Confessions of an American Witch

In her attempts to get gold stars for her decision to nuke my Mormon wife out of my life, Khari made it clear that she thought I would be a bad father. Announcer, please . . .  How to produce an artistic genius--slide one   "Weighing in at six pounds, six ounces, we have the Riverside Shakespeare . Know the first line to that poem, or song, then this is the book for you--it has the indexes. Heavy, too. Raise a daughter hefting this once a month, and you build Supergirl , able to crush bricks." During my community college years (my 40s), me and another parent of a daughter got exposed to the idea that the way to keep Shakespeare (or any great author) alive in your memory was constant refreshment.  We had a professor who read a Shakespeare play a month. Toss in the Homer and the Milton from the class, and her daughter was sure  to have exposure to classic literature. I know that at least one kid grew up in a more enriched environment, thanks to that idea. I know becaus...

In the official godform creation sheets provided to newly elected Hierophants worldwide, the Forty-Two Assessors of the Judgement are described as "Various Heads and Colors." A papyrus from the times of the Greek-Roman Egyptians . . . good times. Meanwhile, there is that prick who is using this as his source Image Papyrus. With Westcott's Names. Add in a modern translation, and a decent victim, off we go boom! How can you not love this papyrus? Damaged as it is. All dolled up. Maybe used in ritual once or twice.  All in good causes, we swear. Having declared a Mash-Up weekend, where would I get if I do exactly that:  NOM's 42 Judges' Names plus Images=xyz? What direction do we read in?  Osiris, the most important symbol of the setting, telling us to read Left to Right; so we will designate the Leftmost Assessor to be Number One.  And in this papyrus, he has a human-head. As he does in the Papyrus of Ani. Usekh-nemtet, you are good to go, as soon as we figure out t...

As a psychic, I am sure that Dharma and her overlord, our Commander-in-Rage, Judas Trump, have wondered how practical my study book would be for combat magick. Not a weapon in sight. Honestly, if I had to bug out for the Aliens are here, I would not be reaching for my big old study book. No, it would be the lighter book on top. Peek inside. Go on . . .  I have been found clean of sin, Osiris and Thoth. I have not profited from grain shortages. I have not reduced rations. I have not belittled the god of my city.  I have not made impure the waters of the temples. I have not stolen the offerings of the gods. I have not disputed the rightful king of the nomes.  I have not slain the sacred cattle. I have not poisoned the ears of serfs. I have not increased the rents of the priests. Call this my Zombie Day--Book of Shadows. Honestly, the big fancy Book of Shadows are great for lodge and OFM (Open Full Moon) work; but as an experienced slinger of the mystic arts, I planned ahead...

"Attention personal of International Lunar Police Force District House Thirteen, your boss says that the following is a moon map from the 1990s, possibly Dragon Magazine ." Here is a crime scene photo . . . thanks Homer. "Win a date with Homer Milton Dante, the cuddliest astromarine on the moon by solving what this moon map originally looked like before some gamer, a RPGer cut it apart." Looks like it was originally four printed pages . . . if it was a magazine . . . fair bet. Whether it was Dragon  is the question. Between the comic book store, later that Barnes and Noble's newsstand, I brought a lot of non-D&D (Dragons and Dungeons) magazines. Science fiction.  Some Doctor Who   related, so this could be from that strange world.  Or not from a legit press at all, but some artifact from the Small Press/ Amateur Press world. It could be something from one of those old gaming APAs (Amateur Press Associations). But given the print quality, I am guessing legiti...

For those who have been following the Cloud Weather Station Drama, yesterday bird sighting in the Buddha Worship Lounge, was an slightly wounded female magpie. Best chair for keeping an eye out for that evil Hood Cat, Blue. My intent in moving the chairs was to make a clear line of sight between the kitchen window and the Buddha station--in front of which I placed a bowl of water.  Don't judge me, for my mixed pagan magician beliefs and practices. Turns out that the arrangement was bad for human vision. But I was loading the dishwasher, and that might have been more important. Because I want to go write science fiction, and the kitchen being a mess is going to stop the Flow at some point.  I am a Virgo Sun, Cancer Rising, Scorpio Moon, with a Leo Mercury . . . my only Fire.  To say that I am overly "anything" is probably an understatement. It was slightly better when I still had my Demon; I had distance between me and the emotions. Now, I am at the center of the bloody cr...

Some people are born farmer's sons in America; some are the nephew of Gardnerian Wiccans--and imagine that in 1965 Nebraska . . . yeah, I was born demonic. My witchy aunt represented America to me. My aunt, Victoria Josephine Ramalia, declared me, a reincarninated witch, just like herself. She hated children--yet loved me. This mystified my mother. I loved my aunt.  One of my prize possessions, the first thing I made sure to recover the one time I returned home for Christmas after my military escape, was my Red Piggy Bank that she gave me. A ruling question of my childhood was "Why can the Christians have their Ten Commandments at the county courthouse; and not us, our Horned God?"  At age thirteen, I consciously chose the religion of witchcraft . . . in part to be like Vickie. Then in my freshman semester of high school, my aunt got murdered.  And my family, in their grief, blamed it on her religion. I got broom closeted. Satanist. That is what my religion became. And my...

Science fiction fans like to talk about how Star Wars changed their lives.  For me, it was Ghostbusters. The Original. It was my first year of freedom away from evil Mother Lilith, and explained my entire world . . . including the fact that my dead dad was my roommate.  Problem was in my movie, my Ghostbusters, it was Denver that got nuked. And I was the Containment Unit that went critical. You see, by 1984, I already hosted a murder victim, my own aunt. As well as several other ghosts. And then there is Wolfgang--what the fuck is he? Let's just call him, a Demon. Moving on, today, I live with a Ghost Wife. Walnut Hill Alchemy might be owned by ghosts. Long story short: For the newer readers, and the More Beloved Sister who once asked "What happened to my sweet innocent Brother?" Here is maybe an answer, or not. My Theosophic Confederate Nazi spirit medium grandparents, one summer, in that "abandoned tree garden," exposed me to a Demon. Nice people, the Ramses. ...