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fiat_knoxYou get days like yesterday, full of ups and one incredible down.
And then you get today, with a couple of downs but one incredible up.
Today's 'scope:-
Be the star of your own movie today and be proud of the role you play, dear Cancer. You might find yourself adopting the persona of many different characters, depending on your mood of the hour. There is a special gleam in your smile today that you should share openly with others. Do not feel rushed to get anywhere. You have already arrived. Enjoy yourself in the company of those you love.
I missed the train to Liverpool. Deliberately. Nick was nowhere near the station, as he'd promised - nor did he make any attempt to call me (and I haven't got his number to call him, so I was relying upon him to call me). I was at the station from 08:45 until the train arrived - no sign of him anywhere. Swift change of plans. Sorry, Nick old boy. Some other time. Still on for lunch next week?
I got on the bus to Chester instead. I'd planned on going some time, but hadn't thought it'd be today. I wondered if there'd be a goldstone like the one I saw last time Nick and I went out, to Chester that time. Second of the day's disappointments. No goldstones. PA - ANTS.
I find that goldstones are the most powerful trance inducing stones I have ever used, next to a pure black obsidian. The goldstone's shiny flecks in a dark blue medium are so reminiscent of a window into a starry void; and people staring at a goldstone can so easily be entranced by it, simply by turning the stone ever so slightly so that the minute flecks twinkle in the light. Honestly. You really can get zonked easily staring at one, if I'm showing it to you.
And now, the ups.
On the way into Chester I saw a magnificent motortrike, all chrome, crossing the bus's path as it roared along the road from Chester. It looked custom built, and it looked like something my Traveller character Captain Ro Focale would have ridden on his visit to Earth (I'll have to write up about his Earthside trip some time ...). I said "Daaamn," very softly ... and this African woman turned to look at me. If I was awestruck before, she took my breath away.
She had almond eyes and magnificent deep ebony black skin that I really wanted to touch. Her smile was radiant.
*cough ahem TMI4U*
Anyway, I thought nothing about it. Until I was getting on the bus back home. And there she was, waiting for a friend of hers. And she engaged me in conversation. Her name is - well, better not name names here - but she is a student from Gambia. Hence, just "African." Not "Afro-anything." Pure African. And her eyes were just melting me.
I asked her if she had the time. We could go some place and I could find out more about her, where she comes from, what she likes to do. She told me that she couldn't. Not today.
Instead, she gave me her phone number, and asked me to call her any time.
There are more ups to report.
The Town Crier was in fine form in Chester town centre. I told her about how the Americans I'd escprted around town had considered seeing a genuine Town Crier to have been one of the highlights of their visit to the UK, never mind Chester. The fact that she was a woman sort of capped the event for my two friends. Wish they'd call me, or at least get in touch. I'll email once I've posted this thing. (They won't be the only ones I ping this weekend).
Then, to her astonishment, I noted how seriously she considered her role. I said, and I quote, "The office of Town Crier is a venerable and noble one, with a great deal of solemnity. I must say that you discharge your duties and acquit yourself impeccably." - a turn of phrase worthy of a Town Crier in its own right.
She bowed to me.
Oh. Coffee at the Coffee Republic. A bit like the coffee in Sainsbury's in Wrexham. Don't drink it. It's like medicine, like those pills you take that back up and you get that bilious taste in the back of your throat. Like that. I've chewed on rubbers off pencils with better taste.
And outside, I got harangued by Christians preaching about God and stuff. Me with my visible churinga, my duty blacks and my pentagram rings. A sweet woman approached me and proffered a leaflet. "God is Speaking." I gently waved her off. "God loves you," she said. "Perhaps," I replied. And thought: He certainly doesn't show anybody any favours. Truth is, I was only interested in the lady playing the lute. You don't often see lutes being played, outside of RenFaire reenactments or, perhaps rather badly, at LARPs.
Besides, like I said, I always tend to look like I'm batting for the wrong side. I wear my pentagram rings on my left hand, and an amethyst ring on the right - for kissing, you know. While you're kneeling. Like any Chaotician, I wear the pentagrams so that when I look at them, they're two points down - but when I display them to others, it's one point down.
"Right way round to me; wrong way round to everybody else." Blessed Be, Gytha Steph my old mentor, wheresoever you are now.
Speaking of "dark and sinister." My copy of A E Waite's The Book of Spells is, in essence, a compilation of the best bits of a number of grimoires including The Key of Solomon, the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, the Grimorium Verum and The Grimoire of Honorius. It is one of the most important texts on Goetia and Theurgy going, and a must - have for anyone wanting to know anything about, say, the Clavicularius Legacy from Mage: the Awakening, or indeed anything about handling a situation when some other idiot calls upon something he can't put down.
Available elsewhere in the world as The Book of White Magic for close on £25 in some stores, this book - with identical wording to the more expensive tome - is available in a remainder bookstore in Chester for just two pounds.
I got myself a backup copy for the flat.
Now I don't have to worry about the copy I carry around with me getting too damaged. Wear and tear are pretty much the sorry lot of the stuff in my possession, and I do a lot of research into the subject while patrolling.
Another up: I regularly talk to the young security woman in the bus depot. Today, I just told her that my ride was coming in, so I was off - and wished her a nice weekend. She smiled back at me. I see her regularly, but she rarely so much as acknowledges my existence.
I know, chatting up multiple women at once. I'm shameless.
Remember; Goetia? Batting for the bad team?
Well. Sort of. I'm a Chaotician. A Trickster. I'll bat for whichever side I choose. Or bat for no side at all. Or sit down and play poker where everyone else is playing chess.
"Ooh. The Velikovsky Gambit. I'll see your gambit and raise you ..."
Now the only question shall be, when to call this woman whose number I have. Sunday night, perhaps. :)
Other moments:-
- Thinking about the authors![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucien_soulban, innocent_man, weaver42, jesshartley and dandelionclock. Thinking how each author has his style, and thinking that innocent_man's is most reminiscent of roleplaying in Ray Bradbury's America.
Remembering the line "Even trees rent by lightning may bear new fruit" from the Code of Ananda and remembering that the Code was written bysatyrblade.
Remembering every single one of the ten commandments of the Code of Ananda, and realising that I still knew them off by heart even though I haven't thought about the Cult of Ecstasy for years.
Reading about the Rite of Summoning Lucifuge Rofocale in the middle of St Peter's Church By The High Cross, the little church in the centre of Chester where they used to muster for pilgrimages to Rome. Yes, I was reading a book on summoning The Devil in a church.
It might have more than its share of dreams crushed like bugs under the wheels of a truck, but damn my life has its moments.
Addendum: I just texted her now. And she responded. Only briefly, but she did respond. Let's hope this is the start of something fun.
And then you get today, with a couple of downs but one incredible up.
Today's 'scope:-
Be the star of your own movie today and be proud of the role you play, dear Cancer. You might find yourself adopting the persona of many different characters, depending on your mood of the hour. There is a special gleam in your smile today that you should share openly with others. Do not feel rushed to get anywhere. You have already arrived. Enjoy yourself in the company of those you love.
I missed the train to Liverpool. Deliberately. Nick was nowhere near the station, as he'd promised - nor did he make any attempt to call me (and I haven't got his number to call him, so I was relying upon him to call me). I was at the station from 08:45 until the train arrived - no sign of him anywhere. Swift change of plans. Sorry, Nick old boy. Some other time. Still on for lunch next week?
I got on the bus to Chester instead. I'd planned on going some time, but hadn't thought it'd be today. I wondered if there'd be a goldstone like the one I saw last time Nick and I went out, to Chester that time. Second of the day's disappointments. No goldstones. PA - ANTS.
I find that goldstones are the most powerful trance inducing stones I have ever used, next to a pure black obsidian. The goldstone's shiny flecks in a dark blue medium are so reminiscent of a window into a starry void; and people staring at a goldstone can so easily be entranced by it, simply by turning the stone ever so slightly so that the minute flecks twinkle in the light. Honestly. You really can get zonked easily staring at one, if I'm showing it to you.
And now, the ups.
On the way into Chester I saw a magnificent motortrike, all chrome, crossing the bus's path as it roared along the road from Chester. It looked custom built, and it looked like something my Traveller character Captain Ro Focale would have ridden on his visit to Earth (I'll have to write up about his Earthside trip some time ...). I said "Daaamn," very softly ... and this African woman turned to look at me. If I was awestruck before, she took my breath away.
She had almond eyes and magnificent deep ebony black skin that I really wanted to touch. Her smile was radiant.
*cough ahem TMI4U*
Anyway, I thought nothing about it. Until I was getting on the bus back home. And there she was, waiting for a friend of hers. And she engaged me in conversation. Her name is - well, better not name names here - but she is a student from Gambia. Hence, just "African." Not "Afro-anything." Pure African. And her eyes were just melting me.
I asked her if she had the time. We could go some place and I could find out more about her, where she comes from, what she likes to do. She told me that she couldn't. Not today.
Instead, she gave me her phone number, and asked me to call her any time.
There are more ups to report.
The Town Crier was in fine form in Chester town centre. I told her about how the Americans I'd escprted around town had considered seeing a genuine Town Crier to have been one of the highlights of their visit to the UK, never mind Chester. The fact that she was a woman sort of capped the event for my two friends. Wish they'd call me, or at least get in touch. I'll email once I've posted this thing. (They won't be the only ones I ping this weekend).
Then, to her astonishment, I noted how seriously she considered her role. I said, and I quote, "The office of Town Crier is a venerable and noble one, with a great deal of solemnity. I must say that you discharge your duties and acquit yourself impeccably." - a turn of phrase worthy of a Town Crier in its own right.
She bowed to me.
Oh. Coffee at the Coffee Republic. A bit like the coffee in Sainsbury's in Wrexham. Don't drink it. It's like medicine, like those pills you take that back up and you get that bilious taste in the back of your throat. Like that. I've chewed on rubbers off pencils with better taste.
And outside, I got harangued by Christians preaching about God and stuff. Me with my visible churinga, my duty blacks and my pentagram rings. A sweet woman approached me and proffered a leaflet. "God is Speaking." I gently waved her off. "God loves you," she said. "Perhaps," I replied. And thought: He certainly doesn't show anybody any favours. Truth is, I was only interested in the lady playing the lute. You don't often see lutes being played, outside of RenFaire reenactments or, perhaps rather badly, at LARPs.
Besides, like I said, I always tend to look like I'm batting for the wrong side. I wear my pentagram rings on my left hand, and an amethyst ring on the right - for kissing, you know. While you're kneeling. Like any Chaotician, I wear the pentagrams so that when I look at them, they're two points down - but when I display them to others, it's one point down.
"Right way round to me; wrong way round to everybody else." Blessed Be, Gytha Steph my old mentor, wheresoever you are now.
Speaking of "dark and sinister." My copy of A E Waite's The Book of Spells is, in essence, a compilation of the best bits of a number of grimoires including The Key of Solomon, the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, the Grimorium Verum and The Grimoire of Honorius. It is one of the most important texts on Goetia and Theurgy going, and a must - have for anyone wanting to know anything about, say, the Clavicularius Legacy from Mage: the Awakening, or indeed anything about handling a situation when some other idiot calls upon something he can't put down.
Available elsewhere in the world as The Book of White Magic for close on £25 in some stores, this book - with identical wording to the more expensive tome - is available in a remainder bookstore in Chester for just two pounds.
I got myself a backup copy for the flat.
Now I don't have to worry about the copy I carry around with me getting too damaged. Wear and tear are pretty much the sorry lot of the stuff in my possession, and I do a lot of research into the subject while patrolling.
Another up: I regularly talk to the young security woman in the bus depot. Today, I just told her that my ride was coming in, so I was off - and wished her a nice weekend. She smiled back at me. I see her regularly, but she rarely so much as acknowledges my existence.
I know, chatting up multiple women at once. I'm shameless.
Remember; Goetia? Batting for the bad team?
Well. Sort of. I'm a Chaotician. A Trickster. I'll bat for whichever side I choose. Or bat for no side at all. Or sit down and play poker where everyone else is playing chess.
"Ooh. The Velikovsky Gambit. I'll see your gambit and raise you ..."
Now the only question shall be, when to call this woman whose number I have. Sunday night, perhaps. :)
Other moments:-
- Thinking about the authors
lucien_soulban, innocent_man, weaver42, jesshartley and dandelionclock. Thinking how each author has his style, and thinking that innocent_man's is most reminiscent of roleplaying in Ray Bradbury's America.Remembering the line "Even trees rent by lightning may bear new fruit" from the Code of Ananda and remembering that the Code was written by
satyrblade.Remembering every single one of the ten commandments of the Code of Ananda, and realising that I still knew them off by heart even though I haven't thought about the Cult of Ecstasy for years.
Reading about the Rite of Summoning Lucifuge Rofocale in the middle of St Peter's Church By The High Cross, the little church in the centre of Chester where they used to muster for pilgrimages to Rome. Yes, I was reading a book on summoning The Devil in a church.
It might have more than its share of dreams crushed like bugs under the wheels of a truck, but damn my life has its moments.
Addendum: I just texted her now. And she responded. Only briefly, but she did respond. Let's hope this is the start of something fun.
