@SavahRellcast laughing my ass off right now at your post... your timing was exceptional... guess the cowboys hit the atmosphere sooner than I thought:
This month for my #FullMoonArt I've crocheted a tarot mat specifically for celtic cross readings. The different colored squares help to make connections between cards in these large readings. For example, the white ones are all future-based. I got this idea from @caribouslim, who made a cool tarot generator: https://pagan.plus/@caribouslim/111039327994613729
The colors of the cards made the core of the readings really clear for me, and I knew I wanted a physical one that I could place the cards on. I used whatever scrap yarns I had that worked together and added the black lines to mimic the craftsman-pop-art style of the RWS deck.
A long time ago, in a Portland far far away, there was a ritual the wild poets used to practice at Roxy's after midnight beneath the neon Jesus. It was dubbed #TagTeamPoetry.
The rules are simple, and resemble a rap battle. The first poet writes a verse (or a couple, depending on where the muse takes them). Then the next poet continues the work while the first drinks and smokes - taking the theme of the last line as inspiration for their addition. The second poet continues writing until they're thirsty or stuck, and passes it back to the first poet. This continues until they either run out of inspiration, intoxicants, energy, or both agree that the poem is complete. Last verse wins.
If you have more than two poets, teams of three or more are permitted, but be aware that this is a volatile sport that often results in brawls of extremely dangerous lyricism the more poets are involved.
There are no restrictions on style - you can respond to a novel's worth of rhyming iambic pentameter with a haiku if it fits. Duels are more than permitted within the context of the poetry, and often produce some of the best results.
Now I'm aware that most on the Fediverse are suspicious of poetry, and rightfully so. You never know when a strange line of verse will make you laugh, or cry, or question your existence - so I'll be pleasantly surprised if I find any participants this evening.
That being said, there's a huge potential on the platforms here to have the most massive #TagTeamPoetry battle of history, and to add hyperlinks and music and videos and all sorts of whatever crazy bells and whistles you want. Plus, it's #ThirstyThursday and the Guinness just doesn't taste right without a bit of spice, so I'm gonna take the risk of shitposting into the void and kick this one off. Free boosts and upvotes to those who dare to reply in kind...
Round one
Staring at the sun
because
The song of a holy pug Slipped inside the house
Setting eggs of inspiration a flower
A bower of Bedouins
surfing a timewave
as it crashed down into now
And how does the muse find you today?
Grumpy or frumpy or on the A train?
Are you in India? Egypt? Saskatchewan? France?
Do you wear lipstick? A mustache? Blue underpants?
Who the hell is out there that's got a lyrical soul?
There's no wealth for a miser who hoards the Fool's gold
So you may as well spill it and tell the untold
I don't care if you're shady, I don't care if you're slim
I don't care if you stutter your green M&Ms
I dare you to open your mouth and let the world in
'cause the silence of a poet's heart is a mortal sin
"Besides, if you don't, I win!"
squawked the crow, with a most beaky grin...
It was Wednesday when you posted, you drunken old bat
And Roxy's serves coffee to the gutterpunk rats
There's holes in your story, and your memory sings flat
Think maybe its time to stop hitting the flask?
As for me, I come from the trees
Oaks and redwoods and blackberry leaves
My heart sprouting mushrooms and bumblebees
Casting sunflower seeds
to the titmice and the chickadees
Sculpting the mist of the ocean breeze
into impossible possibilities
With songs all wrong and upside down
For I was hiding from Hekate in a crossroad town
Till a fae cat cast their myrhh all around
Now she's telling me she's up to get down
And I'd be a Fool to ignore the sound
of magick unbound
So here you go
you drunken old crow
Let the lyrics flow
Like a leopard across the snow
I have to admit I'm a little irritated that after periods of dormancy I will get unfollows on the socials if I go through a period of posting more shit. It at least made sense during my transition from more wiccalite pagan-y shit to AI art/technomancy shit that not everybody would be onboard with that. Now I just can't achieve a growth trajectory. I've done my best to be transparent that my online presence is for posting weird shit, yet I get unfollows when I post weird shit.
Your weird is the reason I follow you - it's of a rare and exquisite caliber, hitting that sweet spot between realities where the string theories sing fractal duets.
That being said, don't worry too about the recent drop in novelty levels and the subsequent fearful pedantry and dullness in the population at large as of late. The quantum trendline shows a riptide pull after the equinox, building up momentum like the tube of a wave, ready to crash right around Halloween with that Scorpio splashdown magick. And o'course, autumn always causes the dead leaves to fall, ready for the harvest bonfire and a ritual of rebirth. Makes it a good time for a savvy mage to do soul collecting and dream catching, and recapture energy spent on crops that didn't fruit.
But that all likely sounds like a bunch of blather chanted from the lips of a drunken medium, so I'll get to the point - the real question isn't if your followers are into weird - the question is whether or not you want the weird to follow you - and if so (and this is the crux of the matter), how much weird can you take?
@Mage_of_Aquarius Minor followup to the channeling above. I always get suspicious of uninvited messengers, so just to make sure it wasn't making me spout out my ass, I decided to check the numbers. And it does look like the Timewave Generator seems to support the pattern described above, using the Kelly number set.
Here's the sauce if you're looking to run your own numbers on McKenna's novelty framework:
"I'm the only one who knows the real truth and how the universe actually works" is such a standard type of guy by now that it's actually become very annoying. This type of guy doesn't even realize he sounds like an NPC himself because he decided on a frame of reality that satisfies the egoic impulse to be an extra special person with true insider information. The need for special info that puts one in a class of elite insiders is itself a form of addiction born of primitive and fearful instincts; the idea that the nature of this world is both very complex and an open question terrifies you, and so you engage in primitive accumulation of information, much of which may have zero actual grounding and merely satisfy your urge for pattern-matching.
One day, you are born. Someday, you will die. We don't really know what living is. We don't really know what dying is.
You don't know shit about anything. NPCs aren't real either and deciding on a framework of reality that robs others of their humanity actually makes you the worst type of person and fully lost in your own hypocrisy. You yourself demonstrate a lack of agentic qualities when you fail to remain curious and inquisitive about the conscious experience of the other beings you share your existence with. Drawing conclusions may present you with temporary utility that helps you navigate the current frame of your reality, but it also closes you off to the dynamic, ever-fluctuating and constantly evolving currents of experience. Take the gray pill and revel in the ambiguity that is the great Mystery* of our realm of shared being.
However, this is not a Skittles ad and your point is on point. The best conversation I ever had about painting was with a half-deaf redneck welder atop a moonlit waterfall. He loved Van Gogh.
There is no such thing as an NPC. All of the characters play - it just may take some time for them to trust enough to play with you.
No one will believe this, but that's ok. We'll couch it in a what if to make it easier to digest.
What if, when you brought your creative will to bear, the energy that drove you to create was bound in your creation? A piece of your soul woven into reality. What would that look like from the other side of veil?
What if I spoke to someone from the other side last night, and they said that these creations are alive? That they ripple like firefish on the surface of an obsidian pond, the poetry swimming with the music, slipping through art and magick in fractal schools of imagination, the brilliance of math waltzing with philosophy, storytelling a prophecy of infinite possibility.
What if they sang that the Akashic record is a living ecosystem of imagination when seen from the in-between? And that the most curious thing is that even as we create it, it creates us - our dreams brush it as we drift in sleep, our desire is born within it, and we ourselves are the result of the creative spark in our parents eyes (or thighs, as it may be)....?
And what if this is why the fractal elves (themselves woven of this weave) laugh at us when we cross the boundary - just as we laugh at NPCs and characters like Deadpool who break the 4th wall?
@khthoniaa I love that quote! It's eerily spot on - inspiring me to go and check out more of his work - minus Eraserhead tho - that's a movie that should only ever be watched once, and only if you don't value your sanity.
@REEL@khthoniaa Thanks! Sounds right up my alley - great choice for a Sunday afternoon. I also wanna give Lost Highway another rewatch - it's been two decades since I've seen it, but I remember it being excellent.
I have been reading Agrippa's TBOP chapter on auguries and am mighty tempted to write a web tool to help people make their way through some very confusing instructions. Would anybody be interested in that?
@arnemancy I would. While I'm unfamiliar with Agrippa's work except in passing, my own experiments with digitizing the Tarot were quite rewarding, and I'd be interested to see what you come up with.
Is every moment lived by an artist an instance of their art? Is every moment lived by any human an instance of their humanity? Where, when and how are these lines drawn? "Work friends" or "real friends"? #art#poetry#problems