Beer my friends that is the catalyst, time travel is not something to be taken literally, wait no that’s not the terminology I intended I am just saying that our understanding on time travel as postulated by such conceptual analysis’s as Terminator, Back to the future and countless other chronological fantasies is false, time travel is not only a MC square type situation it must be done incrementally and in a mentally acceptable fashion, a Marquis De Sade could not fathom a 1950’s America, and thus could not travel directly from point A to point Z. There are many letters between and as far as decomposition goes traveling back 2,000 years could be a life time pursuit, if we are speaking of linear thinking that is, and we are not. It seems the combination of hops (a distant and somewhat homely cousin to the infinitely more flashy Marijuana) and alcohol can warp time, much as mass can and often does. That is the variable which Renyold C. Macantire discovered, that and a secondary but almost comparable discovery, basing the location of the majority of your personal adventures in the environs of British Columbia will automatically give them a gothic quasi supernatural tinge, a natural twilight zone.
With the mechanics of the tale explained let’s get to the 21st , I mean if you’re going to make a time machine into a car, you mine as well do it with style…and unique ability. Having been a subject of the occult since a zygote it is only appropriate that Mayan prophecy would come to fruition through him. Aching for a DUI Renyold burst out of B.C. and trekking till he found the burrito of his dreams passed the 88 mile barrier transcending time and space and kicking relativity in the ass. Babylon, the whore of cities was the first and natural destination, since we ARE living in a Renyold based universe now, that’s right out of billions of years of slag we have about 5,000 years worth of shit. Whether that’s the chronology of a almighty G-d or just a mile stone when the apes stopped throwing shit at each other, Babylon, the Accadian’s the whole civilization deal was bland, flavorless corn fed and weak not unlike our own democracy and needing the “Rock” in the vitalizing tripartite force of love and peace.
Mark Twain understood that the world was not as it should be in both realities, from a red neck child lording over a full grown ‘negro’ to the opposition to genocide in the Belgian Congo the man had come to understand the world through the deluvian tides of the Missouri, Mississippi and in spirit the Nile, hence the birth of rock.
Rock, what is it to the average man, not much, if you’re not the creative type its nothing but noise, but if you have moved passed the classical composers and need a stronger fix, well that’s when the fevered pitch and tone of rock strums the dendrites of the brain just so, bringing a mix of pain and pleasure, not unlike spicy food, onto a conscious level. A Renyold-less world is one of cultureless progress only he is privy to, the rest of us live in a world saturated with his influence, inventing the term Reinformation:
The word Reinformation was first used in 1454 by the Venetian inventor Reduxious Informentii who saw the transformation of Haga Sophia and believed that information itself was being reinvented. This is of course impossible but it was a fun idea to play with like a mental bauble of questionable reality. Of course a definition for this impossibly constructed word remained elusive. So some believed that Reinformation would fade into histories scholarly depths, those people are called retards, and we have special homes for them. The rest of us knew that Reinformation would once again raise its nebulous and improbable head. As for what Reinformation means, to know it would be to read Webster’s dictionary and “ Get it” , to cry when somebody said “no, let me explain it again” knowing that the original explanation died in its birthing so future explanations could live, to change the term Reinformation into a continually changing Noun, Adverb, Adjective, verb, and dangling modifier. Its very nature, when understood, would be change. To know it is to break the surly bonds of human logic and touch the face of G-d… and then to have your hand crumble to dust as you are unclean and unfit.
Babylon
The world of idolatry? Inappropriate, but me and you would have lived in such a pre Enochian moral squallier for an endless eternity if the champion against original sin hadn’t raised his inebriated head above times colossal force and engaged history in a meaningful physical debate. Why not worship a single G-d of immeasurable power? It’s a fun idea, one a supreme deity could get on board with instead of a mass of intelligent apes viciously fucking each other to death within a few generations of a cataclysmic flood. Noah, not the man for the job, everything coming from him being a McDonald’s of humanity, history needed some jumper cables. In the haze of a Urian summer Renyold saw the ziggurats, the layered cake of human expression smacking G-ds sun in the face like a drunken whore (since whores are natures upstarts) in perfect Hebraic Acadian, which all non-knuckle draggers used, he expressed the idea of a tower, not just any tower but one from which the world could wage war on this G-d of everything.
Well I don’t have to tell you things didn’t turn out well for that generation, but the division of the world along linguistic lines spawned endless and deviant understandings of the world, like a fever dream reality took on new form. His brain splintered into seventy odd parts, the conscious disconnected and forlorn from the whole he turned to the trick of the Alzheimer’s patient and taught himself to sing his mind. Music, the shit that keeps the cosmos in order and the sun burning at an acceptable level, suddenly hit human consciousness like a meteor in the Yucatan. Express ones lust for the world in lyrical terms if all sensible cohesion was lost? Give me one good answer to why we should do that? That’s right, sex and peace had competition because humanity finally knew what it wanted to do with its life. For the first time, having lost touch with their co-humanists, eating rotten fruit didn’t seem like a bad idea. Humans and elephants bonding in inebriation couldn’t last, dexterity couldn’t be in hand AND nose, this G-d fellow wouldn’t stand for it, plus we were chosen and that’s just how things work, plus where else am I supposed to store umbrellas.
The world seemed destined for drink and a pitiful future, a bit better then it was before, but still a weak contender till under the fog of pomegranate wine Renyold rode out in his G-d like conveyance leading to a polygamist orgy, though the man isn’t to blame as the only sane reaction to the impossible is a debouch in the name of the infinite. Having laid the fundamental groundwork of his species slow march, Empire, possibly the most ‘Metal’ of institutions, red in claw and tooth, made its appearance on the scene.
A river is interesting thing, a physical representation of persistence, stranding Plesiosaurs inland and transforming once salt water Octopi into freshwater monstrosities, than why not enslave the minds of humanity to a single whim, a sensible jump, no? Why did it take my Childs life? Was it an undercurrent? A Crocodile? Or perhaps a vengeful unknown deity exercising its might to impress and intimidate us. If the last case is true in addition to the wealth such a waterway imparts, it must be appeased, great powers require sacrifice, let us bend society to its diluvian will of flood and famine. Anything fucked into existence is cheap in the absence of sentimentality, while vast waters and high places connect to our primal natures, pyramids in the sand and hanging gardens in the desert, the will of the world had been superseded with fragile civilization aping its might, a tipping point that a drunk and half blind Renyold drove into.
