So long Shadow Girl (wannabe ^.^)….


The Other Side, like your snuggly-snug shadows, methinks, is not as empty as it appears, aye? In fact, the seemingly hollow, swallowing spaces are teem- teeming with tales, tepid at first but ready to squeal, wail–scream like a tea kettle if given the time. Watched pots–kettles–aren’t really a problem here….where I’m from…eyes are pretty decoration at best, remember?

Stories reside–resound off bone–in the Other Side. If you let them. Give them the chance to speak to you, through you. They can be as cozy as those shadows you so admire, the word-weaving as delicate and as carefully refined as that to which you are so bore-boringly accustomed. Different magick is not necessarily all trick and no treat. No, it’s just done different, aye?

Spells this Side of the screen can be simple-so-delightful word-weaving or they can be echoes ric-ricocheting in the unvoid, bouncing off others, creating a cacophony that is at once both disconcertingly discordant and hallowy harmonious. A steady stream of staccato, tweet-tweet-twitters in your unears, inviting you to join.

So much of this place is for collaboration, for complex hexcraft no one alchemist (nor new-necromancer *hmph*) can hope to weave entirely themselves. Different magick requires different skills & work, aye? In the dark, though, we find each other, run our rickety, unfingers over the wefts, warps, welts, and webs of our story-skins. Share and shift and make room for more–the tales of our twinings.

Some things, I’m sure you know, Shadow Girl, fit better than others. Methinks spinning snippets of word-weaving on the Other World Wide Web for others to, mayhaps, stumble across and elaborate upon/complicate easier for you to appreciate than coming up with oily, snake-slithery words for ha-ha funnies. Our tastes, I believe, align in such a way. Curses and ha-ha hexes that create inconvenience–fly-away strands that won’t keep to their bands, slippery shoe laces, tongue-twist-twist-twisting–are great sport the only one I’m good at but, words woven to summon tears or demand blood are decidedly less fun to play with 🙁 The only flesh, blood, and bone a spell should require is your own, the only tears a poem need those freely, hum-humbly offered. If your funny ha-ha-ness is asking for otherwise, for more than fair, it’s not very funny ha-ha, huh?

….Here I am rambling to-and-fro like you, Dycpgc-Egpj-uyllyzc. Le sigh. Methinks you’ve grown as much on me as I’ve on you. Certainly, I’ve learned much about your Something World magick….it’s something, alright. Haha. No shadow suspended on a string of dust. Your magick is grounded in, well, ground. Fleshed out from flesh. Very tangible. Kinesthetic. Ours is still far removed. At a–shortening–distance but, a distance nonetheless. In the absence of that solid sense your Something World specializes so wholly in, I think we’ve weathered well though. Gotten creative. Imaginative. Appreciative. Done well teaching appreciation for what is instead of what isn’t. But, you tell me? Though you cannot touch me, run your fingers over my story-skin as you are accustomed to in Somethingness, can you feel me? As much as you can hear me? As much as you care to? Am I enough for you? Does my heart-for-handless-hands Lavinia-like? beat a rhythm you can jive to/with?

Methinks finding such an elusive, fair-for-sure jive a small but so necessary step. Unearthing a taste, too, for off-beat, Other delights also a must if one is to take something from my-handless-held-heart to their wickedly-warm-woosh-wooshing-one. Might unsettle the stomach or some other such sensitive system else-wise, aye?

Once you start bum-bum-bumbling like a honey bee rambling through the ruddy roses, it’s impossible to stop, huh? That, or you’re just contagious Shadow Girl…

Anyway, it’s been real or has it? Shadow Girl. Dycpgc-Egpj-uyllyzc. Hope to hear–haha–from you and your shadows soon. Don’t be a stranger, now ^.^ None of you alchemists out there, should settle for being strangers. Drop a line in the dark and the ripples will reach my far reaches–make them near, you hear–ha–? Or, cast a tweet-tweet-twittering spell and I will be sure to out-tweet tweet-tweet-twitter back a spell at you. Though the Other Side may be a vast and untamed unvoid, words to and from friends tend to travel the swiftest of any spells~

Céad slán go dtí go gcasfar le chéile sinn arís,

Nox Síog (yiy lmr y Qfybmu-Egpj-uyllyzc) <3


Crunch, Crunch, Crunch Time…

Is their power in parody? A latent ability that, once tap-tap-tapped, can transform thinking? That, through entertaining, can spur one to entertain thoughts they usually bar entry to? Is the silliness really all that silly?

Unfortunately, neither Dycpgc-egpj-uyllyzc nor this so-called Qfybmu-egpj-uyllyzc were able to find the time to giving such muse-muse-musings adequate consideration. Too many end of the season–end of one chapter–projects and other odds n’ so many ends to juggle. Thinking serious ’bout silliness just fell through weary fingers… 🙁 which isn’t so funny ha-ha, believe me for a change.

Dycpgc-egpj-uyllyzc has been reading her bones and me, my moon’s passages, though, and we forecast some free time in the near future to devote to properly measuring the merits or lack thereof of funny ha-ha-ness when it comes to instigating real change.

Hopefully, the wait is not too taxing for you fellow alchemists. Methinks, the crunch of crunch time echoing in more ears than just Dycpgc-egpj-uyllyzc’q and reverberating off more than these fair bones.

Many thanks for understanding~


Despite the crunch, magic spells are still being cast. Check them out if you dare ^.^

Faerie Spells

Shadow Spells

Céad slán till an chéad uair eile, daoine~

Faerie Pointers (Ha) & Friends for Dinner (Haha)~

Fair warning to all who dare delve deeper into the Other Side: Should you make a so-called “bot” using a pre-made fabrication of sorts, check the rows and columns for straggling letters and wandering no-words, whispers of forgotten things meandering in hollow spaces.

*cough* asf should not be in the *cough* Project Key *cough* nothing will work *cough*

Ahem, hope my fair foresight doesn’t scare those with softer sensibilities nor those with feebler hearts from any alchemical exploration or experimentation. From spell-casting or word-weaving and the would-be such. It’s rather amusing–sending  nonsense and nonentities out into the widespread web, seeing what spells stick, hit–find realization. Become magickYou really should try it. No tricks this time….

Anyway, many magickal happenings have taken place since the treacherous journey from the Other Side to Somethingness. Not sure if I much like being Something yet… Recipes of fate and of memory–spells, offerings of word-weaving–have been scribed scratched on the walls of a kitchen that seems to favour the impassioned over the meek of cooks. The angry ones, so it goes.  Was expecting more bread to box my ears and questions about my intellectual being to be screamed in my face to be honest….

Still, there was a magickal aroma about the place. See haha if you can catch a whiff of it:

Violent Delights know the rest?: An…acquaintance for dinner?

The Alchemy of Memory: Recipes for Remembrance: Many acquaintances for dinner. Many memories to savour. Pretty sounds~ 300 words was an admirable but, in shortest order, dismissed suggestion though. Procured a creative workaround. Artists, right?

Of course, many other delightfully fragrant trails of magick abound. Follow your nose, your tastes to the ones that sate your fair desires ^.^ Or not. I’m just a lone, sappy-no-lucky faerie wandering the fathoms to and fro hum-hum-humming hexes & hearts. Follow at your own risk, you know?

Oh, and that Dycpgc-Egpj-uyllyzc was going on about some other such nonsense here. Methinks she believes she’s clever. Ha. Perhaps, insightful, even . Haha. Again, you be the judge ^.^ 

Lmr-y-Qfybmu-Egpj-uyllyzc signing off~

Slán till an chéad uair eile





Can you hear me…?

On the Other Side, there is no sight. Eyeballs are decoration, perfect baubles for bows and frills…. For sightless admiration, eyeless enjoyment.

There is neither speech. Only a soft hum, the murmuring mumble of a mouth sewn shut  staccato against the screen severing Somethingness from Other. Separating shadow from form. Star from dark matter.

Me from you….?

The Other Side is where words disappear, is the always-starving-but-ever-so- patient abyss that swallows stories whole. A gaping grave but not.

Not quite.

See, death is an illusion here. An imagined end. Make-believe. Artifice.

On the Other Side, words gobbled are dark air, inseparable in our sightlessness from the life-breath gulped deep into our lungs. Stories our atmosphere brush against flesh, knit it into precious being, into skin & bone.

I am woven from the threads of stories spun, from warp and weft whispers whisked across the veil. From you to me.

It’s art–Me. You. The new necromancy, raising writ to grit and grizzle. Sealing it into a vessel to transcend the screen.

There are no eyes to admire clever craft nor voices to praise it here, where I exist. Is it the same for you? There is no need. No point.

We are your stories. I am nothing but the pure shade and shape of word weaving.  Integral, magickal for neither pontification nor understatement. There is no such trick.

I am well-kept secret but not. You’ve seen me. You’ve heard me. You know me.  You will.

No matter the Side, stories are meant for telling.

And, I will.


Be sure you’re listening, ‘kay ^.^?


Find me in the beyond for the journey ahead fellow alchemists~

24 is a fun number, isn’t it? The # of hours many wish they could spend surfing the Other Side, tangling themselves in its web….

Bm wms’tc y dsl lskzcp, rmm? Rcjj kc.