From PagodaWiki

THERE IS AN OCCULT UNDERGROUND

Beneath the living mirror of heaven, beneath the world of our desires, there are streets with secret names. They connect the back alleys of civilization with the urine-stained vacant lots of the cosmos. They take you to the occult underground.

You know it exists - or rather, you know it has to exist. You know it in your bones.

You know because you've heard the rumors. A song that drives people to suicide. A man whose face melts with each dawn. A videotape that shows the birth of a goddess.

There are lots of rumors. These are different. The people you hear them from are different, like the weird drunk in the bar who lit his ciggarettes without matches, or the street performer whose juggling pins pirouetted in unison between his hands. When you asked them how they did it they just smiled and said "Eh, its just a magic trick." Then the drunk sloppily pulled a quarter from your ear and the juggler dropped a pin and the moment was gone. But the feeling of truth remained.

You know these things:

Something big is going down. You don't know what. But you can feel it all around you. It's in the air, in the headlines of newspapers, in the blurry images on television. It is a secret you have yet to grasp, though you could swear there was a dream you had in which you heard it whispered.

You need to know more. The world you know is not enough for you. You want to go deeper. At times you want to let go of reality and let yourself slip into some kind of pure understanding. Anything would be better than daily life. You know there is a place, a place of ideas, and that it contains all of your desires.

But there is danger there. People vanish, die horribly, become madmen, for the sake of whatever the secret is that lies at the heart of the unseen world.

That world is the occult underground. Find it, before it finds you.