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Sunday, August 19, 2007
















Magickil Sailing




Much like AVON insisted it would happen, we were all now sailing on one salty sea. With a few exceptions at highland points and from those who had listened to their special sights, investing in long-term pods



and newlyfangled ocean vessels. From our dead reckoning at the zwolfe-hund hour, we determined we were in old calendar 2017. And floating forward in Jahre 05 of our new life.





We passed through the straits of Matterhorn, gasping at now extraordinary fruit trees, basking in sol.




By fortunate circumstance, I had trained myself working hard at regular jobs, all the while oriented towards becoming sensibly seaworthy by AVON’S rigorously intuitive suggestion.







Among the copious foods we subsisted on were pollinated hybrid fronds of which I was unfamiliar with. The vines had found Avon, clinging to her before we even began our perilous journey,


Electrified eels had taken fancy to our boat, along with myriad varieties of hummingbirds, bees and other living entities. One sublime afternoon, our friend Mandy the Narwhal, who had grown telepathically close to us in our marvelous journey, attached her spire to AVON Of The Sea for an Aqua trip invitation. Avon & I helped each other balance across Mandy’s precarious spire, by holding hands until we set upon her slippery back for a quick submersion. Although we had evolved into aqua-practitioners in our five seagoing years together, it was nice to see breathing tubes extended for us, growing out like organic fronds from the Narwhal’s sleek body.




We shared sips of marine-mead and clung fast to each other, as Mandy dove dark deep leagues. She directed us to an underwater cavern in the Nepal region, where in the lower depths of the fissure we discovered a sealed off air pocket. With her sword-nose Mandy pressed the Open Sesame button and directed us to enter.
How nice it was for us again to be walking about freely on terra firma, with this short reprieve from the bobbling boat. We strolled through a torch-lit ancient hall within the underwater hill, until we came upon a twelve-foot golden door. As we approached, it automatically opened, where inside we witnessed a single CD disc levitating in the epicenter of the chamber, projecting all encompassing tales about earthly man-beasts brilliantly slow learning process. The holographic recording ran backwards, encircling such things as the Antikythera mechanism,

And Cheerleaders of Gomorrah.

Avon and I ascended from the belly of the narwhal, returned to the rocking sea and discussed this in depth for about three weeks.

Nighttime, we gazed upward at our other ancestors, honored gently in silver cups of fiery sky. Once I dreamt that AVON allowed me to rest in the calm pillow of her breast. As she spoke a silent cuneiform language, I observed luminescent sparks dance about her sweet tongue to match the sea, in weird and wonderful words, all of which Mother Earth’s animal kingdom fully comprehended in a tenderly loving manner.

This is the highland point at which I began better appreciating powerful Magick sailing realms.

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