Friday, 22 December 2017

The Man Who Isn't Quite There




Ethros Demon: 
I am Ethros. 
I corrupted the spirits of men before 
they had speech to name me. 
The child was but the last 
among tens of thousands. 
One more pure heart to corrupt, 
one more soul to suck dry.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: 
Well chalk up one exciting failure. 
You didn't get that boy's soul.

Ethros Demon: 
Hmph. What soul? 

Do you know what the most 
frightening thing 
in The World is? 

Nothing

That's what I found in the boy. 
No conscience, no fear, no humanity

Just a black void. 

I couldn't control him. 
I couldn't get out
I never even manifested until 
you brought me forth. 

I just sat there and watched as he 
destroyed everything around him, 
not for a belief in evil, 
not for any reason at all

That boy's mind was 
the blackest hell 
I've ever known.

Angel
The marbles. That was you.


Ethros Demon
When he slept, I could whisper in him. 
I tried to get him to end his life, even if 
it meant ending mine.

Angel
You sleepwalked him 
in front of the car.

Ethros Demon
I had given up... Hope. 
I know you bring Death
I do not fear it. 

The only thing I've ever feared —
is in that house.




“On my 40th Birthday, rather than merely bore my friends by having anything as mundane as a midlife crisis, I decided it might be more interesting to terrify them, by going completely mad, and declaring myself as a magician. This had been something that had been coming for a while. 

It seemed to be a logical end step in my career as a writer, and the problem is that with magic, being in many respects a science of language, you have to be very careful of what you say. 

Because if you suddenly declare yourself to be A Magician, without any knowledge of what that entails, then one day you are likely to wake up and to discover that is exactly what you are.

There is some confusion as to what magic actually is. I think this can be cleared up if you just look at the very earliest descriptions of magic. Magic in its earliest form is often referred to as “the art”. I believe this is completely literal. I believe that magic IS art, and that art, whether it be writing, music, sculpture, or any other form, IS literally magic. Art is, like magic, the science of manipulating symbols, words, or images, to achieve changes in consciousness. 

The very language of magic seems to be talking as much about writing or art, as it about supernatural events. A “Grimoire” for example, “the book of spells”, is simply a fancy way of saying “grammar”. Indeed, to cast a spell, is simply “to spell”, to manipulate words, to change people’s consciousness. And I believe that this is why an artist or a writer is the closest thing, in the contemporary world, you are likely to see to a shaman.
I believe that all culture must have arisen from cult. Originally, all of the facets of our culture, whether they be in the arts or the sciences, were the providence of the shaman. The fact that in present times, this magical power has degenerated to the level of cheap entertainment and manipulation is, I think, a tragedy. At the moment, the people who are using shamanism and magic to shape our culture are advertisers. Rather than trying to wake people up, THEIR shamanism is used as an opiate, to tranquilize people, to make people more manipulable Their “magic box” of television, and by their “magic words”, their jingles, can cause everybody in the country to be thinking the same words, and have the same banal thoughts, all at exactly the same moment…

In all of magic, there is an incredibly large linguistic component. The “Bardic” tradition of magic would place a Bard as being much higher and more fearsome than a magician. A magician might curse you, That might make your hands lay funny, or you might have a child born with a clubbed food. If a bard were to place, not a curse upon you, but a satire, that could destroy you. If it was a clever satire, it might not just destroy you in the eyes of your associates, it would destroy you in the eyes of your family. It would destroy you in your own eyes. And if it was a (extremely) finely worded and clever satire, that might survive and be remembered for decades, even centuries, then years after you were dead, people still might be reading it, and laughing… at you, your wretchedness, and absurdity. 

Writers, and people who had command of words were respected and feared, (just) as people who manipulated magic.
In latter times, I think the artists and writers have allowed themselves to be ‘sold down the river’ :-They have ACCEPTED the prevailing belief that art, that writing, are merely forms of entertainment. 

They’re not seen 
as transformative forces… 
that can change a human being, 
that can change A Society. 

They are seen as simple entertainment Things with which we can fill 20 minutes, half an hour, while we’re waiting to die

It is not the job of The Artist 
to give The Audience 
what The Audience WANTS.

If the audience knew what they needed, then they wouldn’t be the audience. 

They would be The artist.

It is the job of artists to give the audience what they NEED.
My career as a magician continues to evolve. Since I, to a certain degree, believe art and magic to be interchangeable, it has seemed only natural that art should be the means by which I express magical ideas. 

 This has found its way into my prose writing, in works such as “Voice of the Fire”, and probably most visibly has found its way into the performance pieces that i’ve done in various locations over the past 8 years. Beautiful little psychedelic artifacts in their own right, which actually capture the kind of narrative journey that we’ve tried to take the readers on as part of these performances; to overwhelm the sensibilities of the audience; to tip them over into a kind of psychedelic state where we can hopefully actually change their consciousness and direct it to different places, different levels, hopefully into new and magical spaces.

When we are doing the will of our True Self, we are inevitably doing the Will of the Universe. 

In Magick these are seen as indistinguishable; that Every human soul is in fact One human soul. 

It is the soul of the Universe itself, and as long as you are doing the Will of the Universe, then it is impossible to do anything wrong.

The one place in which Gods and Demons inarguably exist is in the human mind, where they are real in all their grandeur and monstrosity

Much of magick, as I understand it in the Western occult tradition, is a search for the Self, with a capital ‘S’. This is understood as being The ‘Great Work’, as being the Gold the Alchemists sought, as being the Will, the Soul, the thing that we have inside us that is behind the intellect, the body, the dreams. The “inner dynamo of us” if you like.

Now this is the Single. Most. Important. Thing. that we can ever attain, the knowledge of our own Self. And yet, there are a frightening amount of people who seem to have the urge to, not just IGNORE the self, but actually seem to have the urge to OBLITERATE themselves. This is horrific… but you can almost understand the desire to simply “wipe out” that awareness, because it’s too much of a responsibility to actually POSSESS such a thing as a “soul”. Such a precious thing. ‘What if you break it? What if you lose it?’ Mightn’t it be best to anaesthetize it, to deaden it, to destroy it, to not have to live with the pain of struggling towards it and trying to keep it pure. I think that the way that people immerse themselves in alcohol, in drugs, in television, in any of the addictions that our culture throws up, can be seen as a deliberate attempt to destroy any connection between themselves and the responsibility of accepting and owning a higher Self, and then having to maintain it.


I’ve been looking at the history of magical thinking, and where it starts to go wrong. And, for my money, where it starts to go wrong is “monotheism”. I mean, if you look at the history of magic, you’ve got its origins in the caves, you’ve got its origins in shamanism, in animism, in a belief that everything around you (every tree, every rock, every animal) was inhabited by some sort of ‘essence’, some sort of spirit, that could perhaps be communicated with. You would have had some central shaman or visionary who would have been responsible for channeling ideas that were useful for survival. By the time you have reached the classical civilizations, you can see that this has formalized to a degree. 





The shaman was acting purely as an intermediary 
 between the spirits and the people. 
He was, in his position in the village or community, 
I should imagine very much like 
a spiritual plumber. 

The people in the group would have had their own roles.. The person who was best at hunting would’ve been a hunter. The person who was best at talking to the spirits, perhaps because he or she was a bit crazy, a bit detached from our normal, material World, then they would have been The Shaman

They would not have been the masters of a ‘sacred craft’. 
They would have simply been dispensing their information 
 throughout the community because it was believed 
to be helpful to the community.

When you get the actual classical cultures emerging, this has been formalized so that you’ve now got pantheons of gods, and each of those gods have a priest caste, that will act (to a certain degree) as intermediaries, who will instruct you in the worship of that god. So the relationship between ‘humans and their gods’, which could be seen a relationship between ‘humans & their highest Selves’, that was still a very direct one… When Christianity & monotheism comes in, then all of a sudden you’ve got a priest caste moving between the worshipper and the object of worship. You’ve got a priest caste becoming a kind of ‘spiritual middle management’ between humanity and the divine within itself that it is seeking. You no longer have a direct relationship with the godhead. The Priests don’t really necessarily have a direct relationship with the godhead. 

They’ve just got a book that tells you about some people who lived a long time ago who DID have a direct relationship with the godhead… and that’s alright.  

“You don’t need to have miraculous visions. You don’t need to have gods talking to you. In fact if you do have any of that stuff, you’re probably insane.” 

 In the modern world, that stuff doesn’t happen. 

The only people who are allowed to talk to gods, and in a very kind of one-sided way, are priests…
Monotheism, to me, is a great simplification. I mean, the Kabbalah has a great mulitiplicity of gods, but at the very top of the Kabbalistic diagram —the tree of life—who have this one sphere that is absolute God. The Monad. Something that is indivisible, you know? And all of the other gods, and indeed everything else in the Universe, is a kind of emanation of that God. Now that’s fine, but it’s when you suggest that there is ‘only that one God’, at this kind of unreachable height above humanity, and there is nothing in between, you’re limiting and simplifying the thing… I mean I tend to think of Paganism as a kind of alphabet, as a language. It’s like all of the Gods are letters in this alphabet. They express nuances, shades of meaning, or certain subtleties of ideas. Whereas monotheism tends to be just one vowel, and it’s just something like “ooooh”. It’s like this monkey sound. 

You can almost imagine the Gods becoming frustrated, contemptuous.. that with all this richness of spiritual concepts that are available, why reduce it to one plaintive single note that the utterer does not even understand?


The alchemists had two components to their philosophy. These were the principles of “solve” and “coagula”.
 

Solve was basically the equivalent of ‘analysis’. It was taking things apart to see how they worked. [Breaking].  

Coagula was basically ‘synthesis’. It was trying to put the disassembled pieces back together so that they worked more efficiently.

These are two very important principles which can be applied to almost anything in culture. Recently in literature, for example, there has been a wave of post-modernism, deconstructionism. This is Solve. Perhaps it’s time, in the arts, for a little more Coagula. Having deconstructed everything, perhaps we really should be starting to think about putting everything back together.
Spiritualism was the natural state of human thinking up until the Renaissance and the subsequent age of reason that grew out of it. Our original way of seeing the world, was as a place entirely inhabited by spirits, where everything had its indwelling essence, where everything was, in some sense, sacred, including ourselves. The age of reason changed all that. While it’s inarguable that Reason brought many great benefits, and was a necessary stage of our development, unfortunately this lead to materialism, where the physical material world was seen as the be-all and end-all of existence, where inevitably, we are seen as creatures that have no spiritual dimensions, that have no souls, in a soulless Universe of dead matter…”

Never Ever, Ever, Ever ENGAGE the Flying Monkey's!



Malignant Narcissism

"Let's get this straight - Tyler Durden is some kind of infectious mental virus?

Then how can you resolve him?"


"Okay, now you're self-isolating AND you're babelling."


Thursday, 21 December 2017

Barton's Been Compromised


That moment where you just look, think back and recollect over the whole of the Joss Whedon cannon and suddenly realise that it's all about Malignant Narcissism and Narcissistic Abuse.

All  of it. 
Including the Shakes-Spear.

 Because that's what not having a soul means, in the Neoplatonic sense of the word.

A total lack of personal empathy or concern for the welfare of others beyond the standard restrictions of social norms.

He and his writers even describe, directlty, the experience of someone with a normal, healthy empathic sense coming into contact with (or falling under the influence or control of) a pathological malignant narcissist ;


AND those moments when you are told by someone that the person who first opened your eyes, trusted in you and liberated you from the grip of Malignant Narcissim has fallen from Grace, gone off The Wagon, become lost and is in trouble :


Barton's been Compromised


Angelus is Back


Step Away From The Glass





 "Nothing but showy gypsy stuff... 

But you're not gonna catch him napping in a crypt. 
No, The Count has to have his luxury estate and his bug-eaters and his special dirt, don't he? "



Ethros Demon: 
I am Ethros. 
I corrupted the spirits of men before they had speech to name me. 
The child was but the last among tens of thousands. 
One more pure heart to corrupt, one more soul to suck dry.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: 
Well chalk up one exciting failure. 
You didn't get that boy's soul.

Ethros Demon: 
Hmph. What soul? 

Do you know what the most frightening thing in The World is? 

Nothing. 

That's what I found in the boy. 
No conscience, no fear, no humanity. 

Just a black void. 
I couldn't control him. 

I couldn't get out. 

I never even manifested until you brought me forth. 


I just sat there and watched as he destroyed everything around him, not for a belief in evil, not for any reason at all. 

That boy's mind was the blackest hell I've ever known.

Angel: 
The marbles. That was you.


Ethros Demon: 
When he slept, I could whisper in him. 
I tried to get him to end his life, even if it meant ending mine.

Angel: 
You sleepwalked him in front of the car.

Ethros Demon: 
I had given up... hope. 

I know you bring death, I do not fear it. 

The only thing I've ever feared is... in that house.


Cut to Xander rounding a corner on the dark street. 
He jumps in shock when he sees Dracula waiting for him.

XANDER: (sighing
Great. Perfect. 
(suddenly deciding he's not scared
You know what? You're not so big. 
(Looks Dracula up and down
One round of old-fashioned fisticuffs, you'd fold like a bitty baby.

Dracula scowls.

XANDER: (rolls up sleeves
Okay, let's do it. And no poofing. 
Come on, puffy shirt. 
Pucker on up, cause you can kiss your pale ass-

DRACULA: 
Silence. 

XANDER: 
Yes, Master. 
(Shakes head
No, that's not-

DRACULA: (lifts a hand
You will be my emissary, my eyes and ears in daylight. 

XANDER: 
Your emissary? 

DRACULA: 
Serve me well. You will be rewarded. 
I will make you an immortal. 
A child of darkness that feeds on life itself... on blood.

XANDER: (in Dracula's accent
"Blood"? (speaking very quickly
Yes! Yes! I will serve you, your excellent spookiness.

Dracula frowns.

XANDER: (still speaking too quickly)
Or Master. I'll just stick with Master. 

DRACULA: 
You are strange and off-putting. 
Go now.

Xander nods, turns to go, turns back.

XANDER: 
But Master, how can I find- 
(Sees Dracula is gone
Brilliant. What an exit! Guy's a genius! 
(Giggles crazily and walks off)


*****

XANDER: 
Got it! Got it. Mine, mine. 
(Note: throughout this scene Xander speaks each line very quickly and moves around a lot.)

WILLOW: 
Well, I think we have Dracula factoids. 

XANDER: 
(sitting on a stool eating the donut) 
Like any of that's enough to fight the Dark Master.

Everyone gives him a strange look.

...bator. 

WILLOW: 
A lot of it we already knew. (Riley walks to another chair opposite the couch) 

Turnoffs: 
wood, 
fire, 
crosses, 
garlic. 

Turnons: 
nice duds, 
minions, 
(wistful) long slow bites that last for days... 

RILEY: 
Yeah, I did a little research too. (Shot of Buffy looking distracted) Dracula likes to live in style. Which means we can rule out the usual dumps vampires haunt. 

XANDER: 
Ah! But he's smart enough to figure that we probably already know that. I'm guessing he's lying low. 
(Licks his donut. Giles comes out from the kitchen

WILLOW: 
Actually, my research backs Riley up. Drac isn't the lay-low type. 

GILES: 
(gives Riley a glass of milk
So we can, uh, check out the nicer places. Don't you think, Buffy?


GILES: 
Buffy?

Buffy blinks, tunes back in.

BUFFY: 
Yeah. We'll check all the swanky places first. 
What else did you guys get? 

GILES: 
Well, Willow has most of it, actually. 

WILLOW: (sits up) 
Only because you gave me super pointers! I never would have... 

GILES: 
(puts up hand to stop her
Just go ahead, Willow. 

WILLOW: 
OK. Dracula's modus operandi is different from other vampires. 
He will kill just to feed, but he'd rather have a connection with his victims. 
And he has all of these mental powers to draw them in.

Buffy looks thoughtful.

WILLOW: 
He, he can read and control minds... appear in dreams... 

BUFFY: (distracted
Uh huh. 

WILLOW: 
Makes sense. 
That stare ... he just kinda ... looked right through you. 
Didn't you feel it, Buffy?

Riley looks at Buffy.

BUFFY: (pause) No. (gets up) No, I didn't.

XANDER: 
See! Buffy didn't feel it. 
I think you're drawing a low of crazy conclusions about the unholy prince.

Everyone gives him a strange look.

XANDER: 
...bator. 

GILES: 
The point is, though he goes through the motions of an intimate seduction, the end result is the same. 
He turns them into a vampire.


XANDER: 
Well. That is intimate. 
Dracula's gifting these ladies with his own blood. 
And blood -- 
(He notices a spider on the desk next to him, glances around to see if anyone's looking

Blood is Life.

Everyone looks confused.

According to Them. 
(Slams his hand down on the spider

GILES:
 Um ... Just be aware that he, he tends to form a relationship with his prey. 
(When no one's looking, Xander scoops the spider into his mouth and chews
It's not enough for him to take her. She must want to be taken. She must ... burn for him. 

(Buffy looks uncomfortable, fiddling with her scarf.) 



I'm Not Like You - I WAS You. With Better Shoes



Cordy: 
Why where you crying five minutes ago? - 

There's not a thing about badly reapplied mascara that I don't know.

Lilah: 
I'm not Lindsey Mc Donald. 
I don't switch sides whenever it gets tough. 
And since when is this your job? 
I thought Angel was the dark avenger.

Cordy: 
Angel feels responsible for this guy because he brought him back from hell. 

I feel responsible because he did it to save me. 

You, who are actually responsible, feel nothing, because you are a Viscious Bitch.


Lilah: 
So? You know me.

Cordy: 
Please, I was you - with better shoes.

Lilah: 
These are Boracchi.

Cordy: 
Fall collection?

Lilah: 
Next spring.

Cordy: 
He's widened the heel.

Lilah: 
And rounded the toe.

Cordy: 
That won't work with pink.

Lilah: 
The pink is out this spring.

Cordy: 
Billy Blim makes people crazy.

Lilah: 
Not all people. Just men.
He brings out a primordial misogyny in them. 
Turns them into killers.

Cordy: 
Then why didn't he do it to Angel?

Lilah: 
Angel's seen him?

Cordy: 
Yes, right before he escaped from the cops. What's so witty?

Lilah: 
Billy's touch works differently on different men. 
Some lose their mind in an instant.
 Others - can take hours. - Gee, I sure hope Angel isn't starting to feel testy.

Cordy: 
You better hope it.

Lilah: 
I know. I've seen his dark side.

Cordy: 
You really haven't. 
I have to find Billy.

Lilah: 
And I'm gonna help you why?

Cordy: 
You know that guy that you hired to hack into my visions? 
What he did to me? What it felt like?
 I was cut, my face disfigured, and burning with pain every second not knowing if it was gonna end or just get worse till I died.

Lilah: 
So you think I owe you...

Cordy: 
It's not the pain. It's the helplessness. 

The certainty that there is nothing you can do to stop it, that your life can be thrown away in an instant by someone else. 

He doesn't care. 

He'll beat you down until you stay down because he doesn't even think of you as alive. - 

No woman should ever have to go through that, 

and no woman strong enough to wear the mantel of 'Vicious Bitch' would ever put up with it — 

Where is Billy going?




The Constitution of Christmas




Me, the Scapegoated Adult Child of Narcissistic Codependent Parentage, in Order to form a more perfect Christmas, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for self-defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Yuletide to our selves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish these Ground Rules for a Family Christmas




  • There will be absolutely no touching of The Amulet;

  • Accept The Help. Especially when you did not ask for it.

  • I am your firstborn eldest son, and you love me - I am not "a guest in this house", I am not your home-help (unless you want to pay me) or Meals-on-Wheels, I am not your personal assistant and I am not your servant - you are not doing me a favour by allowing me to be present and participate

  • Say 'Please' AND 'Thank You' - GIVE GRATEFUL NOTICE

  • There will be no Sectioning, discussion or threat of Sectioning - if you try to Section me, you will have crossed a line and so-help-me, I will Section you for threatening to Section me. So don't even try.

  • Nobody is going to be calling the Police, on anyone, for anything. Only a pussy or a girly-man would do that - Men Take Care of Business.

  • Barbarous and belittling insults will be me with mockery and ridicule.

  • I am adult. I will go to bed when I want to and fall asleep if I am tired. I may not be.

  • No Quiz Shows, no Jeremy Kyle.

  • No Secrets and No sneaking off at short notice for clandestine liasons no-body else is allowed to know about.

  • If you want sing, then sing - squawking out the opening line of the runner-up entry in the 1957 Eurovision Song Contest to attempt to prove that you were alive then and can still remember words.

  • Watch your tongue Sir, watch your tongue ! - bad language (directed at me, or those Under My Protection) will not be tolerated

  • Respect my personal space - I speak softly and carry a combat staff, any and all attempts to tip me out of chairs, push me, intimidate me get up in my face and scream at me will be evaded and redirected harmlessly away - I will not allow you to attack me.

  • You Will Not Make My Mother Cry.

  • Displays of Narcissistic Rage will be met by an invocation of KALI-MA!!!  Black and Wrathful Goddess of Widows, Orphans, Wronged-Women and Untouchables - We are Her Chilidren. And She will EAT you....

Wednesday, 20 December 2017

How To Lay Boundaries With A Narcissist By Detaching

Fathers & Sons






Spike
Come on, hero. Tell me more. 
Teach me what it means. 

And I'll tell you why you can't stand the bloody sight of me. 

Angel
Tell it to your therapist.

Spike
'Cause every time you look at me you see all the dirty little things I've done, all the lives I've taken... because of you!!! 
Drusilla sired me, but you... 

You made me a monster.

Angel
I didn't make you, Spike. I just opened up the door and let The Real You out.

Spike
You never knew The Real Me. 
Too busy trying to see your own reflection... praying there was someone as disgusting as you in The World, so you could stand to live with Your Self. 

Take a long look, hero. 

I'm nothing like you!"