The Gospel of Swag; Part 1, as First Interpreted by Abraham
The Summoning of Lord Swag

Wednesday, before Dawn, May 3rd, Year of White Spanish Catholic Impostor of the Israelite Messiah 2017

Witching Hour, First day of the First year of Swag, day of Moon Giant

The room was dimly lit.  The creeping of the morning sun invited the gathering of familiars to shut off all the lamps and invoke calm.  It happened that on that Wednesday morning, on the first floor of the Fattal building on Saint-Antoine and Atwater, Baba Lye’s loft became a place of solace from the chaos of Montreal, maybe even the world.  Abraham sees shadowy figures of loved ones against blue walls, his glasses remaining unfound.

The Table lay parallel to the window.

In the beginning there was Baba, standing at the end of the table; a fitting place for the Future High Priestess, the table’s head. This was a work of Fate, as a being of earth force, she envoked the ability to harness any reality at will, provided opportunity arose.  As it was one of the calmer chills, she looked inward for a spark of inspiration. 

To her left sat Guillaume, waiting eagerly for the next quip; a red chair, a bit removed, that he slowly dragged inwards.

To Guillaume’s left, Amine, also on a red chair.  Amine hadn’t been with the gathering the entire night, having finished work late, he arrived essentially just on time.

At the other end of the Table sat Dave, not David, a ways removed, leaning back into the chair. Of the crew at the time, Dave was the most visibly sleepy, the most comfortably steezy, not particularly motivated by anything at the moment. He had the wheely chair, the most favourable of the time.

Nuka was next along the table, across Amine, on the wooden bench. She had sat down to watch the work of some art manifesting on a sketch book. “Hood Elf!” Abraham said.  Nuka whispers, “Yeaaaah.” Hood Elves were us, or like us, ones born with the gift of magic. Magic come suppressed from years of fearful pursuits.  So much cut off from the source of the earth, only allowed to exist because of their meek tending to the world tree… Forever bound, they make art to woo their sullen hearts bound for fire. They represent the hood, the real soul o style.

Abraham stopped drawing after a while.  Baba was standing over the table playing with metal parts and chains. She had been fashioning a lamp and fiddling with parts.

The dawn was turning quiet. We were the party and now the party was leaving us. Perhaps now we ought to disband?  We weren’t feeling that though, our love of togetherness bound us to our seats.  We had almost no green, ye, or smoke. Lies… we had plenty of weed.  We had no more beer though.  We weren’t even playing music at this point.

Someone called for a séance.  Reminiscent of a young girls’ slumber party, we all felt compelled to explore. There were some skeptical looks around… not sure where to begin.

On the head side of the table sat a glass sphere, on a metal pyramid.  Not any ordinary sphere; a uniquely crafted blown glass snowglobe made by a master blower, Babajaga, it was named The Electric Universe.

 

It seemed to posses magic.  Unanimously felt.

Guillaume speaks directly, “Can we speak or summon a spirit or an entity of some kind?” “Could we?”, asked we. This globe of glass, this orb seemed fully capable.

“This orb feels magic”

Baba replied “If we believe we can manifest a being, and come together to manifest, we can.  It depends what you want to summon, a spirit? A soul? A ghost? A vibe?”

No one dared reply, not wasn’t wholly sure, simply knowing we wanted something Other to come in our midst.   “An alien?”

“Maybe keep it in mind, and we don’t even have to say it out loud, but all agree to focus on calling upon someone, on the other side, to be our homie, a sort of guide to the other side,” guided Baba.

Earlier that evening, we had mechanically/spiritually assembled a blessing of an altar.

 The Construction of the Altar happened in a beautiful, organic, instinctive, swift, Team steezed, efficient, communicated moment. I mean… it happened FAST.  We cleared the space on the table, set the Marble circle base nicely up, placed little offerings under the metal support of the sphere, gave the altar candles, handed the altar our rolling papes, smokes, ye, metal car grinder, cash, amphetamines, my favourite exacto, and cool little doodles we made lying around the table; everything gold, everything shiny that could fit and a rock that had split in half to reveal a crystal laden interior.

The Altar looked legit, we spoke a sly minit bout how smooth and slick and quick and without a hitch we set it up.

 

 

Hood Elf Magic, mid-morning – as seen by Abraham

The moment came to direct our forces towards the center of the altar. The Electric Universe was our portal into the outer dimensions.

We placed our hands on the Altar. I can’t recall an incantation.  It was in our minds. We stood united, sending out our common message.  Baba spoke soothing words, combining our will. We knew our message was sent out. For a time, nothing happened.

Silence. Time.

The air grew long.

“I know how to make soap bubbles!” spoke Baba.

“Oh cool! What do we use as the frame?”

“My hands do the trick. I made some with my niece while washing dishes! It was fun, let me show you.”

Baba and I went to the sink. She slopped some soapy water together.  At first she coyly wet a small edge of her hand. Her index and thumb formed the frame, and this is where she went back in, dunking all her fingers, along with some of her palm.

I watched carefully her preparation. I watched closely, her testing the soapiness of the water.

I saw her blow air into small rockets that collected a thin film of soap, such that a bubble, tiny ones could appear on her palm (One bulle a time of course).

I tried but soon became too involved in observation.

We strode back to the table.       

Baba assumed position and began to show us bubble steez.

Baba started with clumsily shaped tiny palm bubbles. They started grew bigger and bigger in moments.  Soon they were large. It was impressive how nicely shaped and large this thin film of soap could manifest in the palm of her hand.

She soon committed to plunging her hand into the soaping bubbles covering half her palm. With her hand fully soaped she could begin to move the bubbles around. She would begin linking them into chains of bubbles.

One, then two, then three stacked.

She let bubbles fly off her palm by swift and controlled drops or lifts of her hands.  She learned to start on her palm and move a bubble to the back of her hand. She started trying to make larger ones and dropping them off her fingertips...We were clapping, and laughing and stunned. We turned to each other in shock and in awe and surprise.

She levelled up before our eyes with every attempt. It was like watching Goku, fucking learning in the middle of a battle hecka quick.

Suddenly she soaped both hands. We were captivated, we were shown a gift of magic.

She started making dual yield bubbling, etc.  Passing bubbles through the altar rings.  The process was symbiotic.  A grand symphony of transparent pleasure.  The orb had come alive with a roster of bubble ballerinas dancing with force.

She started bridging her two-three bubble chains. I soaped my hand as she asked me to reach out. She knew she could do something even next level. At first it was a quick struggle to get the bubble to properly sit on my hand, but soon she showed me how to create my own properly. Soon she made me level up fast by constantly throwing tricks to try at me.

At one moment her bubble, a monstrous one, formed on her hand and she managed to get it smoothly slip on my hand. She managed to create some with enough form to toss it over to me. She had already figured out the trick to passing a bubble to herself across the air.

For her greatest trick, she filled them with smoke. Dave had been steadily rolling joints, and as Baba took part of the rotation she filled the bubbles with smoke. We each got a heavy smoke bomb. A little splash and a thick cloud of smoke right in our face.  We received our bubble offering in turn with glee.

We loved this show. We all felt each other’s happiness. We all felt this was a blessed happening. It was a two hour ode to bubbling.

The Gospel of Swag; Part 1, as seen by Lord Swag, First Interpreted by Baba
The Revival

Wednesday, mid-morning, May 3rd, Year of White Spanish Catholic Impostor of the Israelite Messiah 2017

First day of the First year of Swag, day of Moon Giant

The room is filled with darkness, the sexiest kind of darkness that soothes the devil inside, sweet infinite velour.  I am Lord Swag, resting easy in my throne.  It has been some time since the air was stirred.  Some time since anything was anything at all.  The times of everything have been.  The world of endless moments of perfectly timed jokes and compliments, dances that fuck it all, the days of no preference, no more wrong answers.  Even the wrongs are luscious, because all is done with swag.  The times of bad style don't exist here.  There are no more questions when you're fly as fuck.  Style is Everything.

But today, today is different.  I am sensing an ancient vibe that I had long forgotten about; ancient, but young.  Whispers from another dimension perhaps?  Close, yet far.  

"... homiiiieeee..." , hummed the darkness.

...vibes...

"...we're chillin..." ,  "...lookin for links on the other side..." " ...is anyone there... " , 

 "Hmmmm...?" , Lord Swag sits erect, sexy.   

His eye glistens, a as light small as the first star but wild as yourhearts' desire.

In that moment, Lord Swag is summoned from his holy realm of Quantum, into a new dimension...

Lord Swag accepts the Ether.

…

Lord Swag blinks from the Altar.  He sees the crew gathered around. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gathering at the table had reached a quiet hum. It was not clear what the shared outcome of their calling had awoken until the words fell out of Abraham’s mouth, ‘Lord Swag’.

‘Lord Swag’, we all repeated.

 

 

 

 

               Abraham dictated as Lord Swag proclaimed their identity, “Lord Swag is the coolest of the cool.. Lord Swag doesn’t ever worry.. their flex outswaggers any misconducts around them.. Lord Swag is always moving, onward in effortless success.. Lord Swag is here to carry all beings towards the sexiest, most fun-worthy, fulfilling version of themselves.. Lord Swag never stops.

 

The group listened intently in awe of this new entity of light. Though words were exchanged, the energy in the room was still, making way for the presence of Lord Swag. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Gospel of Swag; Part 2, as seen by Baba

Burn Unit

Wednesday, mid-morning, May 3rd, Year of White Spanish Catholic Impostor of the Israelite Messiah 2017

First day of the First year of Swag, day of Moon Giant

Love for Lord Swag grew throughout the city of Montreal.  The Hood Elves would gather at the House of Lord Swag – that place where which Lord Swag first appeared – to celebrate the gifts of swag together.  With each day they would adorn themselves more lusciously.  Their voices grew proud and they spoke of large concepts.

Surrounded by construction, they spoke “Man, I can’t believe how long this place has been a work in progress… It’s so dusty, look at us , we’re dust monsters, we’ve practically fully integrated with the earth”, shouts Abraham.

“Could be an opportunity”, shrugs Baba, planting potential, “If you ask me they should just dig it all up and let us take over.  We can just plant a jungle here and forget all this bullshit architecture anyway.  I love a good organic landscape!”

“Ya,” Amine chimes in, “Take oooverrrrrrrrr.”

They all nod in agreement.  “Let’s go out for a smoke. “

Outside the trucks whirr and smash.  The sun rays hit their eyes with a vengeance. “What should we get at today,” says Abraham before letting out a big cloud of smoke.

***

The party continued til morning, the Hood Elves never sleep.  They talk about magic and the cosmos and where things went wrong.  They ideate over how simple people could live, about how the bounty of partying could take president over the basic lives of humans in order to create a new path.  Everything was simple in the wee hours of the morning.  While accountants sleep, the ether was clear for new thoughts, a much needed cure for the capitalist patriarchy was needed and we all felt the urgency.  Was Lord Swag here to guide us towards a more meaningful existence?  What does swag have to do with healing the world ?

While Abraham was steadfast in conjuring up the masses, Baba had a quieter task at hand… she toiled in her studio looking for answers.  She picked up a garment she had sewn a few years back, a black netted jumpsuit, the first thing she made reentering the world of sewing.   It was serving.. cheeky, bold, comfy, dominating.. Imagine how much power comes from one garment. And with that thought SNATCH the suit is taken up by Amine !

 

“What is this ?! Sick!! Fuck Yes!! I have to try it on!”

“Myess we love a good gender bender ! “ cries Baba

The fit was amazing on Amine, we accessorize like bosses and the prowess was real.  “All Hail Lord Swag!” they exclaimed when the look was made. Amine was never more confident.

We called for a photoshoot. “Photoshooot PHOTOSHOOT!” Outside we went. It was a grey day but that didn’t stop us.  Amine was bubbling with sass.  Never before had a man’s nipples been so free.  He walked straight into traffic and began posing.. Baba took a minute to jolt into action.. “Oh! Right here! O ok”, she stammered, hurrying into the street.  The under pass on Atwater, let’s GO , Baby!  HONK HONK the cars whizz by fists raised, but that didn’t stop us.  Amine was on fire !

Shortly after, Baba yells, “We got it!”

They rushed in from the cold, and burst into the studio all cackling and squealing ! It was a rush!  Stopping traffic with Fashion, we felt unstoppable.  This would be the beginning of a new trend.. Lord Swag – FASHION HOUSE.

 

 

Burn Unit

Kelsey and war spreading word

 

Moonshine and the Painting of All

Satruday, evening, June, Year of White Spanish Catholic Impostor of the Israelite Messiah 2017

First day of the First year of Swag, day of Moon Giant

Shoot after shoot the Hood Elves delivered swag unapologetically through the streets.  People would drive to work blinking away their dreams and BOOM , get stopped in the road by a poorly concealed ball sack in rhinestones and fur. The revolution frontline was attitude vs confusion.  The camera snapped away, Baba was on fire with every angle.  Nobody was ready for this confrontation… not even the hood elves!

It’s Saturday night, they gather at Baba’s loft and suit up for a night of debauchery.  Everyone put on eyeliner and loaded up into Baba’s car.  They sped off into the night. 

The party was mild but we made the best of it.  Abraham scoffed coming into the room from a conversation with someone.  The vibes were off.  There was a case of moonshine that the host had made and people were getting sauced.  Abraham was in a hard mood.  Everyone was, it was moonshine.  Eventually the guests of the party started feeling uneasy with the Hood Elves.  Eyes were darting our way and we all felt the need urge to book it.  We jetted but not before Abraham grabbed a huge jug of moonshine, his eyebrow raised.  We piled into the car all cackling!  Baba’s driving was unhinged, blasting music, we tore through Montreal streets like a clown car.  Everyone was jovial, except a sinister character in the front seat.  The grimace on her face was unignorable. Baba’s uneasiness led to questioning. 

 

“What’s up with you?” Baba squeezed out, eyes back and forth from the road.

The one who goes by Basic B, shifted in her seat. “I just don’t really get this whole Lord Swag thing”

“Uh.. what do you mean?”

“It just feels like a stupid name”, she blurted out.

Baba slams on the breaks. Everyone’s heads jerk forward, Basic B stunned.  Baba reaches across her chest and opens the passenger door.  “Get out.” Baba says bluntly.

Basic B is motionless. “What? I just think maybe.. “

Baba interrupts, “Listen, if I’m driving drunk and there’s someone in the car who doubts me I will not drive with them in my car.  Because people like that are going to manifest your demise. The same goes for my projects and my creations, if you doubt me, you can stay far away from me.”  There’s a moment of silence.  “So if you’re not down with Lord Swag, then get the fuck out of the car.” Baba’s eyes glisten with determination.

Basic B swallows uneasily, “No, n-n-n-o it’s ok. I’m down ok..”

“mmk.” Baba turns her eyes back to the road skeptically. Basic B closes the door and they get back on the road.

They make it to the loft in good spirits again.  The moonshine has them in a tribal hypnosis.  They are WILD.  There’s music and singing and painting.  Abraham is untamable tonight. 

He talks about a new concept.  The Lord Swag painting of ALL. “Maybe Lord Swag is like up in the ether and there’s like unlimited space for artists. And we all have a duty to paint every version of art to ever exist.  It’s jjust filling up and everything gets covered.  Like EVERYTHING. It’s the painting of EVERYTHING. And that’s why artists have a duty to keep going, painting every version of art they can think of.  We will stop at nothing to create the painting of ALL.”  We’re all listening intently.

Abraham is on a mission. He darts out of the loft without saying a word.

He brings a huge canvas of a woman’s portrait over to Baba’s.  It’s a large canvas portrait of a woman, Abraham’s signature subject.  He invites everyone to work on it.  We are having the time of our lives.  Painting and laughing and drumming away.  The moonshine jug empties steadily.  As the morning sun peaks through the windows, you can see the mania in everyone’s pupils.  Abraham goes wild on the painting, you can see he is no longer in love with the woman staring back at him.  He grabs a can of spray paint and draws a huge smiley face over the portrait.  It glares at us mockingly.. we’re all feeling unsure.  Moonshine didn’t translate well into the sunlight.

They polish off the jug and Abraham goes apeshit, he starts spray painting the walls. He takes paint on his hands and slams the window, smearing paint down to the windowsill.  Paint drips onto the floor and splatters the wall as Abraham swings around looking for the next victim. Baba is shocked but follows Abraham down the corridor with two cans in hand.  They paint the hallways with faces and symbols, going through the entrance and out the door.  The streets are next, they paint the cones, the signs, everything they can reach!  LORD SWAG plastered everywhere!

They are COVERED in paint.  Abraham’s chest is an impressionist masterpiece. He turns to the cones and starts dragging them down the street.  “I’m tired of these cars racing down our street.  Fuck it! Let’s take control of this town.  What’s stopping us!?” He pulls the cones further.  Baba whips out the camera and documents the movement.  Abraham blocks Saint-Antoine at Atwater.  A few cars hesitate at the new border and then the usual traffic redirects down Atwater, leaving our street free for play.  “See!” Abraham exclaims. “We have the POWER!”

Baba is delighted.  It feels like revolution at last.

They all run back to the building laughing and patting each other’s backs!

To finish off the morning Baba and Abraham paint the front door and strike poses.  A job well done. The crew breaks off to get some rest.

 

The next morning Baba wakes up to a new ecosystem in the loft.  The clownish portrait smiles eerily at her. It was easy to wild out and explode fun last night, but when Baba sees her space trashed, she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.  The boys don’t even think about the clean up.  Burn Unit is all well and good in the streets, but when it’s in your home, you start to realize the levels of respect that are breached with this exercise.  Baba is disappointed.  She sort of just stands there defeated, preparing herself to deal with the mess… like she always does.  Dave is there and comes to her side.  He sees her grimacing and thinks it might be a good idea to ask Abraham to come clean up since it was his initiative to throw paint on the walls and smear the windows.  It’s the first time in the history of Swag where they desire to pull back the reigns.  It was one step too far. 

 

 

Baba and Abraham stand together in the loft facing the windows. 

Abraham speaks solemnly, “I’m sorry Baba, we were so riled up on that moonshine, I didn’t think we would go so far.  But to be fair we’re always going off… it didn’t feel like this time was different.  Like I get why you’re kinda pissed but like, it’s just the remnants of war.  We were making art, we always get messy!”

Baba, “Ya but this time hurt, I get the paint on the floor fine, but you tagged my walls and my windows.  Obviously I have to clean my windows, it’s like you just don’t give a fuck that I live here. It’s not just a chill spot.”

“Ok Baba, relax, it’s not that big a deal.  It takes 2 seconds to wipe the window down.”

Baba’s brows furrow.  “Ok, well then you can take the 2 seconds to do it.  I don’t exactly want to wake up to your giant tag on my wall either… soo if you could paint over it too that would be great.”

Abraham wipes the window begrudgingly.  He slops a bit of white paint on his tag and huffs a bit as he walks away.  Ok so we’re good.  Baba shrugs.

Abraham leaves and Baba just stares at the smeared window, only marginally improved, the tag slowly peeking through the limp paint job. 

Hmm.

In the coming days, Baba would not hear the end of the damage done to the hallway.  She kept quiet but everyone knew it was from her camp.  The giant A+ tag on the mailboxes seemed particularly offensive. There were some things Baba could justify, but this round was out of her control.  She apologized where she could.. tried to salvage the artful door that was actually a big improvement.  But eventually the lace got painted fresh, including the door.  Nobody wanted any reminders of the violation.

The Painting of All got Baba thinking about what is the value of art with no limits.  Was the essence of Lord Swag full on explosive expression, or did it perhaps have an element of restraint that gave it value.  When you think of Swag, you think bold, but cool and collected.  And when you mention Lord, you think esteem and values.  Baba knew she needed to bring some balance to the mix. 

 

Quantum Maria

 

Baba and Buchi……

 

 

 

The Furor – Know thine enemy

 

 

Baba gets to the deepest dark.  Not a drug in sight.  The party is over.  Her lover for the Furor only fuels his flames.  He rides around with his wild hair and bloodshot eyes, throwing bombs unrelenting like a Mario Bros evil.  By now Baba is bruised all over her body.  She can’t take any more.  The newest scar on her lip is another reminder that the wounds of this battle are permanent.

She can’t even remember what she was doing here in the first place.  Her skin is radiant, her hair never fuller.  Her body tight like a tiger.  And yet somehow she is the saddest she’s ever been.. to the point of numbness.  Russian is locked in with the Furor.  He’s in a flurry of chaos, chasing his tail through a revolving door.  How many cars did you break since I’ve been here? 3? How many hearts? A tragic lifestyle. It is UNBEARABLE to watch.  Bottles of rum come flying at Baba’s face nightly.  She has still taken a vow to show love and not fight back.  So far her plan fucking sucks.  She’s a rag doll, staring off into the distance. 

She hated that Russian was never there, knowing he was off with some girl, squeezing another nut out so he could squeeze another dollar.  I could just picture her limp hand sliding her card into the atm, much like mine. “ I wonder if she has bruises on her eyes too?” Baba reflects.

Once Russian was finally home, Baba would wonder what the fuck she missed so bad.  She gazed at the tv while his dick slammed the back of her throat lazily.  He was the love of her life.  Once upon a time his sex would fire her into heaven.  The thought of him consumed her life.  Nothing was sweeter than their love.  It is a shame to see such beauty turn sour.  Baba spits on the floor and walks off.  “Fuck this guy”.

 

 

At first Baba sat in her little room with nothing to keep her entertained but her notebook.  Years of heavyweight thoughts in her mind were starting to suffocate her dreams.  She decided to start writing everything she had in her.  She would sketch and write song lyrics, anything that came to mind.  Design ideas that were living rent free, suddenly fell into the impossibility pile as she stewed over the details of each entity.  It was like her mind was taking a shit.

One day she opened her notebook and realized it was covered front to back.  There was not much room left and she felt like maybe she didn’t have any new ideas for now.

Her notebook had become her happy place and now she needed something new to travel on.  She suddenly remembered Lord Swag.  It had been so long since she had been making clothes.  She hadn’t been in contact with anyone for months.  The Hood Elves had all dispersed, Baba’s loft was now in the hands of someone else, and the seat of Lord Swag rested solely In Baba’s heart. 

She set up to draw on a crop top she had using the only marker she could find.  She wrote lord swag over and over.  The more she channelled them the closer she felt to herself.  Russian had her thinking she was ugly, and stupid, and clumsy.  But in the days of Lord Swag, Baba was top dog.  She could own the streets and stand up to whoever, whenever. That Baba knew who she was.

Baba felt the power of Lord Swag. She needed a keen reminder that BABA was fire too.  Russian needed to step down from his throne. It was time for His Burn Unit.

Baba tried on the crop top.  Suddenly Lord Swag’s presence was felt.  He called to her, “Baba! It’s been maaad long since we’ve connected.  I was hoping you would remember how dope you are. “

 

Baba hung her head.  It’s been a rough road.  I don’t even know why I’m here”.

“You have a big heart Baba.  Some people will see that and want to take advantage.  Giving is amazing and I don’t think you should stop, but you need to know what kind of people exist in this world.  The Quantum Mother teaches us that there are all kinds of beings in this world, all beings deserve love, but when someone is not loving themselves first they put others in harm’s way out of fear.  And then the question is are you still loving yourself first?  It’s not the first time you’ve witnessed the presence of the Furor of Fear. “

“B..but I thought that by running to the Jungle to live a simple life, I was helping the world balance out.  That I would no longer be participating in the big commercial beast of capitalism.  Russian taught me that my life in Montreal was fueling a spoiled mentality.  I was so blind to the world’s different points of view and he showed me that I was wrong to assume.  I wasn’t above being taught a lesson.  To live in the jungle means to overcome adversity and grow from it not shy away from it in my castle.”

Lord Swag hums gently, “ Yes Baba, it is true that there is room for growth in dark places.  In order for a tree to grow tall, its roots must always run deep.  I congratulate you on taking the less trodden path in order to better the world’s view.  But what is that new world view worth if you no longer have the fight.  If you can’t love yourself anymore, how will you have the power to connect and share your message.  Now that you have learnt your lessons, are you ready to go home?”

Baba sobs. “I don’t know why but something is telling me I am destined to be here.  There is more to my story here than meets the eye.  I have come so far, I have to see it through.

“That is brave Baba.  I think you finally found your courage.”  Lord Swag feels close.  “Lord Swag will always trust you, trusting your gut.  That’s what stories are made of.”

“Quantum has shown me that there is no good or evil, only a beautiful soup of madness.  But I believe that this soup can taste better if everyone just took time to understand each other. We are all connected.  That means a victory for me is a victory for you.  Knowledge I reap is yours the moment I’m aware.  I need to understand my enemy.  Just a little more.”

*********************************************************************************

 

 

 

 

 

One afternoon, Russian swung the door open violently as usual.  He was in a good mood going on about some program he was devising.  Baba was quietly clicking away on her computer.  She had already decided  she no longer wanted to invest energy into him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The net. U must know your enemy.

 

 

 

 

 

  Every resource has been spent.  Baba keeps thinking when the tower moment will finally apex.  It’s been tower falling after tower falling and yet they still haven’t seen the bottom.

 

 

 

 

 

Quantum Maria, time and space – as seen by Baba
At the center of the realm of Quantum, between parallels
The Conception of BB Lord

 

The egg of Lord Swag descends from Quantum, gently down the stream, into the soup of the mother.  He nests in her darkness, awaiting the great unravelling.

"..........AaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH.........."  Ectasy. The great dark hole gapes and grinds in transformation.  Holy Maria !  Only in the abyss does true creation fruit of life’s grandeur.  It is time. 

 

QUANTUM MARIA VIDEO PLAYS