Walden / Magic Inc.

You know that thing where I joke about how crazy it is here? Let's just say that last week was the first one in months where I was at the office fewer than 100 hours, one way or another. We owe that to the Holy Week holidays and a crawling shadow of DNGAF. I feel renewed. Let's see how long it lasts. Anyway I've been terribly distracted from you and regret that but you've always been on my mind. (You were always in my house.)

Waldo. The most brilliant conspiracy of all is how we've been trained to ask where he is, not who. A Lyonnaise cloth dealer who threw it all away and started a war on mammon. Imagine him lurking in every crowd, jaunty red phrygian cap and stripey shirt, waving and smiling. In fifth grade a teacher who reminds me of Jeff Richard forced me to play Harlequin in a summer play and hoodwink a cloth dealer. It was very hot that year and I would've rather pondered the Silmarillion.

So there's that game where you lay out three books to symbolize the world or at least a role-playing world, a "projection" like the home movies Jarman cut together for the Pets in the far-flung anno domini MCMLXXXIX. Who you are, who they are, how the systems tie you together. Okay.

The platform play is so close now I can smell it. A kind of kalevala creating a "suomi" where once there were only Swedish and Russian lakes and forests. A kind of glorantha, a mirror of the '60s that birthed the current middle ages. A third age, third wave, hypothetical fourth great awakening, "aeon." A rocket cottage. Lightning. Explosive effervescence birthing angels.

The discovery in 186 A.D. of secret Dionysian celebrations in several towns in Latium aroused intense indignation in Roman society . . . this indignation was probably due less to cynical moralizing than to the sheer astonishment of a businessman confronted with a barter system. According to Peter John Olivi and Ubertino of Casale the reign of the Holy Spirit had already begun.