[blame Ruth for this]
So, no posts from me for a while. “Why’s that?,” you ask. “And what’s the deal with this calling yourself ‘The Greatest Adept Of Our Time’?”
Sensible questions. The last one is easy: it’s a reference to
Lon DuQuette sorry, “Lamed ben Clifford” and Chicken Qabalah, specifically the prefatory remarks by Mr. Orpheus. If you didn’t remember it, I’ll wait until you go skim through your copy on the shelf. Go on, I’ll still be here drinking this fine coffee from Joplin’s Java.
Since you read that, you now know how I found myself as of 25 January 2013. The magick in question comes from the remaking of myself as an act of will. Or Will. Definitely not Wilting. Compare to imagery of shamanic dismemberment by the spirits that he later befriends as his Allies and the initiatory message of the Tomb in certain WMT rituals.
That requires a bit of acceptance of where I started out with this. This isn’t just “Oh, I’m bored with myself. Time to put on yet another mask.” remaking myself. No. This is about radical overhauling of the thing that animates this meat suit. And the meat suit as well. And all of the stuff/junk around the meat suit as well.
As of 1 January 2013, I was unemployed (close to unemployable), weighing around 360 pounds (just under 165kg for those metric folks and 26 stone for the others) and totally inactive, pretty much totally isolated and wanting to stay that way, sliding into an obsessive fugue where all my world revolved around being online and watching TV on the computer. That was my life.
It sucked ass.
What’s a wizard to do when he finds himself in a situation that sucks ass? If he is a magician, he changes that. The quicker, the better.
Here’s what I’m doing:
- Continuing Education classes and borrowed computer time to knock some of the rust off of my graphics and software skills. Photoshop hasn’t changed that much since I walked away from it in favor of GIMP, but it has changed. Same with the decline of Quark in favor of InDesign. Must. practice. more.
- Exercise and change my eating patterns. I hate cooking for one, so I don’t cook so much these days. Lots and lots of salad and simple veggie things tends to be my menu. When I upgraded my lake, I also gained a gym membership subsidized by Waukegan Township. And no car means I take the bus, the train, and walk a lot. Here, there are things to walk to. Namely, a very cool little coffeehouse* that is partially a music store (racks of guitars, a concert grand, and 2 salon pianos) with decent folk running it and an enjoyment of diverse cultures…
- Volunteering. Passing out food to hungry people is usually a good idea. In this case, I’m meeting my neighbors and interacting with actual people rather than their virtual bits on the monitor.
- Seeing a doctor. Like many guys, I’m guilty of ignoring my health until things go massively wrong. In my case, having triple digit diastolic blood pressure counts as massively wrong. Same with all of those idiopathic aches and pains that keep me wanting to lie down and not leave the couch. Those needed to be addressed as well. In this case, a tiny daily amount of fluoxetine and amitriptyline helps those not be an issue.
- Getting offline. I have a hard limit of 4 hours a day to do what needs doing online. One hour gets spent on socializing – Facebook, blogging, chat, etc. The rest are spent looking for a job or doing small freelance projects to pay for incidentals. Like this very tasty coffee…
When you don’t see me, it’s not a matter of going to grow. It’s not a matter of time or how I feel.
I’m throwing off the shadow of a better man now…
What? You expected me not to break out a Sisters or Neubauten reference when I have the opportunity?
* Yes, I’m plugging them. The joint reminds me a lot of the idealism of Lockerbie and Fletcher Place. Unlike popular writers and TV personalities of note**, my plugging of them won’t kill the place by making it a tourist trap. It will, however, attract like-minded co-conspirators who will likely add their unique flavors to the booyah*** of the place.
** This one’s for Ruth: you say you like my writing style. That’s cool. It’s not really all my own, however. Like all good chefs, I rip off other people and do my best to understand what They did and then put my own stamp on it. Sir Isaac Newton (not my former cat of the same name, but the higher primate that was the source) said something about seeing further only because he was standing on the shoulders of giants. For my personal journaling style here on the CoP, that means Anthony Bourdain, Richard Bachman (not King. NEVER Stephen King.), Molly Peacock, and Etheridge Knight have my size 13′s digging in to their trapezius muscles in disturbing ways that should only be familiar to regulars at the Club Sasaboo…
*** Y’know – booyah.