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
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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 possess 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
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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
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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.
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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.
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TO BE CONTINUED. . .
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