just-a-cool-wizard

[just-a-cool-wizard]

good for this person making the best of a head-to-bag curse. It gets weird when the stuff in the bag starts taking over for your thoughts and that kind of thing. You can game it by putting your textbooks in there but the weight starts to get to you. A colleague of mine back in wizard school thought he was so smart, doing this, he did a head-to-bag curse on himself, put books in there, then reversed the curse, thinking the book knowledge would stay, but he didn’t realize de-cursing the head-to-bag thing wouldn’t really do anything to the books, so his fucking head exploded. He fucking live tweeted the whole ting (telling the birds about it) so we all heard about it in semi-real time. The tweets stopped and we were like, Holy shit, Balthazar! Ran in there and found this headless corpse with bloody books everywhere. Christ. Shittiest part is most of the books we found were self help books, like the “and gosh darn it, I like myself!” kind of books, you know? Poor guy. He sure went out a legend, I guess.

[just-a-cool-wizard]

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[just-a-cool-wizard]

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[just-a-cool-wizard]

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[just-a-cool-wizard]

Ok, magic lesson here from a real wizard. I post silly stuff most of the time but this is going to be real.

I also say that sometimes before posting something silly but this won’t be silly. Promise. A magic lesson from a real wizard.

Manifesting is deceptively complicated. You are creating something in reality that previously didn’t exist. Focusing on “I hope evil people change their ways” or “I wish for harmony” is not manifesting change or harmony, it’s manifesting WISHING and HOPING. You’re sitting there in a reality without harmony and you’re like “ooo I hope for harmony,” and there you go, you’re manifesting lots of hope but no harmony.

So the answer is simple. Instead of manifesting “I hope evil people change their ways,” manifest “Evil people change their ways.” Instead of “I hope for harmony,” manifest “I bring harmony to those around me,” “the world is fundamentally harmonious,” “harmony is more powerful than chaos,” or even “Elon musk is realizing the error of his ways” or something.

to summarize, an “I wish” statement manifests wishing, focuses on the absence of the thing and removes your agency. Focusing on a reality where the thing is true manifests the thing.

For more, read the book “Advanced Magick for Beginners” by Alan Chapman, available here on archive.org.

I hope bad things happen to evil people

[just-a-cool-wizard]

this made me cry

Buttons

[just-a-cool-wizard]

[just-a-cool-wizard]

holy shit, literally my first ever nightmare, the one that I think all the rest of my fears have been built upon, was this. I was 2 or 3 years old. It was gray and black lines filling my vision, and I interpreted it as looking like a tornado. There was something about it that was simultaneously universe sized, the largest most massive thing possible, like incomprehensibly large, and also the teensy tiniest subatomic particle quark sized small, and the paradoxical nature of it is what made it so scary. Simultaneously too big and too small. And it somehow had to do with either preventing the universe’s initial formation, or with the universe’s ending. I did a hallucinogenic drug once with my partner and we discussed our original fears, and hers was that objects that appear solid in space still have distance between their atoms, and mine was this big/small thing, and we freaked each other out because each of them were paradoxical.

*From r/geometricnightmares: Geometric nightmares are "a specific type of dream, often occurring during illness, that involves shapes or objects, themes of infinity, pressure, an overwhelming sense of unease or terror and anxiety, a void and incomprehensibly large or small objects, and/or a crushing silence."

They're kinda hard to explain; check out the subreddit for some examples.

[just-a-cool-wizard]

I am hearing that on his deathbed Pope Francis received the light of Islam and unhesitatingly recited the Shahada. Even now he looks down on the Ummah from the gardens of Jannah. Truly there is no God but Allah, Mohammed is his prophet and Ali his viceregent!

[just-a-cool-wizard]

I sent this to my therapist.

[just-a-cool-wizard]

[just-a-cool-wizard]

I;m thinking about thos peens

[just-a-cool-wizard]

Wow, this brings me back. Believe it or not, I was there that night. It was the second or third year of wizard school--third I think because I was there with my friend Reynauld the Wize-with-a-Z, and he transferred over from Wizard Yale (I know, right?) during my third year. Anyway, Reynauld and I had the bright idea that we'd go to this bar that night to meet some witches, not that we'd know what to do with a witch if she even glanced at us, much less, you know, what we were hoping for, but I literally chalk up "reason to meet witches" as one of the main reasons I explored a wizard career to begin with. You can't grow up watching Elvira Mistress of the Dark on the seeing stone and not have it affect you, you know?

But, see, I was nervous. Witches and warlocks and folks pretending to be vampires, and I was just a kid, so I'd gotten pretty in my head about it and I thought it would be a good idea to put up some wards, you know? What if I get cursed? What if somebody tries to poison me? What if there's a real vampire there with the fake vampires (fampires we called them) and they try to glamour me, or who knows what? So, wards up, anti-curse stuff up, all my spell slots on defensive abilities.

So there we were at this bar full of leather- and black denim-clad so-and-sos, and if you've ever seen a wizard student you'll know how much we stood out. I was, to put it kindly, cherubic in my school days, pale and pock-faced, quite the stereotype. I used some scum from the bottom of a cauldron as eye shadow, thinking that would make me look goth, and Reynauld tied his robe sleeves up with a copper wire. We looked ridiculous. I'll give those goths one thing, though--were they ever welcoming to a pair of dorks invading their space like this. One guy with a fucking safety pin through his face, like his WHOLE face, he's all, how you guys doing, so glad you're here, let me show you around, and then this gal who, so far as I could tell, literally didn't have eyes, just offered us molly like it was no big deal. Everyone was super nice.

Anyway, this guy. Saint Verthaine, apparently. I remember seeing him and thinking he looked so fucking cool, like as nervous as I was, he was the polar opposite. I was scared to be there, and he, I don't know, it looked like he didn't even want to be there. He was standing at the bar with a creamy-looking drink and a cigarette and he looked like through his presence he was doing the place a favor. In hindsight I realize that was just his shtick, this aloof above it all thing, like obviously you don't go to a bar to be alone, but I was pretty in awe of it at the time.

And then, something happened. Reynauld was shouting over the music, shouting right into my ear, complaining about one of his classes, when suddenly he stops mid-word. A wave crossed over the room. I felt a pressure, felt one of my wards buckle and one of my counter-curses trigger. The music sounded heavy and distorted--more heavy and distorted than it was, I mean, like I was hearing it from under water, and then I realized that everyone was frozen. Everyone but me. My anxiety about coming to this club suddenly erupted into a full on panic and I was hyper aware of everything and everyone around me, positive I was getting glamoured or otherwise mind-controlled and a wraith or who knows what the fuck was about to get me, and then I saw her: rainbow hair that obviously had taken her hours to get right, skin gray as a cloudy sky, and leather that she must have been stitched into. She's slinking seductively through the crowd and I'm positive she's who did The Thing, and thank heaven i'm petrified with fear or she'd have known I wasn't magically petrified like the rest of the room was, and I realize then that she's approaching the cool guy I'd seen, and he's not petrified either, just smoking and standing there like he doesn't give a fuck. It was crazy. She says something to him, something weird and garbled that I couldn't hear, holds her hand out to him, he stubs his cigarette out against the bar, takes her hand, and then, seriously, the two evaporate into smoke.

And just like that, the music is normal again and everyone's moving again and Reynauld picks up exactly where he left off, the second half of the word he was saying, which made me jump right out of my fucking cauldron-soot eyeliner, I'll tell you, and then he stops and is like, "What the fuck, man? Did you take that molly that chick gave us? You can't just take random pills, dude!"

I stared over at him like he was crazy, and then I thought, wait, did I take the molly? Was that what that was? Molly is supposed to be fun but that was fucking terrifying.

I guess the moral of this story is don't do drugs, kids, except cool ones, of course, and, like, I don't know, I lost the thread of this, I suppose, because I checked later and I still had the molly, so maybe do do drugs, just make sure you test them first? And watch out for goddesses of chaos.

Now THIS is how you start an occult text.

(Book of Eris)

[just-a-cool-wizard]

a Buddhist meme. Life truly is a beautiful thing.

[just-a-cool-wizard]

Columbo x Star Trek

*I've been informed that these are by @cursedtrekedits

[just-a-cool-wizard]

Blake's 7 + Textposts Part 14