A lovingly hand crafted Ninkondi (a set of nunchaku of tenno design, which pay homage to ancient techniques), made by a vigilant(e) watchman, the impasta from tronna. A very personal story of loss and transcendence by a completely unknown new character in the extended universe: TRICHOME TETRAHYDRON, a gundam pilot who lost his copilot brother in a tragic accident at a young age around the time the two were bonding over the explosively creative music of MF DOOM. With most of his masters dead already, he roams the world, walking through quiet snowy forests and contemplating how to complete the vows he and his brother made as children, to remember the Titans. His story takes a sudden turn when one of his few living hidden masters dies mysteriously. Thus, the forging of a great weapon...

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A note from the author, XXXXX XXXXX

Lemme be straight with you for a second no art no comic books. This is a tribute to MF DOOM and a letter of love and appreciation not just to the world of hip hop or stones throw or DOOM but the REAL LIFE heroines and heroes and spirits who have loved and helped and supported and uplifted and saved and convinced and taught and nurtured and dissuaded and protected and de/re-programmed and serenaded (and...) me throughout my painful life in a much damaged society. (Its been very beautiful experience and i wouldn't change anything today, i am still learning to understand the lessons hidden in my grief).

Its a letter of love to hip hop, to everyone who needs some love, to everyone who hopes for a better world and is tired of seeing heroes defeated, fake and evil shamans posture and defraud and misuse and appropriate medicines without thought or consequence, villains triumph and evil walk the earth under the name of greatness. It is a breath of fresh air, and some mushroom spores. Its a love letter to the art form that has given all of us so very much, and saved our lives and continues to do so over and over. Its a letter of love to everybody and everything that hip hop embraces and comes from. Its a letter of love to my childhood and my childhood friends.

And if some of the songs sound aggressive, negative, or worse, i hope you can understand that aggression comes from both love and pain. I need to speak my truths so i can be set free. We all have to do this and sometimes it can draw out the poisons in the wounds. But remember:

PEACE
LOVE
UNITY
RESPECT
AND HAVING FUN

It is a revolutionary socialist education and spicey hot fire and I am and will always be YOUR villain, the red robinhood stealth archer using the alchemy / potionmaking loop to attain 99.

My what sick flows we have. All the better to take from the rich and give to the poor with. Stealing from the gods with their permission. Bringing fire and a sword. This the mission.

Until next time...............

Trichome OUT
✧



"...Tetrahydron's missin!"

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...

We hear of one who worked alone and in secret for years, guided by sound waves emanating from a mysterious beating heart deep in the reaches of infinite space which instructed them on how to build their skills and complete the modifications.

Alone in the apartment recovering from burnout (years of trying to plug into a matrix-like corporate mould plus the intense world-onslaught of evil energy lately increasing for what some think are mysterious reasons...) he turned to his customary self healing method of poetry and freestyling for the month of December, dusting off the gundam suit and going for recreational walks on icy planets to clear the mind.

On Dec 31st 2020 just before midnight a massive electromagnetic pulse shockwave takes out huge portions of the world's tech infrastructure rendering all previous corporate bullshit basically a big fucken zero, a massive sinkhole of human talent and happiness. (Vinyl works still if you have a guy turning the crank who beatboxes so he can keep steady rhythms.)

DOOM is gone and the world is in chaos. The gundam pilot takes a walk outside to clear his head and gaze at the stars. He thinks... "I will always remember this night". In their heartmind TTRHYDRN calls out to all the spirits named on the back cover of this special issue and receives words of loving encouragement and discuss the issues of the day in a holographic mental discourse.

The morning of Jan 1 he wakes and sits in his kitchen where he likes to pace, freestyle, and drink water. But this morning he can't get anything started... Except maybe some coffee and some crushed bud. He doesn't know what to do on many levels. He searches articles on how to deal w grief from the death of famous world figures or artists causing you to activate old grief (unresolved) from your personal life. Not the first time he made the mistake of trying to find the most importsnt answers to life in a small simple package, but you'd be surprised how much you can learn about yourself just by allowing yourself to be true about the pain you're in. The articles had some level headed advice that helped him see the outlines and connections properly and find perspective.

He reads an article lovingly written about DOOM's life and cries for his own brother and the same pain so many of us walk around never showing, like a secret league of the heart whose members rarely even connect. All battling separately... He has thought images flash to him too complex to write down. He knows the pain of loss but finds it as hard to describe as his dreams for the future. How enormous it is. The grief. The futute. When the most important person to you is gone and you feel like you're in an alternate universe. In his mind as he cries he can see an image of his childhood in daycare: using a prison style phone to communicate with his 4 y old brother who is behind glass not yet ready to join the "big kids room". How many times since he has pressed his hand to glass to try to connect with the mirror reflection, and hear his brother's voice. He cries for the young kid Daniel Dumile, and its almost easier when its someone else to allow himself to feel compassion. Through this he heals a part of his own grief and the compassion and love he mentally feels toward the lost young man is felt today because he STILL IS THAT SAME SOUL  as when he lost his bro, still the same way, who had no idea what to do next at the time. He cries for the years spent wandering, in darkness, in the cold, hurting and unsoothed. He lets the tears wash over him and hugs himself. The tears begin to hurt and its better for him to breathe deep. Endorphins...

He wipes his eyes and hugs his cat. receives a call saying his close homie almost died sliding in ice on the highway. ... Thankfully he's perfectly safe by some miracle. He drops his phone on the counter and slides his back down the fridge, all water again...

He tells his friend how much he loves him and spends the night soothing his heart by singing and patching jays.

During sleep he uses inception time scaling to climb mental everests and find rare alloys for augmenting the suit. Guided by the mysterious signals.

Jan 3, morning:
The modifications complete, the levels checked (once or twice; i forget; we should be sure though; theres no time), Trichome Tetrahydron boots up the gundam suit and with a powerful red crystal attained thru deep meditation, the fighting suit's systems project a laser red hologram of his brother overlapping in the driver seat, which is a mind-manifestation of the holographic copy of his brother he had been living with in his mind his whole life.

As the ion jets ignite and the garage door scrolls up, the suit blasts off, with the brothers inside calmly checking the displays and making adjustments in a strange subconscious 2-hemisphere language only the two of them and the gundam suit understand. A dangerously home-made technology moving like a mix of unquantized beats and a based freestyle inside a fever dream, emitting all kinds of radiation and odd noises, sustained mainly by spiritual force rather than bread or oil which is - in cases like these - of secondary importance on the battlefield compared with discretion and valor, the two brothers take flight to join the extended universe heroes as they celebrate the living vibration, protect the earth, restore power and clean water to those who need it, and help to defeat the vulture army once and for all.

The legend of this miraculous first week of 2021 would be collimated into a laseraudiobook by Trichome when retired in his old age in a subterranean abode, and titled "THE 12 DAYS OF THEORY: A TRIBUTE TO THE ARCHITECT, DANIEL".

This tape was receieved from our contacts in the future who were able to listen to the book with their very own eyes...