Notes from the MTG Underground: Reflections

“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.”

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Notes from the Underground: Everyday is Halloween (A Guest Appearance from Magnus de Laval)

halloween

“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.

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The Phyrexian Circus Derails: Hallucinations from the MTG Underground

“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”

Rasputin

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.

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On the Road: A Trip to Hell to interview the Damned (Eternal Weekend 2015)

“The Road to Hell is paved with unplayed foil Tarmogoyfs.”

-Erhnam Hemingway

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.

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