God-Awful: Angst and Anger

By Rote Writer

Misery loves company and the Magus is miserable.

His demise, compromises all those around him or attached to him. He drags them all down by his own death sentence. It’s his alone; yet, but by the sheer weight of his height held in the Order, all below will end beyond mend. His sentence fences in all who stray his way.

He makes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rote Writer Publishing
• Release date: Sep 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781122945738

Rote Writer

Author: Tim Zeigdel, born Timmy McGuire February 14, 1963 was adopted at the age of eight when his name changed. Tim now adopts the penname Rote Writer. He started writing decades ago after a light inspired him to write his life story. Tim, since then, has amassed many memoirs written in story form & journals collected in: The Rote Writer Series.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Justim heads west onboard a Greyhound bus for the umpteenth time. It’s a mode of travel he just loathes.

He arrives in the west coast’s biggest city where he boards a ferry. He doesn’t want to waste any time or cash there. He has an unknown amount in a foreign account.

He heads to the island bearing the same name as the city. He’s been this way many times in the past. Justim’s lost count how many times he’s travelled west only to head north, though not before seizing each return to find closure.

First to find kind with an auburn haired ex-fiancée... an old flame who for some time, minds his memory and weighs on his heart like a crime.

And second to regroup with a Goth like group headed by The Master of the Temple who’s now a manmade Magus.

Justim can remember the titles, tantamount to being paramount and how the Master’s means manner the modes in mentoring his magickal moppets.

Justim, onetime is part of a brainwashed bunch.

Meanwhile, his first ground to be found comes from a London style red telephone booth in the victorious city. He places coins to make a long distance call hoping to find some warmth on the other end of the receiver with his old red flame, his ex-fiancée. He hopes to see if any feelings are felt. None are found by the sound transmitting through the telephone receiver, save for a feigned friendship.

That done he’s now left with an old score to settle, door number two. He boards a bus up mid-island. He arrives unannounced to knock on the Magick Man’s manor, much imagined now as a mausoleum.

Justim suspects this propped up person sinks really low, so low it shows in tone over a phone call a year or so ago…

Chapter 2

It’s all too true at door number two upon arrival. As soon as Justim walks up to the front doorstep of an old acquaintance, all the smells of hell hit him. For not far from him, just on the other side of the door; is a sinister soul whom he’s well acquainted with many years back—a person who proclaims himself a Magus now. It makes Justim think... anyone who claims such a high chair must be sitting in a very low place.

Like someone calling himself the Son of God.

It’s God-Awful.

It’s something he’s learned living life, though only through much strife does Justim learn. He learns the lesson through a mind misleading him many times in the past. Now at last he knows to never let that tune lead him to ruin. He knows wrong like a song, sings and swings on pendulums of illusions of grandeur, derived from delusions. It delves deep to distant the self from reality, running the wearer ragged—nailed to a cross.

Justim used to call himself Saytim.

Meanwhile the Magus is anything but and being in the person’s presence proves that. However, because the Magus believes he is one... and so do some remnants of a cult... the Magus remains.

The Magus remains to cultivate a cult still clinging to a cause that Saytim, now Justim, learns long ago—serves no one but the person pushing the perception of deception.

Justim’s never known anyone else to challenge the self-proclaimed state of someone who calls himself a Magus. He’s challenged his own state in the past, slaying Saytim to become Justim. Within him it begins like in lore to slaying the dragon, ergo eliminating the ego. He tries years ago to let go the ego within the same person who pushes his presumed presence in the title of Master of the Temple.

Now he’s a Magus.

He learns long ago about all the titles aspirants aspire to in the A∴A∴ or occult world:

The Order of the Silver Star

Ipsissimus 10°= 1

Magus 9°= 2

Magister Templi 8°= 3

The Order of the Rose-Cross

Babe of the Abyss

Adeptus Exemptus 7°= 4

Adeptus Major 6°= 5

Adeptus Minor 5°= 6

The Order of the Golden Dawn

Dominus Liminis

Philosophus 4°= 7

Practicus 3°= 8

Zelator 2°= 9

Neophyte 1°= 10

Without all Orders

Probationer

Student

To start as a student in the A∴A∴ or in the Order Justim joins, means waiting a year and a day before initiation.

They believe within their Order a grade system is put in place to present one another in regards to their acquired claims to fame. Most of them hold to these titles like life preservers. Even the returning rogue many years back, before realizing he’s Justim not Saytim, fights and fancies himself above the Veil of Paroketh. He knows now to think anything else but being Justim is not only delusional but also dangerous. It definitely deprives any sense of self. Yet here he is back again to see it all too apparent, transparent with the one who now calls himself a Magus.

Way back when Justim is Saytim, he helps establish the Order. Though not a founding member, he’s there when they officially become an Order in the eyes of the Government as a legal body. The then Master of the Temple who ordains the Order, runs the Order like a president of any board or body; the pinnacle, the point, the peak likened to any pyramid scheme.

Like a bad dream, Justim is back again in the presence of he who calls himself Magus. Where, with nowhere else to turn; he takes a turn for the worse when he shows up on the stoop unexpectedly to find this self-proclaimed Magus… at least no longer on heroin—instead sustained by a pharmaceutical replacement called methadone.

Long before Justim’s return the Magus lives the life of a junkie, leaving him far from the norm with a form of hepatitis. Whether it’s one, two or three of the ABC’s affixed with the disease, that’s deemed left to discern. In fact, Justim has no concern for his well-being... save for only being there upon his return to acquire a place to crash until he figures out what to do with his life.

What a life, rife with strife. Highs and lows—he’s on a high after conquering Europe come his return... everything seems pale in comparison. It’s his Mount Everest, and Justim knows nothing will ever compare with it again. Likened to astronauts who arrive back on earth, they know their feet have touched something so few have and that’s how Justim feels.

That’s how he feels, no one else does. He can remember feeling the same way after another nine-month journey; a volunteer program, six-months civilian, three-months military. Where at the end of what seems like a full-term pregnancy, he hitchhikes across country. Upon his return he tells his adoptive parents and two sisters still staying at home all about it. He can remember sensing how uncomfortable his adoptive father feels during the telling, almost yelling silently...‘you’re a liar.’

Like the latter this time his telling only seems to bring up jealousy and jarred interruptions when trying to recant his trip abroad to his old acquaintance and his roommate. The roommate is with intrigue and interest, and it’s in this the so-called Magus delivers his disdain for all the attention swung Justim’s way. He has his own trip on the horizon looming and apparently only needs a push to proceed; this is where Justim proves pivotal.

It seems the attention from the few still in the swill of the Magus, steers to someone who appears with free will. They’re taken by Justim’s return and past doings so much so, it serves as an impetus for the Magus to make his trip a reality rather than just talking about it.

Chapter 3

Well within a few days upon Justim’s arrival, the Magus and Justim enter a nearby travel agent. There Justim bears witness to his old acquaintance purchase a trip to Egypt. It includes an excursion on the Nile by boat.

It sounds like quite a full itinerary.

Justim’s glad the formerly held high is now nigh to a great adventure. It’s something he’s procrastinated for a long time.

What with his heroin addiction abated by the fear of death upon discovering the deemed disease… followed by the treatment that from all accounts sounds as bad as cold turkey heroin withdrawals; well, perhaps he’s on the road to redemption.

Redemption may not be the best word to use in a satanic environment, however static to the point of paralytic. The Magus drags all those around him down into his own hell and now is not found so well. He hobbles his way around; hoping to hold onto a hand or land on a lava rock amidst the molten magma.

Justim or maybe Saytim is his hope in hell.

Justim can well imagine the iron ore core in lore opening the door to reveal the seal of Saytim... as it whirls within the centre of the sphere called Earth. Iron Man a tack on one of Justim’s favourite songs by Black Sabbath.

He’ll use it as a mantra where the theme of revenge will serve him well in hell.

As a youth he listens to songs like it and similar ones sung by Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and AC/DC. Perhaps they influence his imagery and future path for he’s now in the midst of a manmade Magus heroin hell.

The Magus’s pervasive personality attends to his arrival abroad while making sure all around know his doings. For now, the environment Justim finds himself in is anything but appeasing; it’s apathetic, pitifully pathetic.

The Magus’s life derives from a deluge of television occasionally interrupted with some sparse attention to the critters he harbours—not so much for the care a conscientious person will concern themselves with, but for the image it instils in others.

The critters range from a collage of cats... impetuous iguanas, a turtle tanked in his own stank, a gecko, hedgehogs, four ferrets, countless creepy crawlers and snakes of all sorts. The only good in his life comes with the care for these creatures. If you can call it that for more often than not critters go missing or die mysteriously.

Adversely, the cause the Magus concerns himself with so long ago is all but lost, save for the name and nomenclature.

And so with satanic stature, the Magus will feed the critters after supper, then sit on the corner of his couch and watch television. Even after waking up after noon he will spend the first couple of hours watching TV awaiting his methadone to kick in.

That yellowish liquid, much like urine in appearance, makes the journey to the land of the awake worthwhile.

And as Justim reticently reviews the surroundings, he imagines the so-called medication to be a saving grace, knowing full well how low heroin can heel a feeling human being.

A long time ago, actually the very last time he sees the then Master of the Temple, deems quite a disturbing scene. For his old acquaintance then is deep in the devilish deem heroin teems on its takers.

Seeing him way back then… mesmerized by the memory… again in his bathrobe likened to a wardrobe, writhing in his bed after a visit partook by; the then, still, though barely functioning Order. He’s there during one of the Celtic celebrations Justim usually attends.

It’s something to see.

For his old acquaintance; then, embodies the very worm that squirms inside the agony of addiction.

It’s… God-Awful.

Its only thought is where the next fix can be bought. So caught... the creature once a man, made into a Master of the Temple; is gnarled and snarled by the snare of heroin leaving him serving the hiss of a bygone bliss.

The way he leers and jeers his lechery and debauchery; well, it leaves Justim wanting to leave and to never be in his presence again. For at one time he holds him high, but ever since his heroin addiction takes hold, he’s seen a friend become a foe and woe to his ways.

Justim can remember how it all unfurls, like its hurled back into his head with dread.

Chapter 4

His back then mentor, so masterful in manipulations, amasses many minds to think as one, including Justim. Kind of like the television series Star Trek, The Next Generation, one of the Magus’s mainstays. In the show, the Borg who fight to further forth their worth with the phrase resistance is futile manifests into a mantra for the Master of the Temple and his many minions.

Justim, then Saytim’s only concern comes in the cause not the cult.

The cause as far as he’s concerned with, wells from love with a will to come and correct. As in to err is human, to correct is divine; causing change to occur under the universal will. Not his own or the ordained will of others; imagined or real, live or dead—but by Godhead.

He’s learned the way by listening to lyrics likened in Limelight, Closer to the Heart, New World Man, and Tom Sawyer, all by Rush. Justim, then Saytim, sacrifices his soul for the universal whole solely to help make Imagine by John Lennon a reality.

Justim brings to bear a better reality, learned and discerned through thousands of trials and tribulations. And even then it will always be attained within a pained process of trial and error... while he utters the word of terror emblazoned on The Emerald Tablet; in Moonchild by A.C.:

"Utter the word of majesty and terror,

True without lie and certain without error.

And of the essence of the truth... I know

The things above are as the things below.

The things below are as the things above,

To wield the one things thaumaturgy-love.

As all sprang from one contemplation,

So all from one were born by permutation.

Sun sired moon bore this unique universe,

Air was its chariot and earth its nurse.

Here is the root of every talisman,

Of the whole world since it began.

Here is the fount and source of every soul,

Let it be split on earth its strength is whole.

Now gently subtly with thine art conspire,

To fine the gross dividing earth and fire.

Lo it ascendeth and descendeth swift and even,

An endless band of earth and heaven.

Thus it receiveth the might of duplex love,

The powers below conjoined with those above.

So shall the glory of the world be thine,

And darkness flee before thy Sovran shrine.

This is the strong strength of all strength,

Surpass the subtle and subdue it,

Pierce the