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I love prompts like this because they’re just so vague. Do I have limitations? What happens if I die in the swapped body? When you say “day”, do you mean the whole 24 hours or just sunrise to sunset? Could I extend the swapped period by doing everything from a plane flying east? Anyway. For…
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When the camera first caught on in society, a trend appeared: death photography. The folks who prepped the body for this trend were excellent at making you believe the person was alive. Nothing but a strange, dead gleam in their eyes gave them away. We’re a long way from hefty cameras on tripods now. My…
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I took a class on obsidian with the wonderful Curanderismo Lisa Martinez (who teaches this class through the RitualCravt online school, should you be interested in learning about the metaphysical properties and history of obsidian yourself). I was expecting a class on scrying techniques, on ritual, instead what I received was a primer on the…
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I laughed when I saw this prompt. A despair-anguish kind of laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. I’m American. American born, American raised, in the American Wild West. For a while, I’d dress in my red-white-and-blues for the fourth of July and cover my ears to watch the fireworks. Indulge in a burger or hotdog from…
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Many occult signs are simply a matter of training your brain to notice certain things in your surroundings. Your eyes linger on the hawk circling above you (longer than usual, in my case), you notice the way the coyote’s eyes flash while it crosses the road in front of your car, you’ll spot graffiti you…
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Monday. Tired as I am, the world feels wide awake. The sun is warm and I can almost smell vanilla in the air. Today I Can: Breathe Deeply Alarm for 11:30 Appointment at 2:00 Wonder AloudTuesday. The sun is out today, but the brightness of morning hurts my eyes. Something stinks like gasoline. Today I…
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We don’t outgrow the things we love, not like a plant outgrows the pot its in. These things simply fall away from us when we no longer need them. Less like a too-small shirt and more like pine needles that drop off in the winter. They can always grow back. I can always pick up…
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This is an age of polished media. I’ve talked about it before in my review of Videodrome, on how the polish often paints over the grime and devalues the time put into something imperfect. I pick apart and apart and apart my crochet projects because I’ve missed a stitch, misread the pattern, and the project…
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My first computer — the first one I have clear memories of, anyway — was an off-white boxy monitor running Windows 98 on a dial-up connection. The dial-up didn’t last long, though. My whole family had to use the internet connection, and in those days my mom was still on top of her computer science…
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Paint a picture of the American West for me. Paint me sprawling yellow deserts and blue mountains reaching to the heavens, arches of red rock and dusty ghost towns beneath stone spires. Draw me the abandoned mine shafts, the long lonely highways. I want to hear the sad twang of guitar between that night sky…
from the pen of icarus blake 