Joe Hillshoist wrote:I blame Neil Megson....
Hey, lookit - it's Joe!
This is the best Christmas ever.
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Joe Hillshoist wrote:I blame Neil Megson....

...and there's a billion different causes.
Joe Hillshoist wrote:Cheers 'cuda.
Its boxing day here, just after lunch (Oh yeah, before you say a word - up yours Morgan), and the sooner this year is over the better...
Jaz Coleman also did an excellent spoken word release called the Courtauld Talks. It focuses on magic(k)'s role in the music of Killing Joke. Good stuff, I wish I had encountered it much earlier.Joe Hillshoist wrote:I didn't realise it at the time, but people Like GPO, David Tibet and Jaz Coleman, possibbly ex pats like Nick cave and JG Thirlwell, (and add who you like) were the continuation of that tradition in a pretty interesting sort of way. Using music. (Music is a pretty powerful magical tool as you no doubt know.)
Joe Hillshoist wrote:There was all sorts of shit going on in the 80s that fitted with this. The rise of pop metal, D and D, there are probably other things I can't think of right now.


@disinfo: #Fotamecus: The Chaos Magick #Film You May Never Get to See http://goo.gl/fb/zFBnJ #stories #chaosmagic #servitors
Fotamecus: The Chaos Magick Film You May Never Get to See
By Frater Isla on June 30, 2013 in stories
In 2001, Matt Lee, director and epic beard-owner, announced the Fotamecus Film Majik Project, a plan to make a “film about time and modern magick, a story about shifting perceptions of time.” The film would follow six chaos magicians as they cast a spell through the use of a sigil to “construct a tool with which our subjective perception of time can be altered.”
The film’s title, Fotamecus, comes from the name of a servitor created in 1996 by a magician calling himself Fenwick Rysen. In chaos magic, a servitor is an artificially created being with limited autonomy that executes a pre-programmed task. In the case of Fotamecus, the the task was to literally condense or expand time, dependent on the needs of the operator. Say, for instance, I was running late to an appointment. In theory, I could call upon the entity to contract the amount of time it would take to get there, and the trip would shorten. The problem, according to Fenwick, is that to contract time in one place meant that time had to be expanded in another. To this end, the servitor was then programmed to self-replicate clones of itself as needed, creating a matrix of servitor nodes. That way, if I needed to make my trip shorter, then a node would be created which another person could access if they wished to make another time period last longer (insert minute man joke here). This would keep me from having to “pay” for my time. With me so far?
Jump ahead five years to Matt Lee and friends, plotting out a film that would manifest the entity onto a projector screen, reaching a larger audience and teaching them how to contact it, effectively taking control of their own perception of time. Matt began soliciting crowd-sourced funding in return for what he called The God Maker Program, a CD/DVD/VHS package including background information on the film, images, audio files, and writings pertaining to DIY servitor creation.
Interest surged. Julian Vayne mentioned the film in his book, Now That’s What I Call Chaos Magick. Discussions and comments popped up all over the internet expressing excitement for the project. Filming began. A release date was projected for 2003, but was pushed back later to 2006. Then, to the frowns of the internet occult community, it was canceled altogether.
Due to the economic downturn, the film’s production company, Indifference Productions, had closed its doors, leaving Matt with hours of 16 mm film that would never be seen. The only publicly available footage resulting from from the work would be a trailer and a forty-one minute documentary entitled Chronomancy.
The first portion of Chronomancy features the magicians making a batch of cookies with the Fotamecus sigil imprinted on them while discussing their own experiences with the servitor as well as some explanations of the sigilization process. The second portion documents a ritual in the woods being performed to invoke Fotamecus into the film while a narrator explains what is happening. Throughout the footage, we hear the entity’s name being repeated as a mantra. As we watch, we are forced into the role of participant, with the mantra being burned into our memory on a level matched only by “Call Me Maybe.” By witnessing the ritual, we are perhaps invoking Fotamecus ourselves...
http://disinfo.com/2013/06/fotamecus-th ... rmation%29

Both the lyrics and musical sounds of Sacred Songs reflected Hall's personal philosophy. The lyrical content alludes to some of Hall's interests in esoteric magic (or "magick" as it is sometimes spelled). Rock music author Timothy White interviewed Hall for the book Rock Lives. In that interview Hall indicated that in 1974 he began a serious study of esoteric spirituality, reading books on topics like the cabala, the ancient Celts, and the traditions of the Druids. He also became interested in the life and beliefs of Aleister Crowley. Crowley coined the concept of Thelema, magick concerned with harnessing the power of the imagination and willpower to effect changes in consciousness and in the material universe. For example the album track "Without Tears" is based on Crowley's book Magick Without Tears (published in 1973).


Mazes and Monsters is a 1981 novel by Rona Jaffe. The novel is a cautionary tale regarding the then-new hobby of fantasy role-playing games. The book was adapted into a made-for-television movie by the same name in 1982 starring young Tom Hanks. The novel is based in large part on the largely apocryphal "steam tunnel incidents" of the late 1970s. These urban myths developed during the infancy of role playing games, generally purporting that university students playing a live action version of Dungeons & Dragons or similar game disappeared into the utility tunnels of the school and became lost, and in some cases died of hypothermia or other causes. The legends had risen due to newspaper reports concerning the disappearance of a Michigan State University student named James Dallas Egbert III. Egbert had played Dungeons & Dragons and did in fact go into the steam tunnels of his school, but with the intent of committing suicide. When his attempt on his life failed, he hid at various friends' houses for several weeks. During this time the private investigator hired by Egbert's parents to find him speculated in the press that perhaps Egbert had gone into the steam tunnels to play a live version of the game and gotten lost. The media reported the theory as fact and caused controversy over the effects of playing the game.

Richard "Ricky" Kasso (March 1967 - July 7, 1984), also known as The Acid King, murdered 17-year-old acquaintance Gary Lauwers in Northport, Long Island, New York on June 16, 1984. Two other teens, Jimmy Troiano and Albert Quinones, were present at the murder, which took place in the Aztakea Woods of Northport while all four were high on what they believed (and was reported) to be mescaline but was most likely either PCP or LSD. The murder became sensational news in the New York area and across the nation due to the torture of Lauwers and alleged Satanic ritualistic aspects of the murder. The murder took place during a period when there was much public concern[1][2][3] over the effects of Satanic and occult content in heavy metal music and in role playing games. Kasso was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt at the time of his arrest and was a fan of groups such as Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, and Ozzy Osbourne.

People saw satan everywhere back then. I remember it. Not that well. But I remember it.

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