“To reflect on the past, we must pull our teeth from the flesh of the present and our vision from the hellfire of the future.” – Baron Sengir
Summer 2002. My daughter was three years old. She was almost as fascinated with me as I was with her.
The first time I found her looking at a Magic card, but I could not see what it was. She was talking to my brother about it.
“This is my dad. That’s blood by his mouth.”
“Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.”
-William Shakespeare, Macbeth
The toils of every day life tend to be a blur, easily forgotten or drowned in the similarity of moments once they pass from the present into memory. The details of an average day are rarely noticed while they happen, so it is no wonder that we do not recall them after they are gone.
We live for the festive moments. We mourn the tragic ones. The strangest among us blend the two like a poisonous and sweet nectar, and let life intoxicate us not only in anticipation and memory, but also in the moments as they happen, embracing the ecstasy and the agony without discrimination.
For us, the celebration never ends. Every day is Halloween.
“When you have understood my words, forget them. If you cannot understand my words, ignore them. I insist on your freedom.” – Rasputin Dreamweaver, from “Reflections on Kerouac”
Darkness gives way to the light.
It washes over my face. With it comes a cold, morning breeze. A shiver runs through my prone body. I roll over and have to catch myself as I land on the tattered floorboards of a front porch. I lean against my perch for a moment, letting my eyes adjust, slowly coming to understand that I had been sleeping atop a large blue cooler. On the porch. On a porch. I do not have a porch.
“I like my magic like I like metal: Black and from 1994.” – Yawgmoth, Former Sound Board Technician at Deathlike Silence Productions
I love Music the same way I love Magic.
It should come as no surprise that my passion for sound is as far from the mainstream as my approach to the game.
“The Road to Hell is paved with unplayed foil Tarmogoyfs.”
I am an Old Djinn these days. My once Iconic reputation is now a faded and tattered banner of a forgotten age. In my youthful days, I would travel anywhere I could trick some poor bastard into carrying my bottle. Now I can hardly be bothered to set my feet in motion. I have given my bottle to a cat, who fortunately does not grasp the concept of wishes, and I am trying to enjoy a deranged mockery of retirement. It is a grotesque mix of sadness and cleverness, neither of which truly suits me, and at least a few times a year I cannot bear it. I spend some green mana and my Wanderlust kicks in.
“Instead of stealing from the people, why not just steal the people?” –Rubinia Soulsinger
Spring 1992. There was no Magic.
What did we do before there was magic?
I was twelve years old, and I was preparing to shoplift for the first and only time in my life. Continue reading