Alchemisland

I love this so much. GO STRAIGHT TO BANK STATION, DO NOT PASS GO, ACCRUE MIASMA RESONANCE.

Feels like some lost Burrough’s experiment. TUBE STATIONS OF THE DAMNED cut-ups bleeding into reality. Gum-tattooed shutters of a coffee shop closed by astral vengeance. Unmarked boxes containing old cassettes, orange red flaking like rusty orangutans. The respective sperm and ovum of this particular brand of chaos magick.

Oil-in-puddle cold fusion. Microwave alchemy. On-demand deities conjured in streaming seances. Speedrunning life. Premium tiers. Patreon for Gods dying from lack of attention. One like equals one prayer. unlimited data in a no reception zone as a gnostic allegory for technocracy. Spagyrics for alembicless aeons.

Or maybe it’s a pilgrimage station from J.G. Ballard’s astralOrphic London.