There is a very fine line between some occult practices used in magical warfare and sabotage methodologies used by intelligence agencies, so I’m going to open this article by quoting King Leonidas of Sparta.
They are close to us, then we are also close to them.
Closeness, that sense an invisible presence lurking in the shadows, breathing down your neck. Many Alexandrian witches find the experience rather unsettling and that’s because of a number of supertitions at the core of their beliefs and their fierce attachment to power and control over external circumstances. When Sharon Day breached into Loki’s Gazette and posted the article I have since re-edited and re-posted she must have thought that her violation of privacy would have acted as a future deterrent to write and speak our mind. We are seeing a concurrent precedent in the case of Sarah Anne Lawless. Since speaking out against merchants of fakelore, charlatans and abusers on her blog, she has been subjected to all sort of retaliation that have affected her livelihood. If there wasn’t any truth in the facts she exposed then why would anyone feel so threatened to take such trouble to silence her? Clearly, facts not words define a truth. Uncomfortable facts are uncomfortable truths some would rather they would not become public knowledge. Those affected by it, have their mask of insincerity to protect and it is to be expected they will take any measure to prevent it from dropping. Fakelore, be it pagandom, witchcraft or occult related is at the core of the religious industry that has replaced mainstream religion as a political tool. It goes hand in hand with our times, where it is corporations and businesses in charge of government and ‘democracy’. It is naive to think of those making a living out of new alternative religions as to be spiritually motivated and their mission, so to speak, evangelical, in the sense they put their knowledge out there to attract kindred spirits to their message. Spiritual people are historically independent, ‘off the grid’ and very often persecuted for not conforming to the rest of society because they represent a fire that if catches, threatens its very existence.
Given the effort and money it cost Sharon Day to breach into a blog that failed to yield any of the information she sought, I must admit I was sorely disappointed to see such a golden opportunity to prove herself a worthy enemy go to waste. I was expecting Xerses’ army to show up but instead, during the period we were shut out of our own blog, I ended up making some interesting connections with off the grid people and practices which are, in the words of who I spoke with, emphatically nothing to do with ‘new age’. I had the time to corroborate these claims and judge for myself, which put a blanket of calm serenity over this period of siege. More wondruous events and gifts exuded out this chaotic moment, all of which I had been racking my brains to how I was going to go about to obtain. Well I shouldn’t have worried. They literally came out of the blue, at the right moment and in the form of gifts from people and the land. This is how you know your contact is your ally and working with you and for you. Especially in the past year, this has been a set pattern. I/we don’t ask for things or help but we do have a solid companionship going with the contacts. It is based on a genuine mutual appreciation and exchange without request and it’s ongoing communication. The greatest benefit is the removal of all anxiety and drama when shit happens because of external interference, enabling one to remove it like you would with a bag of rubbish. Drop it in the bin, done and dusted, life goes on as before. I guess this is what has always lacked in magical traditions like Alexandrian witchcraft. Their relationship with their contacts is based on want camouflaged by ‘will’, e.g: “I will for so and so to go forth and do this and that for me and I will give this and that in return”. Under the outer layer of want of the will is the layer of desire. Under the layer of desire is greed and below that hunger and below hunger survival and below survival is fear. (Stupid Sorita voice piping up) “Oh, but I don’t see anything wrong or immoral in wanting. What’s the point in doing magic then? ” (Normal voice) “Of course, there’s nothing wrong or immoral in wanting, when you earn it through your own efforts. However, when you have to beg and bribe entities to fetch it on your behalf, it shows that as a sentient being you amount to nothing more than a little whatsit.” So, especially when you want to cross into dark and outer realms or get cosy to beings with key roles in mythology and no sign of worship or temples because you think it’s cool and you don’t want to look like you’re lesser than someone you’re in rivalry with and is giving you a disinterested the middle finger, just remember…
Another luminous idea frequently rolling out Maxinarians: (read with stupid voice on) “Magic comes at a price; you got to give your life force to a god/dess”… who’s got countless times the life force you’ve got because, take heed, if you don’t, they ain’t even going to take a second look at you, you’re that insignificant to them. There are three types of sacrifice and I’m only going to mention the one relevant here (you can read about the others on my personal, fully functioning live website…middle finger to you Sharon) which is what the weak do in order to obtain partial favour from a deity. Do they work? You tell me. I could come along and make a deity an even bigger and better bid than yours, and then how far are you going to go? What are you willing to lose? When magic comes at a price, it can easily turn into an auction won by the highest bidder, not to mention some deities are known to screw their most faithful. If your contacts are into trading, terms and conditions then you will always end up getting the short end of the stick, and that’s because, like loan sharks, they know you will always go back for more, as you don’t have the means to stand on your own two feet but still like to pretend you’re some big flashy queen of the pond. As for deities who screw over other deities because of their hand in fate…well, put it this way, even Baldr got a better deal in spite of appearances.
For some magic is need, for some it’s want and then for some is a whole massive load of fun…like an extreme sport…so you become some stuck up pompous arse or you gravitate towards fun deities, kindred spirits. Spirits that should you die and merge with them, you wouldn’t mind but in a sort of way you even look forward to it. It’s no different from finding your twin-soul. Perhaps it was a ‘mare’ coincidence that during one of my strolls with my friend from beyond, he picked something I needed and had been looking for quite some time. The timely closeness with the early February liminality and to what actually unfolded gives me the goosebumps. Meanderings into the dark valleys and misty plains (of death) with the mother of miracles and many shapes, give dreamwork an altogether different flavour from the insipid Alexandrian broth. These house patrols seem to always lead to cunicles bearing the imprint of the amateurish fool of the day who first butchered the fabric then didn’t possess the artistry to mend its frays. Perhaps under the guiding hand of an even bigger fool demanding recompense for her services; bringing us closer, putting the lanscape and figures on it, in sharper focus for all to see (it will become clearer as you read). It’s what King Leonidas talked about: the open door carelessly left behind by the viscous enemy intent on closing in.
Here is one of my favourite Alexandrian cliches, “We have to celebrate the eight sabbaths because it’s what witches do.” Oh no, you fucking don’t. For the most part, they’re new age/hippie inventions borrowed from someone else’s pre-Christian history and in many cases, an excuse to engage in a little self-flagellation to offer deem sacrifice to the goddess, who turns out to be some astral parasite (well, we are at that time of the year, aren’t we?) Unless your forefathers lived in Imperial Rome, festivities based on their calendars and ritual flagellation would have been unheard of by local tribes (Candlemas/Lupercalia of all festivals are not remotely British), so they’ve nothing to do with British Traditional Anything, until Britain became assimilated as a Roman province. Even then, it’s probably more dignified to say sabbaths are traditional to a modern hippie sub-culture rather than make out that’s what witches of old did. But ok, these days it’s trendy and desirable to be a subjugated victim, so I’m sure whether it is Rome or the EU it wouldn’t make a jot of difference to those who take pleasure in bending over with a rope running from their neck to their hands tied behind their back for a clergy(wo)man with a scourge in their hand. Bleargh! No self-respect. As for honouring our ancestors….
Anyway, now we have a little further insight in Sharon Day’s intentions to (mis)appropriate herself of Loki’s Gazette. As it stand, I wipe my arse with her Privacy Shield Framework. She’s welcome to keep the crumbs she managed to scavenge from our thrashed material. We don’t stop anyone from cutting and pasting and sharing what we publish, so unless she was thinking of buying lokisgazette.com and upload of all files passing them as hers, it would make no sense to import them using a software programme. Loki has many names, Sharon might not be aware of…and I don’t just mean Loptr. Yep, so Sharon Day was going through Loki’s Gazette bins. Good, good, very good. Next time, we’ll put the cat litter out so she can take a look in that too. Meanwhile, here’s a prophecy for her (we looked at the stars for the purpose):
I apologise if this prophecy makes us sound a bit like Christian Day in one of his moments. I just couldn’t help relating it to something Sharon Day posted before she introduced him to Alexandrian witchcraft. That was one giant leap for Alexandrian craft…
…and straight into the ditch of chaos. And for those in the know…
A big fuss was made about initiating the mentally ill, and even bigger fuss about non-socialising rules outside the coven. I guess witches cannot be trusted to be of sound judgement. Some people ought to be kept as far away as possible, not because they are bad or to discriminate, but because from a magical perspective, they are unlocking devices. So in that respect, Maxine should have enforced that non-socialising rule (she should have locked her in a cupboard and thrown away the key, if you ask me) on her newbie, who hasn’t grown much since, I see, before expecting people she never met to follow that stupid, flakely applied rule. Not that the rule is stupid per se. It’s the reasons given and the way it’s presented and enforced that show she really understands fuck all of what she claims to have co-founded and be the queen of.
Oh dear Sharon!
By now, Sharon should be, at the very least, aware that while Loki perfectly understands how the mind of ordinary folk like her ticks, he’s a being who inhabits many worlds at once. Not your usual trickster. Not your usual demon either. Possibly older than Ginnungagap itself. He seems to tag along wherever fate deploys him. Loki understands better than any other deity, the need of experiencing victory by those whose hubris moves them to usurp positions way above their station. Sometimes he even helps them to fulfill their ambitions but that comes at a price only fate decides. Yes Sharon, you may, like the fictional Viserys Targaryan, have all the credentials and pedigree lineage in the world but there comes the time one is confronted by powers beyond one’s limitations. Like Viserys, Sharon wandered helplessly using wealthy middle class status to buy favours that would promise her the crown she believed to deserve. Powers she thinks her lineage will bestow her with the means to tame them in her service. Powers she thinks she can bargain, strike deals with and have dominion over and powers whose language she does not speak and whose nature she does not grasp.
Now we’ve seen what happens when picking battles with the wrong sort of power, let’s take a walk down memory lane to see how Sharon Day got to where she is now. Facebook ‘Truths aside, here is a carousel of Loki’s most memorable mindfucks…it is illustrative of when it is the deity who ends up writing in their magical diary about the time when it was they who evoked a disingenious human and through their hubris bridged ruin and destruction (there are other anecdotes: King Midas is one and Pentheus another, but there are many more).
One of the weaknesses in Alexandrian magical training is its obsession with hierarchy, cult of personality and conquest of power within a fairly homogenous set of poorly understood practices. Deep down, Sharon Day believes that being Maxine’s poodle endows her with power of authority. In turn, the inability of Alexandrians to tell her to fuck off and go back to sipping prosecco at the country club, reinforces this belief of hers with the expectation the rest of the world (external reality) will follow suit. It then comes as a shocking surprise when a young pedicurist, a shop assistant in an exclusive French boutique and even a volunteer at Kingston’s furniture for the homeless don’t see such nobility in the flat arsed hunchback and do not treat her with the deference she demands. Like Viserys Targaryen, Sharon Day misunderstood Loki’s sentiment behind his agreement to fulfill her crowning of glory.
Mischief, mischief, on whose foot is the mischief?…There’s more than one way to skin a cat (Maxine, you should reeeeeeally take heed)…and back to ‘a price’ for the magic, it’s been truly enlightening to see what are women’s perceptions of Loki, particularly witches’, and the power of ‘new’ sci-fi mythologies to shape and influence these perceptions.
So much that, to begin with….
Five days later, a thought came just like that out of the blue: go log in Loki’s Gazette. I couldn’t be arsed but I did it because when thoughts pop up like that there’s always a reason. First time since October, I think. Oh wow, it ended with more than just a bent journal for Sharon…
…and it was all her own doing. Yeah, so what’s this story about the Calypso Software? Well, as it goes, once I got back in Loki’s Gazette, I did what anyone else would have done and reconfigure the whole thing and investigate what went on, to find out who was behind it. Turns out it was Sharon Day. I found date, time, her name and her credit card she used to purchase the software, the transaction and invoice number with date, time and location in Nashville, Tennesee, the software activation time, location and port(s) with other several email from technical support attached, the IPad, two IPhones and consequently her Apple ID (traced and confirmed) the programme was also enabled for, with which she illegally trespassed and stole data and files, and her conversations with WordPress support in an attempt to obtain administrator rights, so no point in Sharon donating her brain to science, I guess.
We were both logged in at the same time and I could see her smug satisfaction dissolving in desperate panic. The interface was going mad and I could see she was importing files, which helped getting a better picture of her exact location, whilst stirring a proper pandemonium in her precious software. She tried breaching back in several times after that over the next few weeks, and yep, I’ve saved them all up.
Fucking moron. If I were her I would stop obsessing over Loki’s Gazette for real and not just pretend to people she does. She has already removed all doubt of her stupidity, from here on she can only make it worse for herself. What I’ve done with the fruits of her stupidity is for me to know, but at this rate, the rage she felt at the airport will be nothing in comparison to the tears of bile she will weep if she carries on.
“Real rage permeating the air”….see this shit?
It validates Sharon Day can’t do neither rage nor compassion. It’s all fake as plastic. She’s in Nashville, supposedly ‘looking after’ her hospitalised daughter. Why isn’t she focusing her gratitude and compassion entirely where she should instead? Meditation, yeah? Clearly, she can’t be doing it right. Why not just sticking to sipping prosecco at the country club and scrap-booking instead of trying teaching others a craft you have neither the flair, or the power or the expertise for?
Breaking news: last minute report in mid-edit. Another fucking drama as we write.
(Now please don’t let me post the entire thing) You wonder why shit happens more than once. Number one, you repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Never learning from them and bang on about this fucking kindness as an excuse, only to get all sullen and passive aggressive, scratch sand over it to cover the smell of your mess. Number two, you ask money for services your heart is not in it. You huff and puff. Ask for more money and when you don’t get them, you get pissed off and rant about it on social media, just like this.
Go re-read what I wrote earlier about mental illness…
If she really was that bad, what the fuck was she doing in your entourage in the first place? So, let me get this right. First you let the nutters in and then you insist on boundaries? Forgive me, I thought it worked the other way round. This is why, I can’t stand Alexandrians. They are fickle, emotionally retarded and constantly steeped into unnecessary drama. You are a bloody embarassment. No common sense at all. It’s just about parading the curious as if they were committed worshippers of the queen while doing a bit of proselytising, the soiree, the whole fucking claptrap about expensive wine and Strega – 3 euros a bottle in an Italian supermarket and one of the shittiest cheapshit liqueurs you’ll ever find on the planet but it’s all about the name, isn’t it? Hello? It’s only expensive because it’s London and there are finer drinks out there. And then, why even bargain and make concessions for this person to get in for free. There is your chance to get rid of the nutter, matter of fact, without really telling her the real reason! Problem solved. Noooo…first the concession, then you feel ashamed for her, next the character assassination in a closed group. That’s easy, isn’t it. Will these people get to hear her side of the story?
I don’t believe it!!!! How many years have you been in the craft Maxine? Probably better you don’t say.
You know Maxine, there are only two people who are anal-retentive in selecting who gets initiated: one is writing to you right here, right now and then there is someone else. We started at the same time. She with her project and I with mine. Different selection methods, same rigueur. We go parallel to one other and diverge at some point but I respect that magician like no other, on the grounds that she never minces her words and takes no shit. In magic, especially if you lead my dear there’s a very, very thin margin of error. Magic doesn’t do sorry and neither do the beings that come with it. No maybes, no buts, no ifs, not even the chance to take a breath between words before they’re gone. You put a foot wrong and you’re out. You put your foot wrong many years ago and it’s gone all shit for you ever since, so now all you get is parasites who will eat you alive.
Did I understand right? Two years????????????????????????????????????????????????????
I can’t get my head round it. I think none of us here can.
Wait, I need a strong cup of tea now for the next load of tosh. It carries on…
Bloody hell!!! Maxine, you’ve been saying the same fucking shit for nearly half a century but you’ve fucking waited two years to come up with whinge even though you ‘can tell who doesn’t smell right‘. Can you really? Maxine, the only thing you have nose for is cash. You can smell the cash cows. You can smell them good.
(Sigh!) Let’s make light of it while I put the kettle on a second time for another cuppa.
Exactly, as it has just been demonstrated with Sharon Day.
The Black Hand FB mafia
Admit it. You needed a good bitch. Don’t we all sometimes? But will you just stop acting like you’re the victim. It’s tiresome to having to listen to same old broken record. True potential magicians don’t gravitate towards victims, don’t you fucking get it? This is my second edit to this article and I’ve just inserted these bits right in the middle of it when your post is barely 7 hours old. Could it be, perhaps, Loki is not the only one who has it in with you lot (two)? Even I don’t have the fucking answer at this point!!! Could it be…he’s up to something even I don’t know? Things are getting rather peculiar and you said it yourself, this ain’t Disney world, and at this point I’m starting to think you’ve really pissed off something greater than just people. I’m going to put on the table some disinterested advice for you before closing this parenthesis (it’s up to you, take it or leave it): learn from ‘the attacks’ coming to you. Listen to what they are trying to tell you. Take them standing. Stop making excuses for yourself. If you forgive, you must know how to forget because the first cannot happen without the latter. So, stop lying to yourself, it can hardly be called a strength. Choose magicians (then you have to change attitude and treat them as such) over cash cows and brown-nosers. It’s your Achille’s heel and it won’t take a rocket scientist to tell you how it’s going to be your undoing. Was that kind enough?
Back to the edit and it already feels like we had this conversation before
Sparking originality was never Sharon’s forte and three pedigree initations into witchcraft have made not a jot of difference to her non-existent magical powers. At the end of the day, she still needs to employ ordinary services for ordinary people and cross her fingers for a placebo effect. This, among many other aspects point rather conclusively witchcraft does not run in her blood but it doesn’t mean she is not tied through bonds and oaths to practices that enable spirits and skin-walkers to enter her mind. I go into more depth about the technical applications and mythological examples of this practice on another blog, but one key connotation is that in ‘witches’ not of the blood, intiation rites bring up to the surface areas of arrested development the conscious personality had suppressed in the subconscious whilst growing up. Very often, people on the outside, family and friends, will notice a dramatic regression, no dissimilar to a midlife crisis where a 50+ suddenly begins to imitate their juniors, and in some cases to behave like teenagers. They also become rather susceptible to the effects of glamour, as we have seen. Unfortunately, they often forget that time (not magic) does not lie and cannot be cheated. The painful realisation dawns with unexpected encounters with sassy and spirited pedicurists in the spring of their youth, bursting with energy, no longer prepared to take any shit from anyone, no matter how rich or witchy. A well groomed shop assistant in an exclusive French boutique may not suffer gladly the delusions of a frumpy woman, no matter the size of her wallet would match with her actual tent dress size. And why should she? Some sizes, like witchblood, are just not available to everyone. To thine self be true. No need to get angry. No need to jump on the defensive. Take the shop assistant’s blessing and move along, chop, chop!
It’s not that Sharon Day is fat; she’s just misshapen, has saggy skin hanging off her stomach, no waist, a flat arse, no neck, no muscle tone and needs to airbrush her portraits to fish some compliments. I don’t need to describe her to those who know her. It’s called ageing, my dear. By the way, serious congratulations to the photographer for a masterpieces because your portraits looks nothing like any of you in real life…
…and whilst on the topic of ‘truth’ and ‘be true to thine own self’….
It looks like Maxine could learn one thing or two from Tywin Lannister about power, witchblood and being true to thine self. Let’s get the point across in pictures.
And how the protests fall on Alexandrian ears…
Now, if I were you Maxine, I’d get Sharon Day to take note of Tyrion’s wise words and display them in bold neon characters somewhere you can see them most of the time.
Get it? Any wo/man who must say, I am the king, I am the queen, I am co-founder, I am a true initiate, I am a High Priest/ess, I’m an Enchantress, is none of these things. Power does not come from telling people that you have it but comes from showing them. Usually it reaches your ears, when you least expect it, in whispers. Your son, seem to be hanging by a thread of life on purpose, as if not to release you from responsibility, to never let you forget and as an indictment upon yourself of your own judgemental pronouncements on others. In your blind hypocrisy, you condemn your own son along with those you resent and feel enviously powerless against. Yes Maxine, powerless. And whenever you feel powerless, we can all take a big breath, plug our ears because you will start crying out bullying and have a temper tantrum like that other toddler, Sorita; then as soon as something lifts your spirits (usually some misfortune happening on another) you’re back to your cocky self, until someone does or says something to dent your ego and the cycle starts all over again. Lo, and fucking behold the earlier interjection!
Right, I’m cutting off the rest because it needs a separate article and I might take it elsewhere, to a worthier audience 😉 . I’m leaving you with a song to make you forget all the eye candy and your woes…but not the dinosaurs!
No wet dreams guys ‘n girls.