Masterful: completion nears

I have begun writing part six of six, which is entitled “he wasn’t yours: sublime serpent, come forth.”

As I get closer to finishing Masterful: Severus Snape, a Jar of Cockroaches, and Me, my most gratifying and important work to date, I am filled with exhilaration and a sense of personal triumph.

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This book is the culmination of the past fifteen years of my life. In a broader sense, however, it’s been a lifetime in the making.

This book is a Snape-infused memoir. I write about Severus Snape in a way that has never been done before, in a bold and often shocking manner. As one person who’s read the first draft has said, “It left me speechless.” She also said, “There are so many people I want to recommend your book to” and “Gives me so much to think about. Again, wow.”

In this book, I also write about living with PTSD, about the legacy of domestic violence, which is what I witnessed during my entire childhood and adolescence, about leaving Judeo-Christianity and Orthodoxy in particular, about revering oneself, about emancipation and personal power, about saying “no” to bullshit, about putting one’s existence and what one loves first and foremost. I write about having an infernal worldview, about the symbolic light-bearer and his (our) “live deliciously” stance.

I am no-holds-barred in this book. And I’m just getting started. There will be another Snape-themed book after this one.

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My Patreon continues to grow, to my immense joy. I’ve spent the past year refining it, and now it’s precisely what I want it to be. Once Masterful is published, I’ll be spending a great deal of time writing essays for it: infernal thoughts for infernal people. A few of these will be public, but the majority will be Members Only.

One of the excellent people who recently became a member is my longtime friend and extremely talented artist Ben Wu, who just started his own Patreon. I highly recommend you join it, and mine as well.

Ben Wu Loves You: is creating Letters, zines, books, and a little bit of chaos

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Logospilgrimis creating infernal books, essays, and art for discerning individualists

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Ben really gets what Patreon is all about. As he wrote to me, “Having experienced the Patreon venue through your page opened my eyes. It is more intimate and helps me be in the moment. Unlike the endless memes and static of facebook and instagram. Both of which, too, have rules that make it hard to be seen without having to pay them for a sponseres spot.”

I’m still unable to comment and like IG posts from my desktop, and my disgust with that platform is absolute. Unlike what they claim, it isn’t designed to be “social media.” In actuality, it’s an inherently passive exposure to advertisement: if you participate “too much” or “too quickly,” you’re not doing what they want you to, namely, providing the free content that enables them to determine the advertisement you’re supposed to stare at and respond to, you’re troublesome, expendable; content and activity that doesn’t fall within “good consumer” parameters is undesirable.

Furthermore, they have no respect for their users whatsoever. If you “break” one of their so-called rules, if you don’t dance according to their tune (whatever it even is), they don’t contact you, they won’t tell you how you dared to offend them, and contacting a living person at IG is impossible. When I was researching the matter, I saw countless people desperate to get their accounts back, or desperately trying to figure out why they were blocked from commenting. The advice they got was along the lines of, “whatever you do, don’t upset the mighty IG further. Just be good, stop doing anything at all there for a while, cower a bit, and hope you’ll eventually regain their favor.” If you’re not what advertisers prefer, you might as well not exist.

It’s enough to make you want to throw up. As I wrote on Twitter, I don’t like being treated like shit as a rule, so they can suck my balls.

Just when I thought I couldn’t despise FB more, lo, I despise it more.

It’s very likely that I’ll delete my IG account in the not too distant future.

As a result of all this, I’ve been using Twitter more. As nutty as Twitter can be, it’s less restrictive. It’s possible to make lists there, it’s easy to block problematic people instantly, it’s much easier to have exchanges, there’s less censorship. The most eccentric and creative people tend to be on Twitter.

My main focus will increasingly be my Patreon.

As Ben wrote to me, “You’ve given a lot of yourself through your writing and art and I have, too. I think folks would probably appreciate things more if they pay in some way.” I couldn’t agree more. I’ve shared my work, my writing, my life, for over a decade. It was time for a platform like Patreon for me. I am worth what I do and give. In Ben’s words, “I’m glad your Patreon helped give you the encouragement needed. It means a lot to have visible, tangible evidence of people’s faith in you and what you do.”

Masterful wouldn’t have come into being without all the changes I’ve been through, without the evolution that now gives me the ability to say, “My work, my time, my creativity have value, and I won’t settle for anything less than respect and appreciation.”

The more I grasped this and esteemed myself, the more I defined my Patreon, my goals for it, and what I wanted to share there. When I was going through some of the most difficult times of my life these past couple of years, it was Patreon that kept my eyes on the prize of writing and publishing new books, of creating. Of asserting and affirming myself.

I have emerged from my recent trials a fiercer, stronger, more passionate and determined individual, and my work is reflecting this. If those who read what I write are fiercer and have more reverence for themselves because of my words, all the better. Responsibility to the responsible.

Those who contribute to my time, efforts, and endeavors will fully savor the forbidden fruit of my time, efforts, and endeavors. Those who enjoy what I do, who participate and contribute, I treasure. At another time in my life, I would have thought, “How dare I ask for such things?” but now, I dare. Millions of dollars are poured into the coffers of the bland mega corporations of mass entertainment; a dollar per month basic access fee for my original, risqué, innovative content, for my dark magic, is definitely more than fair. It’s a fine privilege.

For a number of years, I let myself be an All You Can Eat Buffet; now, I’m devoting myself to my VIPs. I still give, but I ask as well. Hail Satan!

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There’s no place online like Patreon now, and that’s where the bulk of my online activity is.

As Ben puts it, “When IG cut its shine and I checked out your Patreon… as I said above, it changed me and I felt like I’d found a pleasantly wicked corner of the internet, a place to hang my horns, and I haven’t felt that way in years.” This mirrors my feelings about Patreon exactly.

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Do you know what feels good? Not taking shit. Knowing your worth. Knowing who’s good for you. Being your best self and living your best life.

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Ovum Malus essay

This essay is Ovum Malus tier content re: Patreon.

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bad egg, know your strength

Ugly duckling. Black sheep. Bad egg.

Goat.

Those are the words often used to label unusual people. Individuals. Outsiders.

They’re used against you because you don’t do what you’re supposed to do. You don’t look the right way. You’re not where you should be—invariably, where everyone else is.

When you speak, you say improper things. Your thoughts don’t reflect the general consensus.

When you do agree with a popular opinion, it’s for personal reasons, for careful reasons of your own choosing, not because you fear standing apart, not because you’ve been swept along by the common tide.

When the crowd is marching with pitchforks and torches, you’re in your lair sipping a beverage, observing the chaos from a wise distance. Or you’re simply ignoring it.

Frequently, that’s the worst thing you can do: be silent.

You have to be vocal (as long as what you say is what must be said).

You can bet that whatever you say will be problematic, one way or another, for those who demand your participation, your words, your energy.

So you decline the invitation, devote yourself to that which stimulates, sustains, and interests you.

How dare you not join in the group activity? How dare you stand out?

Standing out sometimes involves withdrawal.

Remember your egg, Cunning Serpents. There are times when the tough shell is required for recuperative interludes, self-preservation, and creative endeavors. Your shell houses the tranquility, the fuel that zealots or psychic vampires would steal from you to build their kingdoms because they lack the ability and inner resources to provide their lives with meaning.

Abusers, psychic vampires, and busybodies of all varieties will accuse you of being “bad” for not doing what they wish you to do. They desire the heat of your reactions to spark and feed their hearths, which are cold and empty without you.

I reject their madness and treasure the warmth of my shell.

Use your egg to its full advantage and you’ll soon be left alone by the ravenous and compulsive, who’ll quickly turn their attention to sources of nourishment that are less effort, easier to obtain. Fortunately for us, the ripe fields of the provoked, the ignorant, and the guilt-ridden are abundant and ready for consumption.

This is why knowledge, self-care, and self-reverence are so vital for one’s well-being and a successful, pleasurable life. When battle is necessary, we break from our bad egg shells and strike with fangs and venom, to the astonishment of the ones who wanted to prey upon us.


As I just wrote on Twitter, every day I feel more and more like the vampire couple in Only Lovers Left Alive, except in a 70s lair. This will be reflected on my Patreon, the Society of Cunning Serpents.

Back in 2015, when I wrote There’s a Hula Girl on my Dashboard, I had finally extirpated myself from the life-sucking muck of Judeo-Christianity… almost. I was a “secular humanist.” In that book, I wrote about my religious experiences, and there was something along the lines of “if your system doesn’t include everyone, I am not interested in your system.” I am no longer of that mind at all. The reason I believed this nonsense was because of Judeo-Christianity’s false universalism, which I’d rejected. Its false elitism, which was more like a selective approval of mediocrity. If you were in the least eccentric, if you asked too many questions, if you went beyond the prescribed limits… you were excluded from the “universal embrace.”

What I’ve learned since then—what I’ve known since childhood, actually—is that there is no such thing as a “universal embrace.” In addition, it’s a deeply unhealthy and harmful notion. As I wrote in Masterful, PTSD had given me an almost superhuman ability to withstand bullshit, though I wasn’t fully aware of it until fairly recently. This ability, often a source of strength and resilience, also made me vulnerable to vampires of the death cult variety. When I was a child, boundaries were forbidden by the pater horribilis, though I maintained mine anyway; the consequence, however, was an unconscious weak point, that of allowing myself to give too much of my time, energy, and self to all and sundry, in a mistaken attempt to bestow upon myself the acceptance and respect I’d been denied.

I give myself the acceptance and respect I need, and this doesn’t require that I accept and respect “everyone.” Not only am I finished with Judeo-Christian lies, I’m finished with humanistic goo as well.

There is a fine sort of elitism, as a matter of fact. It states its exclusionary practices outright, and doesn’t mask them with a deceitful and delusional “universal love” stance, which only serves to subdue and deplete the ones it claims to love.

I don’t expect anyone to be perfect; I make compromises. But those who benefit from these compromises are the ones who love me and accept I’m not perfect either. I no longer give to all and sundry. I’m discerning. Not everyone deserves my time, energy, self, and love. I share such things with those of my choosing, those who also contribute to my existence in delightful ways. Creative, interesting, appreciative individuals who have the intelligence and self-resourcefulness to know that no one is always there.

This is my elitism, and my life is better, more joyful, more productive, and more vibrant for it.

Guard your life like the precious treasure that it is.

step forth, Cunning Serpents

Masterful will soon be completed. I’m at work on part five of six. I’ll be in the editing process in September.

September… Am I the only one who’s excited about autumn? Definitely not.

In other news, my activity on Instagram will now be minimal.

I’ve felt ambivalent about that platform for some time (especially since it’s been owned by Faceborg). Generally, I prefer using my desktop, and Instagram makes this barely possible. A few days ago, I was suddenly blocked from liking posts and commenting on them while using my desktop. No reason given. I could “report” the message if I thought it was unwarranted, not that a single thing resulted from these so-called reports. I could, however, continue liking posts and commenting on them if I was using my dumbphone.

I did some research and read that Instagram was blocking me because I had liked too many posts in too short a time (right), and it suspected me of being a “bot.” This block “punishment” typically lasted between 24 to 48 hours. Well, if I wished to use my desktop, that is.

I call bullshit. Guess what I can’t see at all when I’m using my desktop to look at my Instagram feed? Advertisement. Am I not really being “punished” for failing to do what I’m supposed to be doing on Instagram, being fodder for advertisers? No wonder the platform won’t allow you to post photographs from your desktop.

Instagram cares about your content insofar as it’s useful to advertisers (most of whom live in the 1950s and are terrified of female nipples). Otherwise, they don’t give a fuck about you. They couldn’t care less about creativity. Case in point: it’s impossible to contact Instagram to find out what their sudden, cryptic “blocked” message is all about, and their “help” pages are absolutely useless.

And let’s not even bring up the algorithm factor.

So, fuck it. I don’t need this garbage.

When I publish a new book, I’ll post a photo of it on Instagram, and that will be the extent of my activity on that platform.

I continue sharing links to my work, and retweeting the occasional, interesting 70s-oriented image, and keeping in touch with a few people on Twitter (a platform where there is more freedom), but my activity there is greatly reduced compared with my earlier Twitter days.

This is better. It’s increased my well-being.

Since I stopped using Instagram, I feel less tense. And I didn’t even use it that much.

As I’ve mentioned before, those platform are designed to keep you on them for as long as possible, as often as possible. To accomplish this, they instill a kind of anxiousness when you’re not using them, when you’re not keeping up with them and “neglecting” people you hold dear. It’s quite insidious. What if someone close to you posts something important, and you miss it? Get back on the platform, quick!

Instagram is a “free” platform, except it isn’t. It feeds on you, and exploits your friendships. It siphons your time and energy.

I’m done with this noxious, corporate social media culture.

From now on, my online focus will be my Patreon, and this website. I’ve recently revamped my Patreon, which is where I’ll be sharing photos, news, essays, and more, on a regular basis.

Here are my Patreon tiers:

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Some posts will be public, but most won’t.

I’ve had this Patreon creator account for over a year, and it took me a while to figure out how to use it (not to mention that I was dealing with a number of crises and exhausting situations), but now… Now I’m truly up and running, and feeling excellent about it.

One of the things I recently shared on Patreon was exclusive news about an upcoming book. The cover of said book will be funded in part by my patrons, who are members of my Society of Cunning Serpents. The essays I write all deal with living like the god you are, which takes self-knowledge, productive pride, and a powerful inner core. I write about living deliciously, living boldly, living in accordance with what is most important to you. There is a price to pay for this, without a doubt. But I for one wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you’re a member of the Left Hand Path, you can also find me on Undercroft.

And now, back to Masterful.

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Masterful: halfway mark achieved

Things are pretty damn good.

First, my 50th birthday was splendid. Presents, buttercream laden cake, quiet activities that gave my introvert self the greatest pleasure.

I took many portraits to commemorate this event. I had fun with wigs, undergarments, Mozartian and Snapian themes.

And now I’m going to share a bunch of them.

I am 50, hear me roar. Wearing a gorgeous polished silver Baphomet sigil by iSatanist.

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I do the boy thing, I do the girl thing. I do my thing.

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I do the Snape thing. Here wearing my robes, as well as a fine Bone White Baphomet sigil by Satanme.

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I do the Mozart thing. Betsey Johnson undergarments.

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Here with a fabulous inverted pentagram, also available from Satanme (one side red, the other black, perfect for my disco lifestyle).

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I have fun these days. More fun than I’ve ever had. I do what I want, how I want.

I’m fairly recovered from the flooding mayhem of last spring. Today, the river levels are at 57.98. We’re approaching August, one of my favorite months of the year because everything is so slow and quiet; that’s also when one can sense autumn around the corner… This month, we endured several intense heat waves (yesterday, with the humidex factor, we hit close to 115º Fahrenheit—madness. Thank fuck we have central air conditioning in this house).

Still, I feel really, really good.

Yesterday, I hit the halfway mark re: Masterful. Working on this book is so phenomenally satisfying… My most personally gratifying work to date. As I wrote on Twitter, “I write because it gives me pleasure, because it’s in my blood. If my work also helps like-minded individuals live deliciously, all the better.”

I’m not fucking around in this book, let me tell you.

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After I publish Masterful in September, I’m getting back to work on Wolfgang, A Fantasy, and I can’t wait. Apart from Wolfgang and Antonio Salieri (among others), this novel will feature the Gentleman Downstairs who will do wondrous things, and a grim Archbishop (guess which one) who will try to do terrible things.

Favorite drinking vessel, by Satanme, here featured with an exquisite statue of Lucifer the Light-Bearer.

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Stay tuned for more deliciousness.

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Masterful: September

I will soon be halfway through the first draft of Masterful.

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The book is flowing. This is one of my most satisfying writing projects up to now.

The other day, I took test photos of my new Snape wig. I hacked away at it with scissors for a while before I began snapping pictures to see how the wig would look on camera, and I experimented with light.

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Mystery is the quintessence of Severus Snape, the Prince of Snakes.

A real photo session will take place soon. It’s been years since my friend Diane and I did a shoot featuring the robes.

I haven’t been crafting much; it’s time consuming, and my time is currently devoted to the book, recuperation, relaxing on the front porch with a journal, doing a few select things with a few select people every now and then, a small circle of friends, because I honor my need for introversion and tranquility more than I ever have. I enjoy the times I spend with those close to me, but I need long periods of solitary home quietude between those times, and that’s perfectly fine.

I said in a previous post, “it’s not all about writing for me now,” though it is—and not. Because I also take care of myself now, I take care to relax, to have my life, as it were. I write, I savor the process, then I stop, I sink into the couch, watch movies, enjoy my pleasant surroundings. I have excellent, wonderful meals and riveting discussions with my beloved spouse who’s as introverted as I am. I add more toys to my collection and delight in them.

Be important to yourself, treat yourself well, with respect, honor yourself, and you will live a good life.

These days, I’m living my best life.

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Speak of the Devil interview, Rubber Clown Car album release (oh, and spring sucked boy did it ever)

It’s been a while since I posted a “what’s going on” update, because as tough as winter was this year, spring has been… well, I’d say it was ten times worse.

In 2017, we had a “once in a hundred years” flood in Quebec and Ontario. Guess what happened again this year, except it was an even more massive catastrophe?

I wish I were kidding, but I’m not.

Two major floods occurred in the 70s, two years apart; I sincerely hope another forty years go by before history repeats itself.

In 2017, the river levels in my area peaked at 60.44 metres. 60.24 metres is where “exceptional flooding” levels begin.

This year, the river peaked on May 1st at 60.70 metres. It then receded a bit, and peaked again about a week later at 60.61 metres.

Our home didn’t get flooded in 2017, but this year, I was terrified it would. When the situation intensified, army vehicles were going up and down the street. Firemen knocked on all the doors in the neighbourhood, handing out “what to do in case your house floods and you have to leave” pamphlets. The rain kept pouring, and it was windy and bitterly cold. A veritable all-you-can-puke buffet of misery. On the news, we would learn that a dike had failed, flooding a town; that a dam might fail in another part of Quebec. States of emergency everywhere. Evacuations.

My neighborhood is actually quite a distance away from the river itself, but this year we experienced an unparalleled event.

My PTSD symptoms skyrocketed. I took my emergency backpack out of my closet and I had a suitcase and the cat carrier by the door, in case things quickly degenerated. I wept on the shoulders of neighbours. The stress and anxiety went on for weeks.

But my portion of the street is on higher ground, and the water stopped about a block away. The transversal street, farther down, and another nearby street got badly flooded, being lower than we are.

I wrote more extensively about all that was going on over on my Patreon.

Suffice it to say, it was phenomenally exhausting. On a few occasions, I felt like I was about to lose my mind. I wasn’t able to perform as Charlie at my teacher’s show because at that point, the floods were worsening and I began feeling seriously unwell. Sitting by the window, I saw city vehicles carrying load after load of sand bags all day long.

Let me tell you, I smoked a lot of cannabis to manage my exacerbated PTSD. It helped me remain at least partially calm. I noted down the river levels, checked the city’s Twitter account, refreshed my dumbphone for the latest local news. For a while, that was all I was able to do.

This morning, the river levels here are at 60.25 metres; we’re about to go down from “exceptional flooding” to “major flooding”—and it’s a huge improvement. This week, the sun will shine, the temperature will at last start becoming seasonal…

Right now, city vehicles are beginning to remove some of the sand bag piles.

I can’t begin to describe what an incredible relief it is to have things going back to normal, though it will take another couple of weeks before the river is once again within its banks.

I’m going to rest and take care of myself this summer. I will be writing Masterful this summer as well, but this reclusive hermit crab will be quieter and even more reclusive than usual.

Last week, I began playing my violin again, and oh, how good it felt. While the flooding was going on, I couldn’t play. I could hardly concentrate on anything.

At the moment, I’m recovering and recuperating.

Yesterday, though, I did something that required more energy, but it was a wonderful thing: I was interviewed by the charming and urbane Reverend Campbell on his show Speak of the Devil.

I promised him I’d be on camera next time; this time, speaking was the most I could manage. I think I succeeded in being somewhat articulate, despite my going in a dozen different directions (typical), now and then losing sight of the connections I was attempting to make (typical!). This is one of the reasons my preferred mode of expression/communication is the written word: I ponder quietly for quite some time, and my thoughts flow more smoothly, in greater detail and depth, when I write than when I speak (especially spur of the moment speaking). But Adam is such a lovely individual and gifted interviewer, he made it easy. Time went by quickly, and we could only touch upon much of what we discussed!

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You can listen to the entire interview here:

In other news, you can now purchase the latest trippy Rubber Clown Car album; it features some vocals I contributed (Sleep Tight duet, and the intro on Action Brats). You can also get it on Bandcamp.

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In coming weeks, I’ll be focusing on Masterful, on Patreon posts and second/third tier envelopes, and I’ll be doing a couple of photo sessions (my 50th birthday is coming up in June, so I want to take new portraits to celebrate)… I’ll also focus on tranquility, playing my violin, enjoying my lair, creating art (such as getting back to my clay).

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creativity, variety, serenity

Spring… It’s almost here. Sort of. There are still a few mounds of snow and ice in front of the house, but at least when I come home now, it’s starting to feel a bit less like I’m entering the Bat Cave, North Pole edition.

The weather has stabilized, which has been extremely good for my nerves.

Lately, my levels of creativity have reached all-time highs. Which has also been extremely good for me overall.

One of my macramé wall-hangings has become part of the fabulous décor at one of the best record stores in town, The Record Centre (photos soon). It’ll be displayed next to a rad vintage painting.

This is the macramé in question:

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And the macramé art piece below is now for sale at The Record Centre. If you live in the Capital Region, add some serenity to your home with a lovingly crafted, hand-made macramé, and grab a few excellent records while you’re at it:

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Knots are also symbolic of protection. A home with macramé is a happy home.

In addition, The Record Centre has its own label and produces records you’ll find nowhere else. I’ve been playing the atmospheric, trippy record Water Sine by Nick Schofield non-stop since I acquired it last week.

This week, I experimented with painting my clay figurines and I’ve worked out the best way to do it. Stay tuned for a lot more clay art; my Patreon members will have first dibs on these pieces.

Here’s my first petit lapin bonheur, a good fortune bunny, with its strawberry. I’m keeping this one.

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Petit lapin bonheur quite at home with my vintage toys:

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Each petit lapin will come with a tiny treat.

Here’s another prototype eg; this one I’m keeping as well. It’s so relaxing to look at, and I love its tranquil presence on my desk. I only added glaze to this one. The next batch will feature small rosy cheeks, and the image on the back will add another touch of color.

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Working with cord and clay has infused my life with a great deal of joy. It’s extremely fulfilling. It’s no longer all about writing for me. It’s not the end all be all. The variety of my endeavors has increased my creativity and well-being. I’m not always “in my head” anymore. I do a lot of journal writing of course, but that’s different; my own pleasure is the sole objective. I’ve slowed down as far as publishing books goes. My current goal is to publish a new book every year or every other year. I’m no longer slave-driving myself to produce books, or promote my books (oh how that sucks)…

My existence has many more layers to it now. It’s much better.

Another immensely important level of creativity has been the violin.

Last week, my teacher surprised me by informing me that the show he’d told me about a few months ago was going to happen at the end of April. I kind of thought (hoped, haha) that he’d been too busy to have a show this spring, that it would take place at some hazy, indistinct point in the future… But not only is it happening, he asked me to do the animation (hand out programs and look adorable) as Charlie. I played “Smile” for him again, and he said, “Yes, that’s definitely what you’ll play. We’ll have one white spotlight on you and it’s going to be fantastic.”

That evening, while I was practicing, I began playing a piece from Chaplin’s Sunnyside by ear, from memory. A couple of days later, I searched for the Sunnyside soundtrack online, and discovered that this piece is called “Forgotten” and I’d been playing it exactly note for note. It was a profoundly emotional moment for me.

Then, yesterday, I upgraded my violin, trading in my beginner’s instrument, which I’d had for over twenty years, for a glorious replacement. My old violin was made of plywood (as I learned while chatting with the owner of the music school where I take my lessons); the new one is made of real wood, and it has an exquisite, deep, rich, creamy sound. It has a gorgeous matte finish, and came with a stupendous case. While I waited for Gilles to return with said case, I tuned the violin by ear. Once the instrument was secure in its velvet nest, I embraced the case as it lay on the counter. I was overwhelmed by bliss.

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I ran into my teacher before I made my way back home. I exclaimed, “Come look!!” with grand, excited gestures. He was very impressed when he saw the violin, and his eyebrows shot up when I told him about the Chaplin piece I’d learned to play by ear.

I recently had a lovely meeting with a local artist (DoReMiBraceletsEtc) who fashions unique jewelry from guitar and violin strings. I had a few unused strings (they were in my now old violin case), and she created a beautiful rainbow bracelet for me as we had beverages at Café Mulligan.

She took a photo of it while I held my old violin:

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How neat it that! It’s so well-made, custom-made to fit my little narrow wrist, and I adore the happy rainbow beads.

In other news, I recently gave a tarot reading; it was wonderful. I’ll be giving another one at the end of the month. Reading the tarot is most enjoyable to me, and I look forward to increasing the frequency of my readings.

So, life has been good. Better than ever. More joyfulness soon.

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the knotting resumes

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After a long hiatus due to Life and Things, we’re finally, at long last back in business, baby.

Yesterday, I completed my latest macramé art wall-hanging. I’ll be giving this one to a friend; she has a tarot reading appointment with me next week.

It felt so utterly magnificent to be crafting macramé again. Everything came back to me instantly. I love knotting cord. It’s so soothing. Making macramé is like sculpting with cord. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t use patterns; I start knotting and follow my inspiration.

I prefer pieces with a great deal of knots. That’s macramé to me.

Instead of fraying the hanging cords completely, as I’ve usually done for previous wall-hangings, this time I only frayed part of the cords. It gave the piece a kind of plant-like appearance that really spoke to me.

I also used some of my precious vintage beads for this…

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