This page compiles the graphic tragic-comic cosmic
Chronicles of Wee G and Balloon,
as committed to paper and ink one decade ago… A self-contained work, forever in progress, and ending where it begins. Please be respectful of our weary warriors who traveled a very VERY (very) long way to bring you their stories. We care too much what you think about us, and therefor:
We don’t care *what* you “think” about US.
As told to me by a sibyl, in a UniVerse so near, near and yet so far away:
A story of two most-unlikely friends, tethered together by fate. Baloon is a boy, trapped in the body of a balloon. His name should have two L’s but it often doesn’t. And Wee G…? Is a shapeshifting lab-rat who escaped eternal imprisonment by learning to astral project. She is genderless and the horrible experiments performed upon her make it excruciating to incarnate at times, but she prefers the pronoun “she.” In a past life, from a different star system entirely, Wee G was one of the greatest “female” rappers ever known (aka Cannapussy, named after the star Canopus)… Who, as the legend goes, was murdered by jealous Not-Sees for “telling it like it is” (which, as she points out, is the sacred duty of poets and she had no choice but to abide).
The Not-Sees were a militaristic group who hoarded all of their world’s technology and resources, believing that by strategically eliminating all of their opposition the world would become a “perfect” place. However, this ideology made it very difficult for them to grasp the holistic nature of the magical tools they plundered and co-opted, and their actions had a tendency to clumsily backfire upon them. Almost worse than if they hadn’t done anything at all. Some say they created more prophets and healers than they were able to successfully destroy, and accidentally made the world a better place after all. As Wee G says, “Truth souljahs don’t die, we multiply.” But that is neither here nor there.
In the future the Not-See philosophy died out… But only after becoming the greatest, most wide-spread religion on their Earth. And yet, despite this, or perhaps in spite of this…they began to fall in love with the lives they had stolen, as if in lieu of the absence of the very thing they had condemned, annihilated, and extinguished… Little by little, as echoes of the souls they destroyed began to permeate their psyche ((like music so distantly heard it begins as if of mere silence itself)), filling the empty barren void left in the wake of their conscience. According to the lore, it was (in the first place) by a great tragedy, neglect, and abuse…that this “evil” void of life was created and implanted inside them, and it was ordained as pre-destined that We would be reunited again as a people some day.
When this understanding became widespread, the fires of blame began to falter and sputter as if wet by the tears of our own people. Most of the magnetics which had for so long perpetuated their hateful lusting simply fell limp…and the sacred elements they hoarded suddenly felt terribly out of place in this shifted paradigm; and confusing to manipulate. And all at once it was as if the hunger for War vanished from our hearts and minds…at a time when evil had become so rampant and widespread in society? That distinctions between friend and enemy had eroded almost to an invisibly fine line. Which could be flip-flopped instantaneously, at a moment’s notice, into a witch hunt of hysteria.
But… That was then, and this is now.
In Wee G’s own place and time (dimension), it is widely believed that the death of Cannapussy directly caused the downfall of the Not-Sees. Being that she was the most beautyful, beloved voice of her people, and descended from the sacred indigenous Mother Land of her world: The grief in reprieve of her passing was unfathomably deep and created shockwaves throughout the entire UniVerse, spanning all dimensions and galaxies… as her essence was shattered and dispersed back into it. To this day, she is celebrated as a goddess (the matron saint of Art and Love) in her home world. But she doesn’t yet know about all that, because she is trapped between in-finite dimensions (where she is only briefly able to astral project before being returned ((like a boomerang)) to Earth). She has not yet been able to make it back to her own home, time and place. She knows only the latter-most details of the future, because in each and every future she encounters…the Not-Sees meet the same fate.
Needless to say, Wee G’s very being is furious and frustrated to the core, at having been sent back to the “past”…before her work was quite done, after all that? (if you can imagine the feeling). When the Not-Sees on Earth are, like a living relic left behind by evolution, not yet aware of their listless soon-to-be extinction. Trapped as a “lowly” lab-rat and unable to reprise her role as the greatest rapper of all time, Wee G has become a DJ in this lifetime. Balloon, the boy, is an inanimate object…doomed to be rejected by his peers, drift away into the sky, and burst under the Sun. “Like Icarus, if he were Sisyphus” (as Wee G has been known to observe). Again and again and again.
Despite this, or perhaps in spite of it, balloon (who Wee G is lovingly wont to call “Double-Hockey-Schtick”) holds the secret to rescuing humanity. However… Wee G, whose native language is the essence of music itself (rather than our leaves-one-wanting “English”), is tasked with the difficult fate of teaching him what he needs to learn to unlock this secret within himself. Or else? You know what. He, who does not understand a word of what she is saying in her native tongue. She must painstakingly translate it for him, as if in riddles to his ears, in a nightmarish yet strangely beautyful world… where music has been shattered into hundreds of bits and pieces of uniquely schismed languages; who are at War with one another for “the one true truth.” Which, of course, is a paradox in the olden tongues: ūnitās, ἁρμονία, and pāx. Listen closely my children, to the tale I tell, because although it may be only fiction in your dimension…one day your world too may call upon you, to sing the song I sing. And so it begins.
