Res gestae operis mei cum imaginibus…

“It began in 2006, I had no mind to it or for it, the ‘forces that be’ chose me for a task. Guitars from beyond. Electric beings of the far away, to come here for purposes only known to them. They seek others to wield their sonic keys.” – CSW

A True and Faithful Relation: Strange discoveries. I was drawn to this place, where dreams and visions dwell. No one summoned me, no one greeted me, everything was alive and working as if I was there the whole time. It was there that I was in for a stay until the task was completed.

As if I never left. Yet I’ve never been here before.

Unlocked. ‘Let myself in’ seems the answer.

Who prepared this?

Might as well get down to business… The device is an empty vessel. That will change. That is why I am here at this place.

New discoveries in old places… old books…

Magnetic electric, electric magnetic, the key is the instrument the instrument is the key.

We begin: “Invoco potestates viarum et transitus! Viator venit, apparatus paratus est! Imbue potentia machinam! Carica eam!”

The second call: “Carica! Carica! Apparatus paratus est! Manus flammans ad altare! Fac ut cor machinae pulset et vivat!”

The third! “Carica! Carica! O manus ardens! Spira vitam in hoc vas et hanc machinam, ut voce sua resonet in omnibus dimensionibus!” Alive!

It is done. The device is charged. Marked with the burning hand, it will call or be called, speak or be spoken to, open the secret doors as desired.

Now to restore the lips and ear, the humbucker. With the right setup the device will be ready. The ‘soul’ of the magick guitar is brought and kept into being by the alter under the bridge pickup. Marked with the burning hand and a powerful spell, it is the ‘magick wand’ to whomever yields it. Ashed and charged, not by the power of this material universe, but others. A collective. Gatekeepers. The key to many locks. Find the progressions of movement. As you play, if so desired, your playing can be enhanced by such a device, to help and to guide, to will or be willed, and if focused properly, no longer just music, but an alien language of travel into the unknown.

All things have been addressed, now I wait… it will be almost a year from now until the stars align, and all things done by all that is customary. I will return home until the time is at hand. Placed in a containment spell within a display cage, the device awaits it’s voice… The machine!

Goings on at The Witching Hour. It is time! 1000 miles away… The stars now aligned, the moment arrives, the machine awaits in the selected destination, in its protected vault. The voice and ear will now have its eye!

It has been waiting for me…

The machine.

Bring it to life! All the power it needs.

Slowly, it awakens, the great eye glows… It awaits the device!

Are they watching? We shall soon see… Just some adjustments…

The fundamental is struck! Now we shall shake the boundaries!

The device is alive and reaching! The acoustic resonance on this room space pushed to the limit! It is speaking for me, it is speaking through me! For a moment we are resonantly one! The voice, the ear, the eye, the power!

The eye is open! The gateway is opened! …Oh shit!

The walls warble from an intense shock and start to break away! The fog pulls into a void! The pull is incredible!

There is now a here and there! The dimension of this known universe has been breached! I can see the other side…

In an instant, I am falling, down and down, through flames and ash and into a bluish luminous flowing liquid that breaks my fall. Somehow, it does not bind to me like water would. I am in it, but dry.

What the hell is this place?

Turning I can see stairs. There is where I must go.

A view to my entrance point, a long way down.

It was waiting for me, visible in the same form of the device that called it. It wants me to bring it to the other side. It wants me to bring the others to the other side. …WTF??

To be continued…

“That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.” – H.P. Lovecraft

“Well that’s great, that’s just fuckin’ great, man. Now what the fuck are we supposed to do? We‘re in some real pretty shit now man…” – Private Hudson