I’ve started working on my Book again. You know, The Book. The thing in which one writes down all the everything.
I don’t know what to call it – Book of Shadows isn’t my thing, grimoire isn’t quite right – but I’m always scared that I’ll screw it up somehow. I had to get the ARC thing from Staples – that modular system where you can change things around. Like a binder, but it still looks nice. I can’t copy things into a journal that looks nice. Not yet.
In the fancy candy shop yesterday:
“Ooh, an Earl Grey macaron. I’ll get one, that’ll be a good offering for Wolf-Sensei.”
“Mint honey? Sure. Bast’ll enjoy that, I think. Ooh, and konpeitō!”
All of this out loud. All of it. (And I didn’t even know that konpeitō is a standard gift for the Imperial Family of Japan. Wrong side of the world, but, hey. Thanks. Thank you. Thanks. And lucky me, I get to revert all of these offerings. Delicious.)
Point is, aside from the fact that either due to my meds or the fact that I just don’t give a shit anymore, I have no filter. And my internal monologue is often an external monologue. And that often means that I’m openly pagan in public.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Read More…
“Mental health machine broke.”
“Understandable, have a great day.”
I meme, because otherwise I cry.
I’m gonna be real here – I’m not doing great. Living this close to Mos Eisley on the Potomac kinda does that; it’s chipping away at me, day after day.
It never used to do that. Read More…
Welcome to the first of my Spicy Astral Tomfuckery posts. This particular one happened back in 2014, with someone let’s call Bordaichin. I’m calling every spirit I reference by Mongolian names; the pseudonyms are because names have power, and the reason for Mongolian names in particular are due to my SCA persona as a 12th-century Mongolian archer. I’m combining aspects of my life. So sue me.
That said, let’s start.
Once is Happenstance, Twice Coincidence, Third Time is the Gods Knocking on Your Head and Calling You a Damn Fool
Like I have said before, I am a bit of a dense motherfucker, cf. my post about Bast. And sometimes, there’s the little things. Just the little things, the things that make you look at the camera like you’re Ben Wyatt when you think about them later (I don’t like The Office, Parks and Rec is way superior, fight me). Read More…