Chapter ???-
Apr. 6th, 2005 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonExcerpts from the life of my imaginary alter ego.
Adam, trying not to think about it, goes over the menu for the 12th time in the last 20 minutes. Matching up the meal with the price, quiets temporarily the anxiety of his thoughts. He shifts impatiently in the booth, the blue plastic of his seat squeaks in the readjusting of his weight. He lights up his third cigarette and let's out a very loud stage sigh. But if Andre noticed, he made no sign of it, revealed no acknowledgment of Adam's hopes & fears that were being transmitted through his bloodshot eyes across the formica table of the diner. Andre turned another page in the Magickal Diary of Frater 23 aka Adam Last; grade minerval/probationer; Magickal motto: "Credo Querum absurdum" ~ "I believe because it is absurd". Adam is the latest member of the lodge Geburah, and in 22 days he will be it's last surviving member but for now...
"Technically speaking your doing fine..." Andre's dry voice comes so suddenly and softly that Adam almost misses it, his attention turned towards the window, directed at an old woman pushing a shopping cart down the length of shops that make up Magnolia St. Andre pauses to sip his now tepid coffee and returns his glance to the beaten up spiral notebook of Adam's Magickal Diary.
"Here we have you recording your time with pranayama on the date of
3/23/?? - um, lesse, 20 minutes of 8 counts in, 8 held, blah, blah, blah and over here we see you have recorded all the relevant details of your LBR of the P. the time, the weather, time since you last ate... yep technically we have everything here."
"But..." Adam says matching Andre's voice subconsciously.
"Heh. But, what we don't have Adam, is anything real."
They sit there quietly. Adam keeps his eye on the old womans progress. Then without turning in his seat or shifting his gaze.
"Is this gonna be one of those Grad school rants, y'know where you parrot whatever dead frog your professor was into at the time, and use it to talk down to me like I was some kinda asshole for not being in the academic loop?"
The hostility in Adam's tone shocks Andre out of his airy complacency.
"I'm sorry..."
Adam breaks off from the trajectory of the old woman, and trains in on Andre.
"C'mon man. 'Anything real'? The hell is that supposed to mean huh? I mean seriously you told me to do this in the..."
"Excuse me 'Told you'?"
"Yeah 'Told Me' to do this in first place. Go home, read it, do it and then put it down. That's what I did. So I don't see how that's not 'real'?"
"Well, yeah ok, but that's not what i'm..."
"Alright then. You wanted me to log the minutes. I did. End of story."
"That's not the problem."
"Well what is it then? That I didn't write a 5 page narrative on the 'Azure laden beauty of Nuit? Or maybe I didn't have some wonderful epiphany in my two weeks doing 'The great work' that might explain why I feel the need to dress up like an asshole outta've some 80's metal band from time to time?"
"Y'know maybe if you'd shut up for five seconds I could actually finish a sentence."
Adam does. There is a cease fire. An armitice is reached between them, witnessed only by the napkin dispenser, the ashtray and a bad marriage between two cups of coffee. An awkward air stirs in the slow moving fan above.
Andre removes his glasses and cleans an imaginary speck off the lenses. Adam picks up on the gesture, can see that this ritual has been performed ever since he was a kid. A nervous habit picked up by a parent or an emulated teacher. Adam checks himself with a long drag off the cigarette. He knew he was being an asshole even by his standards.
"Sorry man" he says finally "I get a lil' uptight when people read my shit, thas all."
Andre puts his glasses back on. Superman in reverse.
"What I mean Adam, if your done trying to play the Alpha Male with me..."
"Teh. Your one to be talking there Mr.'Master of the Temple'" Adam snorts.
"... What I mean" (says Andre refusing to bite the arguement bait and trying to quietly punch a hole in Adam's wall of attitude) "Is that there is no heart in these pages. Now yes, great, You've done the exercises just as we've told you and you've recorded each nuance down the to the letter." He hands Adam back the notebook."That's great and all but what i'm reading here is not an open record of an initiates growth, but rather what seems to be the workings of an assignment given to a bored child, one who is doing his 'Occult homework', going through the motions with neither interest or insight."
Adam is quiet. Lost in his thoughts. He picks up his soda and slurps the melted ice from the bootom of his cup through his straw. Andre's thin face watches him with no outward intrest, his glasses might as well be microscopes.
"Your a smart man" Andre says finally, a little more balls in the voice now, "That much is apparent. But what I don't know is the 'Why' Adam. Why do you want to join us?"
"Your the only lodge in Terminus..."
"Okay, but why do you want to join a lodge in the first place?"
Adam looks at him now, really looks at him, not seeing the stereotypical 20something with the long stringy hair, and the 'Soul Coughing' t-shirt he met a few weeks ago at a party he crashed. After a heated arguement about chaos magick and William Burroughs, Adam gave Andre his nickname: "The Magickal Mystrey Bore!". The name stuck and would often be mumbled after lodge meetings by the newer members. He see's now, that this is a man who has put a modicum of thought into his life, and maybe, just maybe should be treated as such.
"Look. Don't tell me why. That's fine. But at least ask yourself"
Most of these so called magicians ain't nothing but bullshit artists with piss for blood and a library instead of a life. Ask them sometime there m'man what it is they actually WILL, see why it is they put on the robes and mumble-vibrate their way through some poorly phrased latin & hebrew? Ask them the 'why' and you will see them for what they truly are Adam..." Carlos is whispering, across the miles and the years, in his ear.
"Right" Adam says getting up. Picking up his diary from the table, folding it in half and slipping it between his ECKO jeans, "I'm Out of here,bro. 93!"
"Think about it okay, Adam?"
Adam weighs the scales in the corner of his skull. Finally a relunctant shrug.
"Pffffff... alright, 93 then! Same time next week?" Andre asks as Adam makes his way for the door. Adam replies with a nod, a nod that answers yes to not only Andre's question, but at the same time also acts as a signal to the waitress who is approaching their table, a nod saying to leave the check with Andre. Adam always took a certain pride in slipping out of the bill the way Houdini slipped from the chains. It was done out of one part entertainment,and another part pure philosophy- the subversive wink, giving props to the Zen Coyote God, Eshu hat trick and Hermes hand jive.
Adam took the shock of recognition on Andre's face when he see's the bill was suddenly thrusted on his table, and the fact that Adam had now had a very, very expensive brunch before Andre arrived became clear to him. Adam winks at Andre as he passes him by the booth in the window he was just staring out of. A "Schadenfreudian slip" as Skinhead Dave would warn him. The one weakness in Adam's hustle was the need to rub the hustle in the marks face.
"Bon Appetite there Frater Adonai, Master of the Temple!" Adam mouths the words mutely to Andre. Who is too busy searching his wallet franticly now.
"Do what thou wilt mother fucker... just remember there ain't no such thing as a free lunch." Adam strolls down Magnolia St, whistling a song he's forgotten the name of, with the rest of his day spread open before him, like the legs of a lover waiting.
Adam, trying not to think about it, goes over the menu for the 12th time in the last 20 minutes. Matching up the meal with the price, quiets temporarily the anxiety of his thoughts. He shifts impatiently in the booth, the blue plastic of his seat squeaks in the readjusting of his weight. He lights up his third cigarette and let's out a very loud stage sigh. But if Andre noticed, he made no sign of it, revealed no acknowledgment of Adam's hopes & fears that were being transmitted through his bloodshot eyes across the formica table of the diner. Andre turned another page in the Magickal Diary of Frater 23 aka Adam Last; grade minerval/probationer; Magickal motto: "Credo Querum absurdum" ~ "I believe because it is absurd". Adam is the latest member of the lodge Geburah, and in 22 days he will be it's last surviving member but for now...
"Technically speaking your doing fine..." Andre's dry voice comes so suddenly and softly that Adam almost misses it, his attention turned towards the window, directed at an old woman pushing a shopping cart down the length of shops that make up Magnolia St. Andre pauses to sip his now tepid coffee and returns his glance to the beaten up spiral notebook of Adam's Magickal Diary.
"Here we have you recording your time with pranayama on the date of
3/23/?? - um, lesse, 20 minutes of 8 counts in, 8 held, blah, blah, blah and over here we see you have recorded all the relevant details of your LBR of the P. the time, the weather, time since you last ate... yep technically we have everything here."
"But..." Adam says matching Andre's voice subconsciously.
"Heh. But, what we don't have Adam, is anything real."
They sit there quietly. Adam keeps his eye on the old womans progress. Then without turning in his seat or shifting his gaze.
"Is this gonna be one of those Grad school rants, y'know where you parrot whatever dead frog your professor was into at the time, and use it to talk down to me like I was some kinda asshole for not being in the academic loop?"
The hostility in Adam's tone shocks Andre out of his airy complacency.
"I'm sorry..."
Adam breaks off from the trajectory of the old woman, and trains in on Andre.
"C'mon man. 'Anything real'? The hell is that supposed to mean huh? I mean seriously you told me to do this in the..."
"Excuse me 'Told you'?"
"Yeah 'Told Me' to do this in first place. Go home, read it, do it and then put it down. That's what I did. So I don't see how that's not 'real'?"
"Well, yeah ok, but that's not what i'm..."
"Alright then. You wanted me to log the minutes. I did. End of story."
"That's not the problem."
"Well what is it then? That I didn't write a 5 page narrative on the 'Azure laden beauty of Nuit? Or maybe I didn't have some wonderful epiphany in my two weeks doing 'The great work' that might explain why I feel the need to dress up like an asshole outta've some 80's metal band from time to time?"
"Y'know maybe if you'd shut up for five seconds I could actually finish a sentence."
Adam does. There is a cease fire. An armitice is reached between them, witnessed only by the napkin dispenser, the ashtray and a bad marriage between two cups of coffee. An awkward air stirs in the slow moving fan above.
Andre removes his glasses and cleans an imaginary speck off the lenses. Adam picks up on the gesture, can see that this ritual has been performed ever since he was a kid. A nervous habit picked up by a parent or an emulated teacher. Adam checks himself with a long drag off the cigarette. He knew he was being an asshole even by his standards.
"Sorry man" he says finally "I get a lil' uptight when people read my shit, thas all."
Andre puts his glasses back on. Superman in reverse.
"What I mean Adam, if your done trying to play the Alpha Male with me..."
"Teh. Your one to be talking there Mr.'Master of the Temple'" Adam snorts.
"... What I mean" (says Andre refusing to bite the arguement bait and trying to quietly punch a hole in Adam's wall of attitude) "Is that there is no heart in these pages. Now yes, great, You've done the exercises just as we've told you and you've recorded each nuance down the to the letter." He hands Adam back the notebook."That's great and all but what i'm reading here is not an open record of an initiates growth, but rather what seems to be the workings of an assignment given to a bored child, one who is doing his 'Occult homework', going through the motions with neither interest or insight."
Adam is quiet. Lost in his thoughts. He picks up his soda and slurps the melted ice from the bootom of his cup through his straw. Andre's thin face watches him with no outward intrest, his glasses might as well be microscopes.
"Your a smart man" Andre says finally, a little more balls in the voice now, "That much is apparent. But what I don't know is the 'Why' Adam. Why do you want to join us?"
"Your the only lodge in Terminus..."
"Okay, but why do you want to join a lodge in the first place?"
Adam looks at him now, really looks at him, not seeing the stereotypical 20something with the long stringy hair, and the 'Soul Coughing' t-shirt he met a few weeks ago at a party he crashed. After a heated arguement about chaos magick and William Burroughs, Adam gave Andre his nickname: "The Magickal Mystrey Bore!". The name stuck and would often be mumbled after lodge meetings by the newer members. He see's now, that this is a man who has put a modicum of thought into his life, and maybe, just maybe should be treated as such.
"Look. Don't tell me why. That's fine. But at least ask yourself"
Most of these so called magicians ain't nothing but bullshit artists with piss for blood and a library instead of a life. Ask them sometime there m'man what it is they actually WILL, see why it is they put on the robes and mumble-vibrate their way through some poorly phrased latin & hebrew? Ask them the 'why' and you will see them for what they truly are Adam..." Carlos is whispering, across the miles and the years, in his ear.
"Right" Adam says getting up. Picking up his diary from the table, folding it in half and slipping it between his ECKO jeans, "I'm Out of here,bro. 93!"
"Think about it okay, Adam?"
Adam weighs the scales in the corner of his skull. Finally a relunctant shrug.
"Pffffff... alright, 93 then! Same time next week?" Andre asks as Adam makes his way for the door. Adam replies with a nod, a nod that answers yes to not only Andre's question, but at the same time also acts as a signal to the waitress who is approaching their table, a nod saying to leave the check with Andre. Adam always took a certain pride in slipping out of the bill the way Houdini slipped from the chains. It was done out of one part entertainment,and another part pure philosophy- the subversive wink, giving props to the Zen Coyote God, Eshu hat trick and Hermes hand jive.
Adam took the shock of recognition on Andre's face when he see's the bill was suddenly thrusted on his table, and the fact that Adam had now had a very, very expensive brunch before Andre arrived became clear to him. Adam winks at Andre as he passes him by the booth in the window he was just staring out of. A "Schadenfreudian slip" as Skinhead Dave would warn him. The one weakness in Adam's hustle was the need to rub the hustle in the marks face.
"Bon Appetite there Frater Adonai, Master of the Temple!" Adam mouths the words mutely to Andre. Who is too busy searching his wallet franticly now.
"Do what thou wilt mother fucker... just remember there ain't no such thing as a free lunch." Adam strolls down Magnolia St, whistling a song he's forgotten the name of, with the rest of his day spread open before him, like the legs of a lover waiting.