Book IX of Q’ri ru-Bloviart

Research Note #43: It is widely considered as fact by the historical community that Aamer Belkins-Dunjhab began his translation work of Gjeunse literature while still a resident of the Goonscape. While numerous translated artifacts may exist in that alternate dimension, it is difficult to confirm since none of his private notes have yet fallen out of the Goonscape and into the Known Universe. Would such document transmit from one dimension to the other, much could be learned about Belkins-Dunjhab’s methods. Not to mention the unimaginable wealth of knowledge held by Gjeunse that has yet to be translated into one of our Known languages. 


Excerpt from Book IX of  Q’ri ru-Bloviart (Proclamations† Related‡ to Times of Bloviart

Looking up, turmoiling sky
Rains and ruins my path to market
my eyes turn down with smile to see
my glancing, wild, bumpy feet

My namesakes built up all the markets
amid storms and death and plunderfolk
paced and traced with bumpy feet
much hurtings, yes but not defeat

So when gods confer the great big sky,
the market paths, and all my namesake
to Bloviart so him should rule on high
My eyes turn down and  wink
at pacing, wild, bumpy feet

† The Q’ appendage can be a tricky one in the Gjeunse language. In this instance, it takes on the significance of a “gestalt” of events but with more profound connotations.  Q’ is then appended to ri, a conjugate of the participle re, signifying time, as for example in “Ru-Bloviart” which can safety be translated as times or epochs related to — or affected by — the Bloviart.

‡ The prepositional relationship between Q’ri  and ru-Bloviart could be interpreted many ways here due to the incredible flexibility of the Q’ appendage.



The Chamber

There is no accurate way to begin since the experience itself was unlinear and exceeded all boundaries of time and self. The Gjeunse took me to a Chamber. There are many of them in their society. They are places of spiritual retreat, reflection and mindfulness. I have never experienced anything like it.

The Chamber I was taken to was a Whisper Chamber. Apparently there are different sorts but I don’t know what the other types are called. This one was a metal box, an intimidating edifice. Lonely inside, somewhat chilly. I was afraid.

When the doors closed, my fear began to roil. I heard my own voice, speaking as many voices, expressing aloud all my anxieties–those proximal to the experience I was currently in and those from the past which always follow fear, silent but illuminating as a comet’s tail . It was dissociating and therefore, calming actually. Within moments I recognized the control I had over the voices.  I soothed them. Soon, there were dozens of notions swirling around, beckoning me down different paths of reason. I have never had a more literal and organized thought process in my life.

I was only allowed in for a few minutes. It takes training and practice to be in the Chamber for long periods. I will certainly be back to experiment more with this.


Triovia Island

Visiting Triovia island today with Khempett Chipp, one of my Gjeunse host brothers. While this place was charming at first, I regret that we’ve elected to spend the majority of the 26 hour day here.

Triovia island is known for two things. First, the highly animated  and somewhat adorable ulili creatures that live here. Ulili are like bold rabbits though they are smaller in size and seem to roll instead of hop. They are swift, furry, and highly fertile. The island contains a populations of over ten thousand ulili, or at least, that is what our guidebooks claim. Regardless of the exact figure, the majority presence of the ulili  makes Triovia also a place of botanical curiosity since nearly everything that grows here is deadly poisonous.

From the flowering bushes to the fruit giving trees, it’s as if the island itself has a heart of venom, pulsating through so many vascular stems and branches.  I have already sustained several, painful rashes on my wrists and neck. Khempett laughed at me jolly and gave me a vial of soothing jellycream. But his good cheer is what eases my pain. At least he does not expect I will die of any type of exposure.

The ulili eat none of the poisonous plants. Instead, they feast on a type of grass that grows all over Triovia at extraordinary speed. The grass is called hina and it metabolizes the toxins in the ground. Depending on which part of the island you are on, the hina can grow fantastic shades of blue, purple or fuchsia.

We ate roasted ulili at midday and it was delicious. Not only in flavor but ever the more so because the smell of their friend’s burning flesh kept the other ulili far away, their endless chatter mercifully fading into the distance.




Solos and Trillo

Adopted, as an adult, by strange people in a fantastic new place. It’s a new kind of childhood. The seemingly infinite opportunity for exploration. Indeed since this town, this country, this planet is all wholly alien to me, it may as well be infinite, since the scope is more than I could  examine in several lifetimes.

Gjeunse have such varied cultures, languages and modalities and yet there is something that unites them all. A certain ironic sensibility, a sense of humor that is subtle yet cutting. Most are kindly, generous even — I have been treated with so many gifts, invitations and tours. Gjeunse have a rich culture of language and my profession as a polyglot and philosopher interests them.

They are familiar with the Known Universe, that is to say, the dimension of my origin. In their scientific imagings, the universe’s shape is something not dissimilar from an accordion’s bellows. They call their own dimension Solos. Ours they call Trillo.

That’s all for today,

That Can’t Be Right

“But that can’t be right,” protested young Heppmurt to the monk. “There must be a logical and correct course of action.”

The monk was perched on his favorite boulder, smiling broadly, wetness standing out at the corners of his eyes. Was he laughing? Was he crying?

“No logic. No correct.” The monk repeated. Heppmurt paced for a time. He had journeyed ten nights and a day to see this old monk, in search of everlasting wisdom. Heppmurt then lost control of himself for a while. He kicked and he screamed. He threw down his pack. His angry cries carried for miles across the mountain range.

The monk carefully slid down his boulder. “Time for dinner,” he said and lurched back into his little hut.

Heppmurt stayed outside in silent protest for several hours. Then he quietly gathered his things and ventured inside the warm, dimly lit, hut.


Apple Corps

“Hello Mr. al-Kadi! And welcome to Apple Corps!”

“Thank you. I’m so glad to be here.” Kashi and Johan shook hands.

“I’m Johan and I’ll be giving you a tour of the factory today. We’ve very excited to see the specs from your engineers over at PomTriece. Etta Whare is one of our favorite companies to produce for. ”

“One of?” Kashi cocked an eyebrow.

“Our favorite!” Johan corrected and opened a great steel door for Kashi to pass through. Kashi thought to himself It feels good to be acting again.

“This!” said Johan with a sweeping gesture. “Is the Product Hall. Kashi looked down from their catwalk perch. In the depths below him were hundreds of people hunched over computers inlaid into desks.

“I know they seem a little uptight from this angle but just wait until happy hour.” Johan winked. “These people, honest to goodness, were born to innovate.” Kashi and Johan moved on down the hall and through another steel braced door.

“Over here are the yoga studios, spas, game rooms, and even a state-of-the-art daycare. Oh and over here on the left is the oxygen chamber.”

“Aha!” Kashi exclaimed, “and I thought that was just a rumor.”

“Well,” Johan winked again, “they haven’t outlawed everything.”

Johan took Kashi by the shoulder and directed him down myriad passage ways and tunnels  until the dizzying monstrosity of Apple Corps was sufficiently clear.

At long last, Johan announced, “And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for, Mr. al-Kadi. Here is our pride and joy, iBuild Alpha.”

Johan opened the door and ushered Kashi inside.

A New Single-stage Process for Manufacturing Prefabricated Glass

Dear Ms. Stroeger,

My name is Hashim al-Kadi, CEO of PomTriece Inc.. I am contacting you with exciting news. A team of my best engineers has recently patented a new single-stage processing solution for the manufacture of prefabricated glass. I have decided that the best way to capitalize on the ingenuity of my staff is to pursue a single-supply chain with an internationally acclaimed retailer. Etta Whare is one of only a few selected companies that we will entertain bids from. I await your response.


Hashi al-Kadi


“Won’t he notice we hacked his account?” asked Kashi.

Sheila drained her can of beer. “Yeah,” she said. “Eventually. Just send it.”

“But how is she going to respond?”

“Kashi. Send the damn email.”

Kashi on Orchard Street

Kashi knocked on the door of the house on Orchard street. A heavy odor of cooking was eeking out of the walls of the suburban home. The door opened to reveal a large woman with deep, almond eyes. Her magnetic beauty and sex appeal was as pungent as the wafting odors from the kitchen.

“Can I help you?” She said.

“Yes. Hello. My name is Kashi Salaam.”

She stared at him.

“I have information about your husband Hector. I need your help.”

Sheila looked over Kashi with a firm and appraising eye.

“I know about Hector and the Goonscape,” Kashi continued more urgently. “Now let me in before someone sees me here.”

Sheila opened the door wide and moved to allow his passage. He scampered in under her arm. She closed the door behind him.

“I’m making dinner. Stay here in the living room.” When she reached the doorway back to the kitchen she turned and looked over her shoulder. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

Kashi sat down reluctantly in a sofa that smelled like it had been cooked on a thousand times. Now that he was indoors he could detect the subtle fragrances of Mexican spices and well-selected oils. Rice, peppers, and chiuaua cheese were present too.

Sheila was rummaging around with pots and pans until she was satisfied that everything could be left to simmer. She returned to the living room and wordlessly sat down on a chair opposite Kashi.

“So you’re Kashi and you know about the Goonscape. What exactly do you think you know?”

Kashi was a little surprised at her apparent ingratitude. He decided to be straight with her. He wanted to impress her.

“I know that you husband Hector Rodriguez is stuck in the Goonscape and I know Murdock Corporation is involved.”

She granted him an impressed lift of a single eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Well, that’s pretty much it. And that Hector had a friend named Vivian who might be able to help us.”

“Vivian, huh? Is she the one who slipped this letter into my catalog?”

Sheila produced the letter from underneath a cushion and handed it to Kashi. “You know she kind of implies that I shouldn’t trust you. Since you’re being followed by secret agents and everything.”

“So you think I’m a spy or something?”

Sheila shook her head. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

Statistically, the Most Unlikely Letter in the Known Universe


Dear Ms. Stroeger,

My name is Kashi Salaam and I think we both know somebody named Hector Rodriguez. You went to high school with him. You had a nickname for him, “Grape Soda.” He needs your help and so do I.

I am transferring an .if I made of a letter I found in my father’s house as I was getting ready to sell it. It is addressed to you from Mr. Rodriguez. He asserts that he is writing to you from the Goonscape. I assure you that this was just as confusing to me as it must be to you.

I understand that this is probably a very abrupt email but I beg you to take it seriously. My father was Aamer Belkins-Dunjhab. If you know who that is then you also might know that he recently took his own life and I think Hector Rodriguez might know why. I really need your help to reach Mr. Rodriguez. It’s rather complicated so we might need to talk in person. If you think I am a nutcase after an initial meeting then I will not bother you anymore.

Kashi Salaam



Dear Vivian,

I don’t think this message could ever possibly find you but here it is anyway.

My name is Hector Rodriguez. Do you remember me? We knew each other 40 years ago in high school. You used to call me Grape Soda though I can’t remember why. We solved mysteries together. I’ll bet you remember that. There was an upperclassman who was terrorizing students by peeing on them. He peed on me, actually. I remember that you told me to report him to the principal of the school and then he was expelled. I don’t remember his name.

I’m writing to you because I was thinking about the mysteries you and I used to solve I thought how crazy it would be if somehow you found this letter because I am at the center of an amazing mystery. About 14 months ago, I fell through the known universe and into the Goonscape. It has been really bizarre. Kind of exciting too but mostly stressful.

The goonfamily that adopted me has been very kind to me. The goons here know about the known universe because a bunch of things have fallen through over the centuries. But I’m only the third person in history to have fallen through! The first was Amelia Earhardt but she died after she crash landed here in the Goonscape so nobody really knew what to make of her. The second was a really famous professor named Aamer Dunjhab. He taught the goons some languages (including English, thank god). There is a statue of him in a city plaza in Dren Mii (that’s like a big city here). Actually, this Aamer guy is apparently the only person to ever fall BACK into the known universe from the goonscape so I didn’t even get to meet him! Kind of a drag on top of already being trapped in an alternate dimension.

Anyway, I have a lot of free time here. I have a wife back in the known universe. Her name is Sheila. I write her letters like all the time. If you get this, could you tell her that I miss her and that I write her every day? Sheila Rodriguez. She lives on 4679 N. Orchard Blvd in Philadelphia. Well, that’s where we used to live anyway. It’s possible she had to move out by now.

Maybe I’ll write you some more tomorrow. I’m kind of tired now.

Aamer’s Fireplace


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Date: 4/12/43
Location: Linsdale, NY
Mood: sweaty

I was just taking out a few last loads of trash when I ran into a nextdoor neighbor, Jeana. She expressed condolences and corroborated my suspicions that my father had not been taking adequate care of himself for months. She said she wished she had called me. I absolved her of responsibility. I was his son, after all.

Then she told me something funny. She said that even though it’s been incredibly hot (unseasonably so, even for April) she noticed that dad had been using the chimney a lot. And, apparently, just a few nights before his death, he even had a small bonfire in the backyard.

I didn’t find any evidence of a fire in the backyard but when I looked in the fireplace I saw  she was right. It had been freshly used. There were curls of charred paper inside. I picked up a few of the scraps to see what my father had been burning. They appeared to be some kind of legal correspondence. I thought maybe they were related to drafts of his will but then I recognized a Murdock Corp. logo on one of the papers. Definitely odd but then I realized I had to clean the goddamn fireplace too. I want to get away from this house as soon as possible.

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Kashi in His Father’s House


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Date: 4/11/43
Location: Linsdale, NY
Mood: …

I have returned to my father’s house after his suicide. It’s eerie being here. Not just because he’s dead but also because we really didn’t talk much this whole year.

I see now that I was avoiding my father because he was getting so depressed that it scared me. I didn’t want to be around him like that. He seemed so old and frail and sad. I fled to Princeton where I could keep in touch with him by video chat on a “regular basis.” I’m such a fucking coward.

The house has changed a lot since I was last here. All his notes and books, normally organized, are scattered and messy. There was almost no food in the fridge. I threw most of it away. It looks as though he was not taking proper care of himself. I feel ashamed and guilty, responsible in some ways for his suicide. I’m going to stay here for the next two days cleaning and collecting items.

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Aamer Belkins-Dunjhab Commits Suicide

Yesterday morning at 5:06am, scholar and linguist Aamer Belkins-Dunjhab was pronounced dead in his suburban home in upstate New York. He had slit his wrists in the tub of the master bathroom. The following cryptic message was found at the scene and is believed to be a suicide note. He was 74 years old.

“I see now that I have been a destructive force in the universe.”

Belkins-Dunjhab is survived by his son Aakash, a student of engineering at Princeton University. Aakash is better known as Kashi Salaam and has done some work as an amateur filmmaker.