Month: January 2014
Mr. Clicks
Everyone has their own personal demons. Medieval magicians believed there are thousands of tiny demons surrounding us every day—tempting us, controlling us, possessing us. Turning us away from the path of The Great Work.
I believe this.
If goetia is the magick of summing our own shadow nature and putting it to work for us, wouldn’t it make sense to chuck the grimoire and work with your own? I’m not saying that Dantalion, and Gemory, and Orias aren’t real or useful, but it’s those legions that work for them that concern me most. Especially ones born more recently. Demons that feed off our modern vices.
Like Mr. Clicks.
Mr. Clicks is the demon that takes you to Facebook, or twitter, or tumblr—whatever your brand of social network—and helps you waste away the hours.
Click. Click. Click.
Mr. Clicks know that every time you press the button your brain lets out a tiny shot of endorphins.
Click. Click. Click.
During my day, he whispers in my ear incessantly. “Let’s go to Amazon and see how many books you sold. Let’s go to Goodreads and see if you have any new reviews.”
Click. Click. Click. Wasting the hours away. I could be writing. I could be editing. I could be practicing magick.
“Didn’t sell any books on Amazon today? Ohh… too bad. Let’s check Kobo.”
Click. Click. Click.
“Tumblr is really self-promotion. It’s helping you sell more books!”
Click. Click. Click.
Fuck that guy.
It’s time to put him to work for me. Time to get him make some other people click. Preferably on the “Buy With Just 1 Click” button. It’s time for me to know when to stop. To manage my precious hours better. To stop fucking around and actually do the things that ultimately make me happy. The creating, not the selling.
First step, find his true name. Light some incense, turn on the visualizer and build some gnosis. I find Artium Animae helps with anything of demonic nature. After that, close my eyes and use the virtual keyboard. How many clicks to find his name? There are 22 in this missive. Let’s begin with that.
The crafty bastard tried several times to fuck with me. Even having me inadvertently erase part of this document with my random clicks. But I nailed him down, and got him to squeal.
His true name is: syd[5fTH]UR[
Figuring his domain is firmly in the intellect, in Mercury, I used that planetary square using English gematria.
S = 114, Y = 150, d = 24, 5 = 5, f = 36, t = 120, h = 48, u = 126, r = 108
Numbers too high for the square were divided by 22 and rounded to the nearest number. I interpreted [ as a stop to start a new line.
5, 7, 24 [5, 36, 5, 48] 6, 5
So now I have my sigil to put within the triangle at the time of summoning.
Happy Birthday, Robert Anton Wilson, born 18 January 1932, died 11 January 2007
Seven Quotes
- I don’t believe anything, but I have many suspicions.
- Everybody who has ever worked for a corporation knows that corporations conspire all the time. Politicians conspire all the time, pot-dealers conspire not to get caught by the narcs, the world is full of conspiracies. Conspiracy is natural primate behaviour.
- Belief is the death of intelligence.
- Animals outline their territories with their excretions, humans outline their territories by ink excretions on paper.
- The normal is that which nobody quite is. If you listen to seemingly dull people very closely, you’ll see that they’re all mad in different and interesting ways, and are merely struggling to hide it.
- Of course I’m crazy, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.
- Horror is the natural reaction to the last 5 000 years of history.
Wilson was at various times a novelist, philosopher, psychologist, essayist, editor, playwright, poet, futurist, civil libertarian and self-described agnostic mystic.
Source for Image
by Amanda Patterson for Writers Write
