It's the haunting hour right now, in my head anyway. Art Bell is on again--a caller who's seen four UFOs called to say his wife saw her first--and I found, through a blind search for something else, a document I read quite a while ago that touched me in strange places. Living Magick is one of those absurd tales that is told so honestly, it's believable, especially when you speak online with the person who wrote it.
The whole milieu around this person and this piece frightens me. When I first found it, I was in that vulnerable place the author mentions:
The rest of the time I was a frustrated high school student, scared that I was losing my mind.
There are inexplicable occurances. Luck resembles a metapattern present in microorganic environments (where the simple rules of life say that which has gets, and that which has not loses) and corporate capitalism (the rich get richer and the poor get poorer). The piece discusses the placebo effect.
These kinds of mystical, romantic explanations for strange phenomena seem so real, especially when they're potentially empowering for nervous, shy adolescents--geeky academic adolescents who are used to depending on their minds for power, when it involves changing something as awesome and imposing as weather. I was convinced enough to study some tall grass on school grounds one stormy, windy day, but nothing came of it.
But maybe that's how I convince myself it's not true.
