This is Pigment 532, or Sun Ra Yellow, the characteristic colour of Thelemic painting philosophy. It is the colour of the sun when seen through a blanket of ayahuasca mixed with cannabis tea and a shot of absinthe. It is principally found on a railway bridge in Harbourland, Kent, just off the North Downs Way, but can also be found in smaller quantities in similar locations throughout the island. Pigment 532 disguises itself as a lichen, but those of us who have read Alistair Crowley’s Book of Colour Law will recognise the characteristic striation of the external ring of the yellow bloom. Due to the power, potency, and rarity of Pigment 532, it is not permitted for any one person to take more than 5 scrapes (equal to 1 gram) of the pigment at any time. I did not take any as I am crap at painting, but if you were
This hub of activity is called the Crack of the Beech. It’s an on-tree marketplace of ideas where the insects of Charing go to plan for all the futures they can imagine. If you try to imagine one of those futures, that will make one more they have to plan for, so try to make it an interesting, insect-friendly one, okay? Anyway, the Crack of the Beech. To be honest, I was quite surprised by how busy it was, which shows the kinds of prejudices I have about insect life. I moved that stick because why not? I was just a stick! (My apologies to Stick Nation.) Well, why not is because it was actually a ceiling under which a highly important insect meeting was occurring. That big fat beige louse is a security guard called Tom; if you look closely, you can see he’s shaking a tiny little fist at me.
I saw this here toilet in this here field as I was walking the North Downs Way near Harrietsham in Kent. As I paused with amusement at the complete lack of utility of a wild loo with no modesty screen or plumbing, four lads on quad bikes pulled up. ‘Say’, one said, ‘aren’t you the person who writes 10,000 Delights?’ I must say that it was exciting to be recognised so, and it is to them I owe this cautionary tale. Thanks be to Stevie, Ralph, Benson, and Peter. You may be surprised to know that this isn’t a lavatory in the conventional sense. It is located at the far north western corner of an autonomous district called Rodorburg, which is adjacent to Harrietsham. Rodorburg has long since emancipated itself from both local and national government who eye it with suspicion, but have thus far not sought to suppress it, namely
Raymond sighed. He’s been here quite a long time, you know, so he’s earned a little sigh every now and then. He’s looking at the stick and wondering what you expect him to do with it? His magic-making days are long since over; it’s only him keeping the structure together – can’t you see that? If he bent down to pick up the offering, what do you think would happen next? A bang-squash-crack, that’s what. And then what would you people do then? No amount of iron fencing will make up for that mess. It didn’t use to be just Raymond, you know. There used to be a lot more of them and, in those days, it wasn’t just Raymond doing all the hard work at Kit’s Coty House. In those days, uprightness was shared amongst a lot of the stones. Old Maisie to the left, well she’s long since checked
He’s lost his feather, but I am sure you can tell that this is Prince Doily I. Just in case you were wondering, he’s originally from Rajasthan, but I found him on a stretch of the North Downs Way near Borstal in Kent. He’s only recently escaped from a locked drawer where he’s been kept prisoner for a century. Prince Doily I said we can call him Pridi for short, because it sounds a bit like ‘pretty’, which he most surely is. Pridi smiles when you say stuff like that to him, because he’s well into manners and enjoys a good fluff of his ego every now and then. Floral language is one of his specialities: he learnt the intricacies of it during a secondment to an illustrious Iranian court six hundred years ago. Pridi said he was glad to have met me and particularly commended me for my maxim: ‘manners