The following is an excerpt from the personal archive of Eugene Law, Tampa’s finest—and possibly only—Magician.
It’s Friday and I’m sitting on a chair in the backyard swatting at mosquitoes. While it’s comfortable and bug free inside, Porter insists I never use these chairs anymore and I plan to prove her wrong.
Cathy just dropped off a beer from my favorite local brewery and took a minute to point out my terrible handwriting. I feel so blessed to have a teenager to make me aware of these things. Still, the beer has earned her a reprieve.
Please ignore the blood stain on the paper—mosquito number nine sends her regards.
Now, where was I? That’s right! My wife thinks it’s high time I write some of the Magickal world we live in down on paper.
“You know, should someone else come along and need to make sense of all this crazy stuff you talk about.”
I tried to explain to her that I’d be around to tell them, however she astutely reminded me just how often I narrowly avoid death and dismemberment—hence the reason I’m swatting at mosquitoes writing in this journal.
Anyway, the first thing I thought I’d cover was Magick in general. Yeah, not the rabbit-out-of-hat variety, rather the cosmic powers of the universe stuff. That’s what we Magician’s deal in, and to be honest, there are plenty of days I wish I didn’t have to deal in it, but that’s just life.
You can’t spend all your time drinking beer—terrible but necessary life rule.
So, right, what was I saying? Magick.
Magick is sort of a spring of power that exists somewhere inside each and every Magician. Yes, some of us call ourselves wizards or witches, but honestly, I don’t go in for that stuff. It’s a little too Hollywood if you ask me. Besides, who would take Eugene the Wizard seriously? Not I.
Now the next logical question you’d have is, how do I make the Magick happen? Do I use some sort of wand?
No. I do not use a wand. Again, it’s not really a hard rule, but I tend to avoid carrying around objects that make me look like an out-of-work conductor for the Florida Orchestra.
Where was I? That’s right—the Magick.
In order to unlock those cosmic powers and get things humming I’m rather partial to Latin. First, it sounds really good, and second, its rare to meet anyone who knows exactly what it is I’m doing. Sure you get the one off dead language professor who can properly conjugate Latin verbs like a boss, but those are far and few between—I do live in Florida after all.
Anyway, with the words come in the intent, and that’s really all Magick is, my will vs the rest of reality. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it ends in frighteningly concerning results.
All of this brings us wholesale back to Causality: the moment when you Magick fails, and in doing so, decides to give you the old one-two between the eyes.
However, that’s a story for another day. Cathy just stuck her head out to tell me dinner is on. It’s taco night, I gotta go!