s head and set free upon the ground, the green sheen diminishing abruptly with the cease of the sound.

Amrita slithered as fast as she could all the way to Mother Magdalena’s campsite.

 

IF YOU’VE ENJOYED THIS SHIT, PLEASE LIKE IT & SHARE IT. THANK YOU. -MIKE EYE 🤘 💜 🌌

RIDING THE WAVES OF CREATION WITH TOOL

 

Readers and Bloggers of DARK ESOTERIKA, Eye Thank You Deeply Yet Again for Taking the Second of A Day Now to Transcend Ultimately for the Last Time With Me.

As Ewe all No, Eye Am bred from (a) TOOL. Or, rather, I Resonate most strongly with the same “Kreation Wave” interference patterns as the members and most fans of TOOL do. Dr. Carl Johan Calleman, known prolifically as one of the “main proponents of the idea that the Mayan calendar reflects the evolution of consciousness,” boldly purports a kompelling modern-day theory also held by many other modern-day ‘mystery school’ facilitators and spiritualist groups commonly come to be Known as the Fractal-Holographic Model. As Calleman explains in his awesome recently released book (2016), The Nine Waves of Creation: Quantum Physics, Holographic Evolution, and the Destiny of Humanity, “This theory entails an entirely new way of approaching the betterment of humanity…

 

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FEAR INOCULUM

 

I got into TOOL in 1996 when AENIMA came out. I was the perfect age to be woken up by this album — 13. The rest is history. I consider myself as hard a TOOL fan I could possibly be, having been born in ‘83; as soon as I hit puberty, I got into Rock and Metal music, and into TOOL in particular. At the time, in ‘96, I habitually listened to my local alt-rock station, WAAF, which actually played not just Rock, but Metal regularly throughout the ‘90’s. During the reign of AENIMA, almost every song from the album was played on that station, including not just Stinkfist, H, 46 &2, & Aenema, but also Eulogy, Pushit, and Third Eye. Jimmy would be the only exclusion.

Not that it mattered. I had already bought the album the day after I had first seen the Stinkfist video on MTV (although for some shady reason, it was referred to as “Song 1” only on MTV at the time, not the radio) and had already been studying it deeply, always making sure to listen to it from start to finish. I had NO idea what I had in store for me Once having bought AENIMA for the first time. I remember the physical jewel case of the copy of AENIMA I bought having a peculiar, perfectly cut out smooth puzzle piece in the lower right section.

I always knew it meant something.

Listening to the songs off of AENIMA ripped me a Third Eye and completely enhanced my View on life for so much the better, that by the time LATERALUS dropped in ’01 and I was a senior in high school, it didn’t take me as long to dissect the album as the previous One had. But it still took 6 months at least for the LATERALUS album to be completely absorbed by my inquiring membranes.

In my humble opinion, ladies and gentlemen, it is completely amateur and counterintuitive, not to mention impossible, to write an honest heart-felt review of FEAR INOCULUM this soon. I’m sure most long-time fans would agree. As much as this incredible band has had hard airplay in the past, they were never a “radio band,” which makes their radio feats all the more remarkable. This may be difficult for a traditional millennial to understand, as the internet has completely changed the music industry for the worse since the 90’s.

This beloved, long-awaited new TOOL album will take months to grow on us. It is absolutely incredible and mature. So it will be months from now, I’m afraid, until I give DARK ESOTERIKA’s official review of FEAR INOCULUM because, as with every single other post posted on this website, I want it to be 100% Heart-Felt, and completely genuine.

For now, Chapter 10 will be released soon. As well as my personal current ideas on this shit-culture freaking our children out to be poverty-stricken before the end of the next generation as the POSITIVE outcome for the future, which was yesterday. -MIKE EYE / GO FUCK YOURSELF.KOM

ANIMALS AS LEADERS 10-Year Anniversary Sold-Out Show At The Paradise, Boston Blew My Mind Last Night 🌌

So Heavy, So Innovative, So Epic!

It Was A Really Great Show! Check Them Out HERE If You Don’t Know Them!

THE EPIK WORLD OF DARK ESOTERIKA

via ABOUT MY EPIK WORLD

OF INNER EARTH AND SURFACE EARTH

 

Chapter 9

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Ever since he had first seen her bathing in Agartha’s mystical pond of Rebirth, which glittered most gloriously he now knew, Fletcher Munsin’s sexual fantasies of himself being intimate with this so-called Lady Magdalena had been dominating his adolescent curiosity as he continued to unprovokingly obsess fanatically about her without knowing why. And although he wouldn’t at all understand the intense feelings he was now permanently experiencing day after day like a Kurse of Konfusion during his mostly lonely time in the otherwise deeply pleasurable and clean Inner Earth Underworld, the man would eventually come to discover far too late that he was truly in deep-love-since-first-sight with this ‘kreature from Below,’ as his new unicorn friends would start calling the Mother, after Fletcher Munsin had told them both about her.

The two cute, little white unicorns had warned Fletcher Munsin about the mysterious little Pond and its location, and how dangerous they thought it was — that particular impression being of course afterall the Word of the Woods. But Fletcher Munsin had wanted to See the Pond for himself. After first witnessing the heavenly twinkle glinting off the glare of its surface and how it shimmered, he thought he somehow understood why a human creature so stunningly gorgeous as the Lady Magdalena would be attracted to it. A human creature she was, supposedly. A human creature like he, himself was — supposedly.

The man was intrigued and mesmerized by the Pond. He bathed in its Waters periodically hoping the woman would return, not straightaway feeling anything particularly remarkable about it, but fascinated with it nonetheless. He began keeping most of his time within a Stone’s throw of it, and throw Stones into it he so did throughout the day.

 

 

One afternoon, after a month of creeping around sketchily in the area of forest surrounding the Pond, Fletcher Munsin caught sight of Mother Magdalena once again as he inadvertently bore witness to her instantaneously breaking through into the Underworld via a rift he saw suddenly rip open with a sparkle just beside the Pond, depositing Magdalena on the ground nearby it. That rift, when torn open somehow, must be the doorway to what Al Rodnam calls “Surface Urth!” marveled Fletcher Munsin. That other world must be Magdalena’s world. But was Magdalena truly human like Fletcher Munsin apparently was? Considering all he thought and felt about her without even yet meeting her in the flesh, the man was thinking that if he, himself, indeed was in fact human, then she most definitely was as well, although probably the member of a darker-skinned tribe from the one out of twelve the lightly-tan Fletcher Munsin was supposedly a descendent.

Wow, he thought. The man attempted to explain to himself the odd, bizarre feeling of surreal attraction he was experiencing, and failed. The woman had stolen his heart, and he blushed, then grinned, as he privately admitted to himself that he would do absolutely anything to please her. If it were in fact true that she and him were both human, and that humans hailed from Surface Earth, then the so-called Surface Earth is his birthright as much as that of his alleged world in the Sirius Sector! His Imagination spun wild. Did the mystic who manifested me into three-dimensional existence purposefully forgo informing me of this other crucial fact of my heritage in his sorry-ass excuse for an explanation of who I am and where I’m from? The curious man all of a sudden felt a sharp pain surge through his systems and deliver him sharp emotions of how so cold and alone he in fact was and would be in life, throughout all versions of himself, in every incarnation.

Fletcher Munsin wondered what it would take for him to be able to pass through to the other side of this portal, if it was indeed at all possible. And although he was not supposed to do so, he wanted badly to pass through it and see what it was really like there. His curiosity piqued and he imagined himself taking his Mother by the Hand and teleporting to Surface Earth — the Land that was really Below. How beautiful it must be there.

 

 

And so it was that Fletcher Munsin had convinced his two unicorn friends that if they did indeed wish to travel to Surface Earth — a place where they, too, had supposedly originated — they must come with him to the feared Pond, informing them that he had located the entryway there. Besides, he had told them, he was trying to find a way there himself. It took several days of convincing — for, the two twin unicorns were mighty cowardly — but the two, finding courage from Fletcher Munsin’s guidance and enthusiasm, made their way to the Pond with the man on a fine sunny day like most others in Agartha.

When the three supposed Earthlings drew in view of the most-curious shimmering wonder modestly wavering in the center of a stand of bold oaks, Sybil, one of the two little unicorns, abruptly came to a quivering standstill.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sybil’s twin, Salient, telepathically to his brother. “It’s the Pond. We’ve arrived. I know we’d made a promise never to come back, but we’ve seen it before, Sybil. Why the sudden apprehension?”

“I… I — don’t remember it being so colorful,” replied Salient, “Look, Sybil, the Waters — they’re churning slightly despite not having a source of disturbance. Something is different about this Pond this time. Something has… has changed about it.”

“Maybe we’re the source of disturbance,” joked Fletcher Munsin telepathically to his two friends, then laughed. “I’m only kidding. I doubt that the Pond’s Waters has any consciousness of its own.” He paused. “But I guess you guys would know the likelihood of that better than I would.”

“It… is possible,” said Sybil to Salient inquisitively.

 

 

Salient was frustrated at this statement, fearing his brother may be taking on a new approach from how the two of them both used to think about the Pond, all because of their strange new friend’s passionate obsession — their new human friend, who didn’t seem to know much of anything other than the English language, even though he couldn’t vocally speak it. “You really think so?” asked Salient from within his head to his brother.

“So what if it does?” said Sybil with a hint of annoyance, “Do you think the Pond is going to swallow you up whole and shit you out in some devil’s world? What’s the matter with you? We’re fine. We’re only here because our new mute friend here said he saw the portal to our beloved Underworld next to the Pond here with his own eyes. And, I thought we had finally resolved to see if we can pass through it! I know it’s scary. I’m scared, too, Salient. But we have to suck it up if we ever wish to get back to the world we’re from.”

“He’s right,” chimed in Fletcher Munsin telepathically with a determined look.

Salient remained silent, still shivering slightly.

“Oh, come on, Salient!” Sybil pressed to his brother. “Tell ya what. If we’re gonna figure out how to do this properly and effectively, however we’re able to do it, you need to rid yourself of your lingering worries,” stated Sybil, secretly feeling a bit worried himself. “It’s okay. This kreature from Below that Fletcher Munsin speaks of is nowhere to be Seen. Walk up to the edge of the Pond and take a sip. It will reassure you everything is okay! Go on! Fletcher Munsin and I will watch you here, from the brush.”

Salient glared at the Pond with determination but still felt really unsure of it. It was, afterall, shared amongst all the animals in the forest that drinking those Waters could be risking your health. But after a long moment’s hesitation, the brave little Salient reluctantly began making his way toward the Pond.

“There you go, brother!” offered Sybil with encouragement. “Trust me, my instincts tell me that the Pond’s Waters are not toxic in any way. After you take a sip of it, come back to us here in the brush and we’ll try to locate the whereabouts of this portal to our world somehow. Where exactly is it, friend?” asked Sybil to Fletcher Munsin.

“Just ahead beside the Pond here,” replied Fletcher Munsin. “It’s unmarked and can’t be seen until the Lady comes through it.”

Sybil was a bit confused but remained silent as he kept listening to the strange man.

“When Salient gets back I say we wait here until the Lady comes, try to befriend her, then ask her if we can go with her through the portal. I know it’s a sketchy plan, but that’s all I’ve been able to think of.”

The bold Salient was almost at the edge of the Pond now, his cautious steps becoming slower and slower as he approached it. When he was close enough to the Water to be able to take a sip, he looked back uncertainly at his companions.

“It’s okay!” Sybil shouted silently over to his brother. “You’re doin’ great, Salient! Let us know how it tastes!”

 

Salient arched his furry white neck over the side of the swirling Water and began slowly lowering it to take a sip but before his nose ever touched the surface, a rapid flash of a stick-like blur obstructed the figure of the poor unicorn as it inexplicably struck it, stunning it instantly to a fall, and he laid there at the edge of the pond, his limp body bleeding out from the arrow’s protrusion.

Sybil and Fletcher Munsin were instantly shocked to silence and disbelief as they watched from afar. After that most haunting moment, Sybil started to run over to his dead brother but Fletcher Munsin stopped him quickly with hushed, panicked words. “Sybil no! Wait here! Something’s moving up ahead!”

Both Sybil and Fletcher Munsin quickly crept behind the cover of a thick evergreen bush and looked out toward the fallen Salient as two long, thin legs black as midnight and glittering brilliantly strutted from behind a nearby tree up to his body, the great wooden longbow strapped to her back most evident. The woman was fully in view now, and the two stared on in amazement as they both instantaneously realized that Mother Magdalena had been there all along.

She carelessly snatched up Salient’s body and took a few cautious, angry steps away from the Pond, her mighty golden dress beaming rays of photons all about her. She adjusted her serpentine tiara, held still for a moment, then zapped away in a flutter of blinding stars and rainbows before the very eyes of Sybil and Fletcher Munsin, the two fully shocked out of their minds at the spectacle.

 

*     *     *

 

Magdalena was so determined to find an animal, so desperate to put Al Rodnam at ease and appease this mysterious “Solaria,” that she hadn’t planned too well the full execution of what had been requested of her from the old mystic regarding the need for animal protein in their tribe. She realized as much just after she ripped through the portal back to Surface Earth in a flash with the dead unicorn in hand and was immediately brought to a stunning halt by a high-voltage shock that hit her blockhead square in the face, knocking the dome-coiled Amrita from off her Head. This hadn’t hurt the majestically protected Mother, but her pet was squirming seemingly in agony on the ground before her. When the bright light subsided, a thin trail of vapor swirled around in its place, coming to slowly clear out about her to reveal an angry Al Rodnam just in front of her, a long rune-riddled hickory staff made from the incubating tree of his Immortal Earth held out in his grasp before his tiny frame at the Mother. And the stench of the post-apocalyptic air was most abhorrent.

Magdalena was speechless and embarrassed at Once as she came to the immediate cold, hard realization that the mystic had Known about the existence of her and Amrita’s secret Inner Earth Underworld all along, let alone the fact he had used his access to it in order to gain entry from the bottom of the rejuvenating Pond to his Immortal Earth and procure the Solaria Seed and four sticks that had now combined to become his mighty Staff of Lachrylon.

And he shook his staff at his Mother.

Before she could respond to the devious actions taken out by Al Rodnam, he threw out a throat-silencing spell to her vocal cords with a twist of his fingers, grabbed up the squirming Amrita from the ground, and ripped the unicorn carcass from Magdalena’s grasp.

“Thank you for this,” he stated calmly to the Mother, and started to turn around. “I knew I could count on you. But I am hereby stopping your access to the Underworld by imprisoning your pet for the time being. I’m sorry, Mother. But it must be this way,” said the mystic to Magdalena before turning back around slightly, a leather satchel that had been hanging off his shoulder now in his grasp. “I am going to go work on duplicating our food source,” he said, as the expired unicorn in his grasp, now fully ascending, and exposed to the toxic air of dead Surface Earth, started to morph into a horribly ugly Piggy that had inexplicably ripped out jagged little wings from out its shoulders. “Here, Mother,” he said earnestly. “I need you to think about what you’ve done.” And he raised the bulky satchel he was holding up to his Head and threw it at the face of the Mother, the binding twine that had secured its contents coming undone, a bunch of the gilded grunts’ detached penises hitting her squarely in the face, one of them coming to precariously bop her chin to the side with increased emphasis.

The Mother, a fierce look of hatred and resentment forming on her dirty dick-riddled face, attempted a response but found her vocal cords tied tightly shut. “I am taking the dead animal, your pet, and the grunts who have been gilded by you to my campsite for inquisition. Take your time, though…” Al Rodnam went on with pursed lips, “…getting acquainted with what the grunts had previously been endowed with.” The old man went on to expose his own penis and held it. “I still have mine, Mother, and I intend to continue using it.” He glanced coyly at the enraged Magdalena’s face before him and stated, before walking away hunched on his staff, “Fuck You, Mother.”

 

*     *     *

 

“I’m here, Lina!” came the ominous response from Amrita several hours later into Magdalena’s Head, “…at the old man’s campsite, inside some sort of glass box. You gotta release me! I’ll let you know when he goes to sleep. Then come for me, Lina!”

 

 

A couple of hours later, the Mother was beside the mystical glass cage that held Amrita prisoner. “I’m gonna find a way to save you!” she said telepathically to her pet. “And then, after that, we stop doing Solaria’s bidding and forge our own path forward!” she went on to state to her friend with conviction. “I am sick of this faraway, intangible god-force paving the road for us,” Lina shouted ostensibly with compulsion, before amending “Why has ‘Solaria’ decided what we must do with our world and people when I can’t even see this Solaria?!”

“That’s easy,” replied the snake with a hiss and squirm, “The answer to that is… you will come to see that I am Solaria.”

The Mother went white-faced and felt her throat tighten up again, this time doing so without the aid of the old man’s magick. But before the Mother could respond, the snake quickly added with an intoxicating laugh, “Just kidding!!!”

The Mother shot Amrita a cold stare. “Oh, very funny!” she managed with seriousness, “I forgot you have a sense of humor now as a snake. But honestly, I’m not amused!” Lina said boldly before adding, “I’ll find you a way out, Rita, and when I do, I’ll return.” She said it with assurance despite then turning away in disgust, her golden dress short-circuiting slightly in blinks as she tiptoed from Al Rodnam’s camp quietly, a flurry of frustration devouring her confidence. ♡ –MIKE EYE

The Legendary Metal Master of Mystery

DARK ESOTERIKA

Hot Summer Dayslike this One usually remind me of havin’ cookouts and journeying through music-filled festival grounds in an appreciative daze.

Even when the festivals I attended were incredibly upbeat and badass as Ozzfest was during the late ‘90’s and early 2000’s. These Ozzfests were definitely more fun and fulfilling than any other day-long concerts I had been to, and always had a winding, topsy-turvy evil circus side-show-type feel to them, a brutal dose of dropped guitar chugs and maniacal war criesalways underlying the spread of expanse setup at each show. The wonderful thingabout these festivals was that, even as a young teen, there was usually a feeling that arose in me, upon frolicking the tents and stages of this hearty world-traveled freak-show entourage, that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Except, in reality, I always knew I really was supposed to be there; this wonderworld of revelatory…

View original post 1,147 more words

THE HERITAGE OF THE HANKERHAWKS

 

 

Chapter 8

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She slipped from the shifting portal at the edge of the Hollow so softly as through running Water with a resolute spring, gorgeous as ever and Knowing it, leaping determinately onto the surface-plane of a post-apocalyptic shit-heap of ash and steam. The familiar radioactive residue of Fletcher Munsin’s ejaculation into mighty Mother Tara still lingered all about the Surface of Her, and was a horrid stench that Lina had gotten all-too-used to.

What a tremendous difference the air of the two separate realms bore! she marveled, thinking Inner-Earth and Surface-Earth complete opposites.

Not long after Birthing her Bry Dellows First-born, Mother Magdalena was forced to occasionally leave the child in the care of the old mystic Al Rodnam, as she agreed with Amrita to start Bathing in Breña in Agartha to stay revitalized in the way only a Hankerhawk could. But the Mother couldn’t shake the feeling that Al Rodnam somehow knew what she and her pet were doing. Upon returning to Surface-Earth after her First Bath, she was dumbstruck to find that her baby boy had all grown up. It wasn’t long after that, that the Mother came on to him with only small discomfort, his reaction surprisingly accepting.

Mother and pet were starting to notice that time on Surface-Earth seemed to speed-up while they were away; indeed, for every 28 minutes they spent inside the Inner-Earth, several decades will have spanned the length of that same time on Surface-Earth. Amrita explained it to her as she saw it, while noting at the same time that it was her “educated guess.”

“Exactly how ‘educated’ are you, Rita?” the Mother would ask suspiciously, in all seriousness. “Any more so since you were a robot-cat?”

The snake would always respond jokingly.

 

 

So it was that Magdalena then Saw the child she had produced with her First-Born son also age dramatically during the next time she was away in Agartha with Amrita, just as her First-Born had. She made use of the transformation and seduced him as well, just as Al Rodnam had instructed her, and with surprising ease, finding a way to save some of his special semen in another magical crystal-glass vial he had given her. From there forward, each time the Mother returned to Bry Dellows from the portal at the edge of the Hollow, she would selfishly insert either her First-Born or Second-Born’s Sirian Space Crystal-preserved semen into her body, almost in spite. And, then she would play the waiting game. Throughout the following 28 days, before she would need to go visit Breña again to stay young and beautiful, Magdalena will have gone through another whole productive cycle of gestation, being able to miraculously birth out a new child each month, for each Moon, and then see the children each aged several decades after returning from Agartha with Amrita, recharged, all the while Herself remaining forever young.

The Mother’s time during the first few generations of Bry Dellows history was a painful One. She was almost constantly in pain from the super growth rate of each new fetus artificially, yet divinely conceived inside her. And, although she saw very little of the old man Al Rodnam, the mystic was always sure to remind her, each time he saw her, that she was supposed to be bringing people into the Earth, to repopulate, and that the fast rate at which she was now able to reproduce allowed them to do so with ease. It was what Solaria demanded, he would remind her, what the higher density fire god required of her, although she herself had no memory of receiving those demands.

It wasn’t until after a few visits more to the Inner-Earth and back again that the Mother had brought Twelve people into the world who were not all the same age, but decades apart, spanning several generations, and the Mother stayed the same age throughout it all; her sacred friendship to Amrita, and her Bathing in Breña in Agartha allowed her to stay forever young, perpetually stuck at the perfect age of 28.

All Twelve people are Descendants of either Lina and her First-Born, or Lina and her Second-Born, not by sex, but by artificial insemination of sacred plasma-preserved sperm inside ageless Wood-incubated crystals Al Rodnam had taken from his secret Southpole Homeland. Currently, Magdalena has produced two old men, (one much older than the other) two old women, (also, one much older than the other) four young girls, and four young boys, in all. The two older men are the First and Second-Born of Magdalena while also being grandfather and father to the eight children. The two older women are their sisters.

The Mother, with her glittering magical golden dress blazing, rounded into the main camp area with a needlessly haughty swagger upheld by her great golden sceptre in hand, where her eldest, and most separate, most beautiful daughter sat poised so enticingly without trying the least bit to look sexy, but did in a rag-suit, her Head flooding with naiveté about how immaculate, how perfect her Body and Mind were, Here, Now, Continuously, as long as she existed, and she looked as Hot as her Mother now no matter which way she straddled that filthy log beneath her. And the Mother was noticing with bewilderment that her eldest now looked no different in appearance from when she had last seen her; one of her eldest’s other sisters, who was also Lina’s daughter and sister as well, now sat old and disabled on the dirty ground on the side of the main camp, grumbling simple phrases to a handsome man in a hide skin.

“Pssst—Rita!” whispered Lina before tele-projecting into the snake’s head, “Look! Over there by the campfire. My eldest. She looks a mirror-image of me! She hasn’t appeared to age at all, while I notice even now that my latest born son has grown from a baby to a young man! And a mighty handsome one at that. How has she maintained her youth during our absence while the others have aged as expected?”

There was brief pause from Amrita.

“It means she’s the One, child,” the little snake replied after a moment.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Your eldest daughter has revealed herself, out of all your six daughters, who are also your sisters, to be the only One with the relative genetic makeup to render her a Hankerhawk. Like the mystic said. Yes, I was expecting to see this, too. This is good.”

“It is?!” shouted Lina silently to Rita, who remained wrapped around her head, so-not innocent-looking.

“Yes, she can come to Breña with us to slow her aging process even more. She must, to keep the family cycle growing strong.” Lina frowned at Rita. “So, My Love—the old man has told us that One of your six girls will be Chosen. She must be the first Hankerhawk of Bry Dellows other than yourself—your eldest. We must bring her to the old man at Once to begin training.”

“Look, —she’s already talking to him on the log, over there. Should we approach?” The woman peered at her eldest in the near distance beside the mystic who had just showed up— her special daughter who was more like her sister. The two were almost identical in appearance now, and it baffled Lina. It also caused her to be slightly jealous for some reason.

 

 

Lina and Rita pulled up to where Lina’s eldest daughter was engaged in semi-serious conversation with Al Rodnam, beside a hearty hearth that blazed in the center of some encircling rune-inscribed rocks that each glowed a faint bright white. Both of them failed not to notice the pixie-dust-draped air surrounding everyone gathered at the Fire.

“Oh, wonderful! Magdalena! Amrita! I am certainly glad you two came about—I need to tell you something very important.” The old man was oddly jovial, and Lina could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he was about to share with her what she and Rita had just discovered.

“My Child. Your eldest: she is ready to advance to the next stage. She is the Chosen One.”

In the near distance, Magdalena became distracted of two more of her younger daughters she had not yet seen, who, she noticed at Once, were both simply repugnant. A lot like Mandorla, she thought—a daughter she had supposedly sacredly and bizarrely given Birth to by the Pond of the Aqueous Transmission on their way over to Bry Dellows; Lina had no memory of the Birth, but witnessed it after the curious event from a recorded video on Amrita’s belly-display during Amrita’s time as a robotic “cat.” Why are all of my daughters save my eldest so hideous in appearance, while my young sons are so good-looking? the Mother thought to herself, unnerved. She saw them act retardedly as well, and dumbly fixated on pieces of silver wood with curious etchings. The silver wood looked familiar to her, and the Mother wished to question the old mystic of their origin but felt a much more pressing, unanswered question gnawing at her temporal lobe.

Lina squinted her eyes at the old man. “Wait. How long have we been gone?” she asked, thinking it must have been decades although it felt like just a few hours to her.

“23 years and 106 days, my Child! But I must tell you something else, sit down, will you?” The mystic, who was draped in dark, flowing robes of a curious material, held out his hand to a log beside him, then went to caress the Mother’s eldest’s shoulder—her special daughter, who was more like her sister. Al Rodnam’s Eyes remained Unseen behind a dark handkerchief tied tightly around his head. With a wizened wrinkle of his facial features, the old man looked straight at the woman who was Mother Magdalena’s perfect double and said “Yes, this One here’s very special.”

“She must be,” the Mother vainly stated, “she looks just like me!”

“Indeed,” said the mystic, “you two have returned right on time! I Know now that it is time to proceed to the next stage of our re-civilization.”

“Which would be…?”

“Well, while you were away, your doppelganger here gave birth to her Fourth and Last Son of four handsome young boys, all only years apart. I know you haven’t even met them yet, but, as Amrita here will probably remind you—”

“—Again with Amrita?! How the hell would Amrita know anything about this strange family we’re creating here…?” The Mother thought again of her video-viewing of her forgotten Birth to Mandorla. And then, so as to conceal the words from Al Rodnam, telepathically, silently added to her pet, “Do you know more than you’re letting on, Rita? Don’t lie to me!”

 

The snake, still wrapped about her pet’s head, quickly curved its neck downward and shot Lina a sly stare with bold, beaded eyes. “I only know what I told you before, Lina,” the snake silently spoke telepathically to the woman, “that I remember what Solaria had Once demanded of you while you were in a High hypnotic state after a devastating crash-landing of your silver spaceship—that we must procreate to the utmost, but for to preserve human-kind. That’s all, My Love.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Rita and said nothing. Then she glared at the mystic. “Go on, old man,” she pleaded, “I wish to hear what you have to say. And be straightforward with me!”

“Of course, Mother,” spoke the old man, “…as I was saying, in order to keep our family thriving, under Solaria’s orders, the four young boys of your eldest must be castrated by you at Once, not only as a means for ritual sacrifice, but to absolutely guarantee none of them will ever reach puberty, allowing them any opportunity whatsoever to impregnate you the old-fashioned way: by having sex. And make no mistake, Magdalena; they sure as Hell will try to do so, no matter the manner of their upbringing. This little fix of our genetics I have arranged here will eventually keep more Hankerhawks Birthing into our Bry Dellows. You will Know what to do Once there are Twelve Hankerhawks.”

Magdalena was unnerved. “What the Hell do you know that you’re not telling me, old man?! If this is indeed true, how would you come to Know such a thing?”

The old man’s form subtley, but rapidly faded away from the Mother and her pet, only to statically return again a few seconds later with different color robes and his familiar magical, bottomless drinking gourd in his left-hand grasp.

The old man, with an utmost serious look in his eyes, then said “there are a great deal of Sirian souls out there who Monitor the atomization of our beloved Gaia and fellow Solar System, working endlessly from afar to prolong the inevitable dissolution and obliteration of planet Urth.” Al Rodnam raised the magical drinking gourd in his hand out to the flames, which licked fiercely over the campfire with a bizarre intensity. “As do I, Magdalena, but not from afar.” He took a hearty gulp from his curious gourd and passed it to Lina. Straight-faced, she accepted it and took a drink. Although it shook her to her core with rage, Lina decided that there will always be certain things “she’s supposed to be doing,” without knowing exactly why.

“We must now find new sustenance other than simply this precious Water, Mother, that will sustain the people of Bry Dellows for many generations to come,” Al Rodnam went on. Animal protein would be best. All we need to do is locate a single animal and I will be able to duplicate it as many times as needed! Then I can engineer a self-sustaining animal farm that our lowly Loombugs can tend to. I was told to do this.”

Magdalena mockingly glanced quickly left and right, then said, “Have you seen any other animals or anything else alive at all since we arrived here, however long ago it was?! Because I sure as hell haven’t!”

When the Mother turned to look directly at the old man, she found that the handkerchief he always wore had become mysteriously unwrapped from his eyes, the two of them staring back at Her bleakly. The Mother shook off the forceful shiver that so suddenly took ahold of her. Then the old man was staring just above her eyes, into her living serpent crown, an animal who also happened to be Magdalena’s best friend. “That’s not entirely true, Lina,” the old man stated simply.

“What—Amrita? You wish to kill my best friend and continue to feed our family with her? How is that even possible? Poor thing!”

 

 

“Don’t be silly, Lina. Of course not. But I have a feeling your good ol’ friend there may Know where to find food. We three alone may not need to eat food all the time in order to keep our bodies and minds functioning, but our tribe will.”

Magdalena immediately ripped down her pet crown of whom she was becoming quite suspicious, held her friend firmly in front of her face, and just glared at the reptile, silently demanding unspoken answers. When Amrita did not respond, the incensed Mother, while still staring at her pet of whom she kept a firm grip, begged aloud of Al Rodnam why he would suggest that Amrita would know where to find food. But when he, too, made no reply, an irritated Magdalena turned to face him, but the old man was no longer there. NEXT: MOTHER MAGDALENA AND HER PET FIND AN ANIMAL!

 

This post has been an excerpt from the previously unpublished sequel to MIKE EYE’S BIZARRE THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION, not yet available!

THANK YOU, GEOFF JOHNS, FOR SAVING THE DC EXTENDED UNIVERSE! WE LOOK FORWARD TO MORE!

 

AQUAMAN CLOSING IN ON ONE BILLION DOLLARS. 

 

Thank All 444 of You For Following Me. -Mike Eye ⊙

“NEW TOOL ALBUM.”

 

 

Twelve Years ago, 10,000 Days was released. It’s been almost half as long.

…since then, we have had just as, if not more-so, epic albums released from the bands who have been filling the all-defeating void left in TOOL‘s absence, in a Universe where Us Tools are continuously “fooled” year-after-year that TOOL will actually be releasing its new record, and then “let down” that they obviously weren’t for “some reason” for so many years now that it’s become far beyond a bad joke for us dumb-dumbs to endure. I’m talking about bands who have released mind-crunching, heavy, epic, innovative records the new TOOL album will now be stood against. Epic albums released since TOOL‘s last album dropped from the likes of ISIS, Mastodon, The Mars Volta, and Animals As Leaders. Will TOOL‘s “new record” stand up to some of the shit we’ve heard from those guys in the last 12 years?? Is there even a new TOOL record at all. (Notice, that wasn’t a question.)

But what’s really gut-wrenchingly exciting is that we know the members of TOOL & Evil Joe B. have had precisely 12 years to work on their new album. Think about it. Do you really think these guys JUST started writing their new album now??! They’ve been writing it for twelve years, you fucks. Yes, they’ve had shit-loads of Distraction. But 12 is the magic number, and “supposedly” TOOL‘s new album is actually set to come out this year (2018). Is it really true this time? Dare Eye I even ask?!

I know my readers have an opinion on this, and I challenge You All to Speak it! And, we all know A Perfect Circle & Puscifer are really sick bands as well, but PLEASE leave them out of TOOL discussions. Thank You. –MIKE EYE

 

 

Awakening In Agartha

 

 

Chapter 7

Fletcher Munsin’s eyes flew open, and he just laid there on his back from within the metal machine in a state of confused shock, his swirling blurred vision slowly straightening out around the breadth of his Awakening intro-spectacles. The transparent cover of the machine he was in had been left off, and when the man— now Birthing at the pre-fixed ripe age of 33— gained consciousness he shakily began lifting his upper body arise, altogether experiencing for the first time an intense sense of familiarity, shame, and fear as he did so. Those feelings would stay with him endearingly throughout his lifetime. He somehow instinctively knew to then proceed removing the thick tubes jutting out of his back at each chakra point that were attached to the inside of the machine, ripping them out one-by-one from the base upwards, as he Birthed out a new Body that was part-Human, part-Sirian, and part-Divine: the Holy manifest Shadow of Al Rodnam Delivered into live physical form.

Other than Dark autonomous emotions, Fletcher Munsin possessed no memory or recognition of much of anything besides the Knowledge of the English language. He was partly shaken the moment he recognized the super-energized Solar Logos circuits emanating fiercely in pulses from a small slightly yellowish-glowing tree branch that was sitting on a flat surface beside the metal machine. He steadily arose, shaking slightly, taking his time to reach for the little glowing tree branch, knowing intuitively the size of its worth as he could feel its energy amplify more and more intensely with his approach.

He stumbled seven times but soon had the sacred Wood in his right fist and could feel it surging with beaming Super-Solar Wyrd Power. He had just been born but he could already make the mental connection between words and solar energy, and this Wood in his grasp was emanating the perfect union of the two. A wide self-assured grin spread across the handsome face of Fletcher Munsin as he felt the power of this energy humming from its core, recognizing a Language he felt impossibly used to, and he Knew it was because he had somehow Spoken these same Words before. Not aloud, of course, for Fletcher Munsin, for all his grasp on the grammar and phonetics of the English language, seldom Spoke a Word; almost everyone he’s ever known thinks he’s a Mute. It was and will be the same for each of his Incarnations and multiplicities.

Befittingly, it was immediately subsequent to this revelation that Fletcher Munsin noticed the twinkling words floating in a holographic display above the nearby main console of the bunker’s central computer. He stumbled over to them and began reading the floating message with a swelling curiosity:

 

My Child,

My name is Al Rodnam. I both, created you, and are you, at the same time. Call me Father if you like, but that is not what I am to You. My Higher nature encompasses many humanoid Sirian-hybrid beings across many galaxies. You are One of them. The Stargate in front of you leads to One of the Sirius Sectors, and your body is biologically capable of passing through it successfully. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, if you choose, but, beyond the metal door behind you lies a magical, mystical wonderland of true beauty and bliss. It is Agartha, the Inner-Urth, and it is filled with jungles having tropics that couldn’t exist upon its counterpart land: Surface-Urth, the world Above, that is really Below.

 

Reflectively, those Above call this Inner-Urth the Underworld. It is filled with many marvelous mythical creatures of lore, all of which are real and most of which are amiable. But none of which are like You. Human. Except One other that ventures down to this Kingdom from time-to-time with a mysterious High serpent creature, to the magical Pond of Breña, the actual, real Fountain of Youth. She will persuade You to go with her to Surface-Urth, but You must not go with her. If You do, She and Her brethren will fool you into a sick game, torture You, and eventually, Kill You. You must trust me, for You are me.

 

One last thing. I must tell You that I am truly sorry I wasn’t there for your Awakening, and am even more sorry that I won’t be able to join You for several years, unless of course You choose to go up to Surface-Urth with the Lady Magdalena, of which you must not do, in which case, you and I are likely never to meet Face-to-Face. I know you’ll take care of us. ˜Signed, Al Rodnam of Sirius and Urth.

 

It took several long minutes for the gravity of the message’s contents to settle down upon Fletcher Munsin. Unbeknownst to him, for each minute he contemplated, indeed for every minute that went by on Inner-Earth, about a week and a half will have passed up on Surface-Earth; Fletcher Munsin would remain unaware that the passage and keeping of time on Agartha took a far slower pace than its inside-out counterpart.

It made no sense to him. He felt angry and addled. Despite his pre-loaded age and Knowledge, Fletcher Munsin was just as naïve about undergoing the Birthing process and its aftermath as any baby being born might be, yet equipped with Insight, and it was overwhelmingly impossible for him to understand what the Hell was really going on, in and around him. Still, just minutes into his new life, the man already had enough wit to ask himself: is this how all humans were born? To wake up cold and alone, plugged to a metal machine in a small place, with all kinds of unrecognizable computer processing equipment strewn about? Do all humans look like me? Are there others similar to me Awakening in the same fashion? If so, how many? Thousands of questions wracked his mind all at Once at an impossible velocity.

But then Fletcher Munsin set his thinking very pensively on his Identity. This “Al Rodnam” had written that he— indeed both he and himself— were Human and Sirian, whatever that meant exactly. His head turned and glared at the massive rune-inscribed stone ring Stargate at the head of the room. A Stargate to Sirius, supposedly. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, the message had read. And I’m supposed to do it alone without any guidance? the man responded to himself silently in resentment and awe. The message said I would have to wait years for you to show yourself. How long is a year? he wondered cluelessly, indeed not having lived yet an hour. Of course, he knew the answer to that question technically speaking— he just had no idea what it meant. Although feeling frightened and insulted that his alleged creator wasn’t there to greet him into the world, and supposedly wouldn’t show for some time, however long of a time it might be, Fletcher Munsin’s body bubbled up with immense excitement as he envisioned what it might be like to travel to his place of origin and discover who he really was.

But Fletcher Munsin also thought of where he currently was. Wow. A happy, magical place, supposedly, just beyond his here birth chamber. Jungles filled with all sorts of exotic creatures. With a Fountain of Youth somewhere— that intrigued him, though he remained young himself. He was also curious about who this Lady Magdalena was. How is it that this alleged creator of mine, this Al Rodnam, claims to know my future? he wondered. Is he me from the future? No— the message had said Al Rodnam had a “higher nature.” But that he was also me. Hmm… The man remained puzzled and frustrated as he tried to process everything that was happening to him. Emotions were strung high, and it Hurt.

As he was considering many different things at once, the man caught sight of what appeared to be a roll of fuzzy grey robes, neatly folded over the arm of a leather couch close-by. He went to retrieve them, and though he grasped the robes in his hands, he could not make out the material. Instinctively, Fletcher Munsin slipped them about his naked frame regardless, tying them together with an attached cord. He noticed right away how mega-soft the robes were and he smiled the first smile of pure contentment in his Life. He also noticed what he wouldn’t recognize to be a pocket knife inside one of the inner-pockets.

Then he glanced back at the Gate. Despite how immensely he wanted to travel to his home space sector and investigate his origins, the wondrous appeal of the magical Inner-Earth and its friendly inhabitants dominated his immediate curiosity. I suppose I can always return to this Gated shelter in the future after I’m done exploring the jungles out there, he thought to himself. All I would need to do is mark my passage in the trees along the way somehow, and if good fortune follows me I should be able to find my way back.

So, after retrieving the glowing branch as well as a small hollow gourd laced with a raw-hide strap that had a “Drink Me” label on it, Fletcher Munsin inched his way to the back of the room and up a small flight of stairs, coming to stand still in front of a massive dully-glinting metal door with a retractable top and hefty chain-link threads on either side. On the reinforced wall to the right of the door was a small slightly glowing blue circle in the center of a rectangular pad. Fletcher Munsin reached for the panel and felt around, eventually coming to place one of his fingers directly over the center of the darkly-gleaming blue circle. As he did so, his chest jumped at the sound of a high echoey pop from the ceiling above where he stood, and as he moved his head upward, so went the door, clanking loudly along a treaded frame as it rose upward. The man stepped back, shielding his eyes with his arm at the piercing gleam that shot in through the door from without, the light reacting fiercely with the peculiar twig of magic Wood that lay pocketed within his robes. The light brought a pleasant, dry warmth into the bunker, and Fletcher Munsin, with his arm still over his eyes, eagerly stepped lightly out the door into the rays of a Central Sun, Amrita’s Sun: Alcyone of the Pleides, High Radiant Essence of Solaria and Her Solar Logos.

Fletcher Munsin had made the correct decision to explore this realm first. He convinced himself as much right away if but only because of how amazingly fresh, cool, and clear the air tasted to him. How clean and crisp, he marveled. The intense gleam of the Central Sun he had seen pour into the Stargate Bunker as he stood inside it had totally diminished now that he was outside in it, and his new vision saw a vibrant foreign wilderness on a clear day, with an unbothersome high visibility. He seemed to be getting High off the air, which started to swirl with hues of assorted rainbow shades at varying points of space he saw spread out in the immediate vicinity. The manifest oxymoron himself, this newborn-man, was beholding his first breathtaking panorama of pure “garden-family” ecstasy. He saw nature working perfectly and acquired a perspective of appreciation for the beauty of that nature as he viewed strong diverse signs of it everywhere before him.

 

 

The foreground and background both were splattered with every shade of green that existed in the light spectrum, and more, glittering with tinsel-flashes of Sunlight reflection off the epic trees everywhere, whose layers of green blanketed the high tops of the forest canopy in a lush wash of comfort and cool breezes. Monster tree stumps ten-feet wide ripped out of the Earth everywhere Fletcher Munsin could see, and extended upward hundreds of feet. Many different kinds of small animals were hobbling and fluttering and twinkling all around him, and he could feel each one’s energy signatures as different songs being sung to the trees and animals all around them.

He kept on an aimless amble, sure to tie strips of his robes to branches with the pocketknife, and soon came upon a couple of creatures who started singing their songs to him. They appeared to him at first to be two small grazing white ponies, but realized as he got nearer that they were something more. He reached out telepathically, as is his nature, and felt traces of true love serum in the air, having not a clue as to what love serum was or the destructive forces it held. The little creatures were inquisitive and welcoming, remaining still and calm in relaxed positions, fidgeting periodically to enthusiastically lick their furry tails.
“Greetings,” one of them sung telepathically to the man as he approached the two. Its nose was snow-white like its fur, small and wrinkly as it inquired behind two innocent eyes that were set between a long swirly horn projecting from its forehead. “May I ask? What are you?”

Fletcher Munsin felt layers of kind warmth exude off these two unicorns he was engaging, also feeling euphoric as he did so. “I don’t precisely know yet; I’m still trying to figure that out. I was just born, you see?”

“Oh, so you’re a creature of magic as well, are you? You are welcome here around us. We sense no demonic nature in your aura.”

Even though Fletcher Munsin instinctively felt he wasn’t evil, it was reassuring to hear the little unicorn telepathically project that impression to him. “Thank You,” he replied with a nod. “You see, I’m searching for something. Would either of you two happen to know the whereabouts of this Fountain of Youth I’ve heard about? Is it real?”

The two cute little grazing unicorns turned to each other and laughed. “Yah, it’s real,” one of them said, “but dangerous. Shadow beings from dark realms occasionally break our natural barriers here and steal vials of the sacred waters of Breña. But us, we purely organic faerie creatures of this realm don’t need rejuvenation from Breña; we, having been returned to Agartha and sealed off from the surface word, have regained a near-immortality status. Yet we remain trapped here.”

“Trapped here?” Fletcher Munsin was confused.

“Yes,” the unicorn replied telepathically. “Many of us from this Land Know about how magnificent the Surface-Earth is, and everything it has to offer. We have seen it with our very eyes Once before, if but briefly. I and my friends, we are adventurers seeking to return to and travel across the Land Above.”

Intrigued, the man mentioned nothing of his order specifically not to do just that, and said “Oh, really? And what does this Surface-Earth have to offer?”

“It has to offer us stewardship, and a chance to redeem ourselves through conscientious karma-cleaning. The world down here may appear stupendous, and in many ways it is, but it also harbors much boredom to us. Besides, we hear that when unicorns lived across Surface-Earth, they had wings and were able to fly. That is what intrigues us the most, for we believe we have a lost heritage to investigate.”

Having only just started to See the diversity sheerly of all the different animals around him here and now, and how they coexisted harmoniously in an Ecosystem throughout the vastness of Land that was sure to extend wide and far, Fletcher Munsin had a difficult time understanding how different worlds could have their own types of appeal and high fascination, having just, himself, started to become fascinated with this One world. Despite the warning from his alleged creator, Surface-Earth was another place other than the worlds in Sirius that Fletcher Munsin wanted to explore, and now he was even more excited about being alive, although he would have to consider everything he did very carefully, of course.

The two glanced at him inquiringly as the man said “Wouldn’t a winged Unicorn be a Pegasus?”

The unicorn was quick to reply. “No— that’s a different species; Pegasi don’t necessarily have horns.”

“Really?” Now the man was engaged. “So, the horn-element of your makeup is very species-driven, is it?”

“Yes, driven by the horn itself.”

Fletcher Munsin, not yet wise enough to chuckle at this statement, was curious about his new companions’ horns very much in fact, and what they could do, but decided to answer their original question before things got out of hand. “Well, I’m from Sirius. But I’ve never been there.”

The two unicorns again turned to each other before one asked, “How can you be from a place you’ve never been to?”

“My thoughts exactly! I was hoping to travel there, but I wanted to explore this land first— it feels so wonderful just to walk around and breathe the air in here. So, you’re able to direct me to this rejuvenating so-called Breña?”

The Unicorns scoffed. “Oh, you seek vitality from the sacred waters, do you, child?”

“I… I’m not sure,” stated Fletcher Munsin. Having just been born, he hadn’t yet thought about death. Or that death was even possible. He wasn’t sure if he would need extra stores of vitality to stay alive.

“We tell you again, friend, it’s dangerous to go there…” The unicorn beside the one giving this warning remained silent and seemed less friendly all of a sudden, and suspicious of Fletcher Munsin. The one speaking went on. “But, if you feel you must go there, cross this here field and walk toward those gigantic boulders in the distance.” The unicorn pointed the direction with its twirly, spiky horn. The Sky had only a few fair-weather clouds in it and was mostly clear, the field of tall-grasses the creature was referring to mostly shady from the thick canopy above and forest walls around it. “Behind them,” it went on, “are several trailheads marked each with a colored sign. Choose the Red one and head down that trail for about two miles. Examine the edges of the trail closely as you go, child, and you will come to a small glyph-littered stone sculpture of a Phoenix that you can communicate with. Become One with the Stone and it will lead you to the Pond from there.”

“Thanks so much!” exclaimed Fletcher Munsin, and reached down to pet the two animals. He bid them adieu and began heading toward the big boulders yonder, a high strut in his step. He came, by and by, to many labeled paths behind them, chose the Red One, and started down it, trusting in what the two flightless unicorns —or were they de-winged Pegasi?— had told him.

Fletcher Munsin continued down the wide dirt-road path with bells on, soon noticing it start to reactively glitter with shimmering pixie dust at intermittent intervals. Glints of yellowy twinkles started to conjoin along his way, hovering above a path that seemed to have been perfectly paved on its own, the forest floor in pristine condition even though he continued to see different floor-bound animals involved in their own activities everywhere, scurrying this way and scuttling that, their tracks magically erasing behind them. There were many airborn creatures as well. A group of tiny sparkling fairies led by two large birds, one red, one yellow, was approaching him now. He felt neutral energy from them and simply smiled as they passed along on their way.

The man, most excited now, and ever in a euphoric state of mind, continued rambling along his peaceful way down the forest trail with no trouble. Not that he was expecting any trouble, for Fletcher Munsin had yet to get into it. He didn’t yet know trouble. He continued cutting small strips of fabric from his robes and tying them tightly around branches of the trees he passed, picking his way for hours along the same path, having no idea how long two miles was, eagerly seeking out the stone sculpture that was said to be somewhere to the side of the trail.

When he eventually spied it out, he paused momentarily to absorb the vitalizing, message-giving energy from the stone totem, which was magnificent and informative. He was told to continue due East for about two miles through the unmarked thick of wild territory. He did so without any difficulty, still tying bits of his robes around the scenery he passed, and eventually spotted the clearing he was searching for.

As he got closer he could hear that someone was moving in the water. He paused with excitement behind the silver trunk of a red-leafed tree, staying a safe distance away, looking on.

What he saw there and then will change his life forever. And he would never know that his first sights of a human woman were of the most beautiful woman that ever existed. Her skin was a glowing pitch-black, her limbs ever so slender. She had lively tribal tattoos of many colors all over her body that glowed soft hues of dark bioluminescence, and two huge large stones inside the lobes of each ear. Even while mostly submerged in the mystical pond, which was slowly giving off subtle glints of blue shimmers, Fletcher Munsin could tell that this woman was very tall, as well. Much taller than he was. She was wearing a tiara that looked like a snake, its head reaching out from the woman’s forehead in earnest, and she was bathing herself softly, her arms hugging herself in what appeared to the man to be an unnecessary vain exhibition of her rock-hard body. But, how could that be? he wondered. What could she possibly be getting from it in return? was the question that came to his mind. There’s No One there to suck on this royal eye-candy she’s laying out, no one there to Observe and Receive the sex appeal she’s exuding.

Unless of course there was, and she was aware that someone was watching her.

As soon as Fletcher Munsin had that thought, Magdalena suddenly lifted her head in his direction and he hid as best he could behind the tree he was leaning against, experiencing his first dose of anxiety as he kept quiet, adrenaline starting to secrete inside him, sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Turning his head down on himself as he crouched in hiding, he noticed for the first time what his erection looked like, and he couldn’t understand.

He looked back at the Pond a few seconds later and she was gone. -MIKE EYE

The Legendary Metal Master of Mystery

Hot Summer Days like this One usually remind me of havin’ cookouts and journeying through music-filled festival grounds in an appreciative daze.

Even when the festivals I attended were incredibly upbeat and badass as Ozzfest was during the late ‘90’s and early 2000’s. These Ozzfests were definitely more fun and fulfilling than any other day-long concerts I had been to, and always had a winding, topsy-turvy evil circus side-show-type feel to them, a brutal dose of dropped guitar chugs and maniacal war cries always underlying the spread of expanse setup at each show. The wonderful thing about these festivals was that, even as a young teen, there was usually a feeling that arose in me, upon frolicking the tents and stages of this hearty world-traveled freak-show entourage, that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Except, in reality, I always knew I really was supposed to be there; this wonderworld of revelatory heavy-metal music led by the Prince of Darkness himself was catered to children! How exciting!

It was for me, at least. For example, I always knew that Marilyn Manson was a positive role model for kids because I understood and agreed with him. Not to mention him and his band’s music being a fresh new take and poise on this featured “genre that was dying music,” as Phil Anselmo humbly admonishes, and then proves incorrect as his fans uproariously respond intensely to the suggestion of Heavy Metal dying, in Pantera’s legendary Official Live: 101 Proof, on Heavy Metal Music. Anyway, “Nu Metal,” the so-called sub-genre of Heavy Metal Music that Ozzfest featured bands of, and is what kept this type of music thriving during its time, at least, is dead in its original form, and has been every since Lynn Strait crashed his car with him and his poochie. (See: Get Some) I attended quite a few Ozzfests throughout the years, even though there were a couple of monumental Ones I regrettably missed that featured Tool and Pantera, in all their 1990’s heavy glory.

Thankfully, though, I still managed to receive incredibly enjoyable heavy live music fixes from the likes of Slipknot, System of a Down, Coal Chamber, Static-X, Mudvayne, and Disturbed; during their heavy, startling domination of their heyday, through and to the point when the overall general excitement for seeing these bands live seemed to tragically crash-land like a New York airliner meant for Los Angeles into a deserted field in Iowa. No pun intended.

Out of the wicked intense Summer Ozzfests I attended at Great Woods in Massachusetts, with friends, or just alone, One great experience comes bearing to the forefront of my mind more than any other. It was immediately prior to 9/11. My best bud D. Ratt. and I had third-row seats for the Main Stage acts, of which ultimatley climaxed emotionally with the dark performance of the legendary Black Sabbath, all original members. This was long after their “Last Supper” tour, mind you. (Go figure?)

The third-row seats we had were far stage-left: the spot traditionally reserved for the rock guitarist. This meant that we would be in face-looking range of the epic Tony Iommi! I was really looking forward to what I could depict from his guitar-picking and facial expressions later that night, but I still had the whole day ahead of me, and I typically like to arrive at these things when they open, at 9AM, when, actually in my opinion was usually when most of the really sickest, innovative, heaviest bands of the second stage would go out. At Great Woods, between stages, there’s this high-rise grassy hill that cuts into the air half as high as the treetop line and we would usually go there to smoke joints I had previously labeled with the band’s name that was currently playing in the distance at the time, and then walk right up to see them directly as they came on. It was so chill.

Then The Union Underground came on. They’re like a cross between Powerman 5,000 and Alice in Chains. I was a big fan and I was really looking to feel what these guys could bring live. I actually remember some young audience member dudes standin’ around with over-priced beer cups, who had never heard of these guys, have impressed looks on their faces as they watched them, more than just because they were stoned. I distinctly remembered seeing One hot rocker audience-goer among the crowd clad in black leather who was a bit older than the rest. He was obviously enjoying the set, which included songs about tripping with Jesus and Lucy being in the Sky again. You know it’s a good set when it seems it just started and they’re already chuckin’ drumsticks into the crowd. This was One such performance. D. Ratt., fierce-faced beside me and ready, as I, to embrace the metal, concurred.

“Yo, I’m gonna go take a piss,” I said, and turned for the restrooms with a sense of urgency to arrive there before all other onlookers still dazed from the harsh silent wake of what The Union Underground had left behind it. In a hazy rush on the way to the bathroom to unload a bladder full of beer urine I caught sight again of that older rocker dude who was clad in black leather, noticing his mustache and goatee and neck-length brown hair. “Damn,” I remember distinctly saying to myself, “that guy looks an awful lot like Tony Iommi.

In the pissing trough-man-hideout-well that always acted as water refuge havens at festivals until the water pipes broke, I overheard some drunk dude say to his friend at the adjacent urinal as he was pissin’, “Yo, bro, there’s a crazy Tony Iommi look-a-like out there– his doppelganger! For real, bro, you won’t believe it! Hahaa!” he said with increased drunken emphasis. “Yah right, man,” the other replied, shaking his head and dick at the same time, “I’ve seen his look-a-likes. There’s a lot out there.”

After meeting up with D. Ratt., I consulted him. “Dude,” I said, “I think I just saw Tony Iommi in the crowd earlier, during The Union Underground. He was just by himself, rockin’ out. Like, for real.”

My bud looked at me and said with a huge frown, “during The Union Underground?! Naw, why would Tonny Iommi be alone here in the crowd of The Union Underground in Massachusetts? Just doesn’t make sense. He’s probably tail-gating with Marilyn Manson right now telling tour stories.”

I admitted that, yes, that was a much more likely scenario to occur then him just randomly rocking out at that seemingly arbitrary certain place and time, and it was not discussed again at all between us.

 

That night, just after the last bit of sunlight faded away from ol’ jolly Great Woods and D. Ratt. and I were super-braced for the epic conclusion of Ozzfest ‘01, Black Sabbath went on stage. And, I’ll just say straightaway that I saw, as Tony Iommi, legendary metal master of mystery himself, came out on stage and picked up his guitar and started playing it, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him clad in the very same black leather getup I saw him wearing earlier that day.

“See?! I told you!” I cried to my buddy, “It was him afterall!”

There was not much response from him.

Maybe it wasn’t as surprising to D. Ratt. because he hadn’t actually seen him earlier that day himself. But I did. And, ever since that great, fun hot Summer of 2001, I’ve had a higher sense of reassurance that my instincts hold true, and are accurate, and are sometimes, as in this case, synchronistically spiritual. May the Force of Metal be with You All! -MIKE EYE / darkesoterika.com

“NEW TOOL ALBUM.”

 

 

Twelve Years ago, 10,000 Days was released. It’s been almost half as long.

…since then, we have had just as, if not more-so, epic albums released from the bands who have been filling the all-defeating void left in TOOL‘s absence, in a Universe where Us Tools are continuously “fooled” year-after-year that TOOL will actually be releasing its new record, and then “let down” that they obviously weren’t for “some reason” for so many years now that it’s become far beyond a bad joke for us dumb-dumbs to endure. I’m talking about bands who have released mind-crunching, heavy, epic, innovative records the new TOOL album will now be stood against. Epic albums released since TOOL‘s last album dropped from the likes of ISIS, Mastodon, The Mars Volta, and Animals As Leaders. Will TOOL‘s “new record” stand up to some of the shit we’ve heard from those guys in the last 12 years?? Is there even a new TOOL record at all. (Notice, that wasn’t a question.)

But what’s really gut-wrenchingly exciting is that we know the members of TOOL & Evil Joe B. have had precisely 12 years to work on their new album. Think about it. Do you really think these guys JUST started writing their new album now??! They’ve been writing it for twelve years, you fucks. Yes, they’ve had shit-loads of Distraction. But 12 is the magic number, and “supposedly” TOOL‘s new album is actually set to come out this year (2018). Is it really true this time? Dare Eye I even ask?!

I know my readers have an opinion on this, and I challenge You All to Speak it! And, we all know A Perfect Circle & Puscifer are really sick bands as well, but PLEASE leave them out of TOOL discussions. Thank You. –MIKE EYE