I’m writing a bit for work, and writing a bit for myself. This is about the latter.
When you write a story, you have to handle characters. And while making them outrageously over-the-top is always an option (see vangels), sometimes you have to ground them in a little reality. Or a lot, depending on how you take things.
He looked up from his work. “Hey.”
She sat next to him, the wooden bench warm in the summer afternoon. “Paper cranes, huh?”
“Yeah, well.” He smiled, more to himself than anything else. “You know the story of how the Japanese would make a thousand of these…”
“To make a wish come true, yeah.” She smiled at him. “That’s pretty cool. Anyone in particular?”
He stayed quiet after that.
I attended a Salvador Dali art show the other day. I had a lot of thoughts about it.
The art itself was wonderful, if someone sparse. Admittedly, the exhibit was curated carefully (and the pieces on display were reproductions), but you could see Dali’s skill and frenetic energy in every piece. Controlled chaos ruled each canvas, with solid colors intermingling with fantastic creatures and alien landscapes on every page.
Yet my biggest issue was a simple one: no one seemed to care about it.
It made me wonder about the future of our society, driven as we are around mass-produced content that’s bombarded to us 24/7. Are we capable of creating whimsical, magical things? Or are we condemned to watch the elites snap up yesteryears phantasmagoria while we pretend that everything’s okay?
What is the art of our day and age?
It’s midway through the first month of 2017, and I’d like to introduce you to St. Michael the Archangel. If you’re starting out as a magician, he’s one of the best possible allies that you can get in aiding your work. No, really, he is.
So let’s get started on burning things up, shall we?
As I write this, the sound of karaoke wafts through the windows like an unwanted solicitation. It’s Christmas Day, and a long weekend besides – people have every intention to drink and sing themselves into a stupor before the next week rolls around. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be sitting here, writing about mortality and the realizations it brings. But I am.
The storm is coming.
Posted in thoughts
Tagged death, opinion
When you listen to Gordon White’s latest talk with Austin Coppock about what we can expect in 2017, one thing becomes very clear: a butt-load of uncertainty is filling the air. Plus a lot of fire. And a couple of eclipses, retrogrades, and whatnot.
So what’s a person to do? Well, you can build a boat.
“Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange.
Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never could.”
This is, in its own way, a rant of sorts. A form of courtesy in its own sense, opening with a timely quote from Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell.
A lot of people think that money (loads of it, natch) translates directly into wealth. The more of it you have, the more things in life you can enjoy: vacation breaks, exotic foods, snappy gadgets – the list goes on and on. It’s certainly hard to say otherwise: raw spending power, whether physical or digital, has always been a visible symbol of status no matter where you go.
But I disagree.
Stormweaving – the art of creating the circumstances for a perfectly logical storm to arise no matter what the odds are.
In October, I was warned that December this year was going to be quite turbulent. At the time, it seemed that bunkering down was the better option. But based on recent events, it now seems that it’s the only way left to salvage any .
It seems like a crazy idea. It is. And if you know me, it’s the kind of idea that I would espouse at wit’s end.
But here we are.