Do you ever just feel totally stressed out by the demands of planetary magic? I feel like in the last few years there’s been a lot of “THIS WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN FOR 30+ YEARS SO DO SOMETHING!!!!1111!!!” Super moon, three blue moons in a row (or something, I don’t even remember now, just to tell you how powerful the experience was for me), etc., etc.
Mars/Mercury Retrograde on top of the full moon/Friday the 13th is already making everyone especially batshit crazy. From friends and family we know closely to all the teens shooting everything, everyone is crazypants right now. I have a friend who does intake for mental health hospitals and he told me that people really do get extra crazified around the full moon.
We have a little stool in our kitchen. It’s blue plastic and super ugly. We have it because my mom gave it to us. She couldn’t believe our level of home ownership ignorance when we bought our rabbit burrow and that we didn’t even have a step stool. Our Man Max used to like to regally perch on top of it to lord over Bellatrix, who would slink around it resentfully. When it’s not full of cat, we call it the Chef Stool. When Jow or I had a shitful day and don’t feel like cooking, one of us will sit on the chef stool and bark commands (okay, that’s mostly me but Jow still uses the Chef Stool, usually he’s drinking when he sits) and the other will cook.
Jow is making his famous meatballs for the party we are throwing the next day. Deb has just completed cooking Chicken and Lentils for dinner that night so she is seated on the chef stool.
Deb (fretfully): Are you sure you should have metal spoons on the stove like that?
Deb: Did you remember to put in —
Jow: Do you want to cook the meatballs?
Deb (sullenly): No.
Jow: Okay then. So what kind of magic do you want to do tonight?
Deb: Honestly? After what you told me about your day and what I told you about my day, do you really want to align yourself with the extreme levels of craziness everyone’s displaying? Like. . .do you really want serious intent mixed up in this psychosis?
Jow: . . No. No, I don’t.
Deb: I’m also tired of being bossed around by the universe! God, it feels like every other day there’s some kind of astrological event I’m supposed to be kowtowing to and I’m sick of it. I have never found my magic to be any better or worse by aligning my actions with the cosmos. There. I said it.
Jow: So, what do you want to do?
Deb: I don’t even know. But it feels like a night for occult antics we would do in our teens instead of something serious.
Jow: Let’s try out the Vampire deck you got me!
Deb: Okay! Fun!
Jow (starts shuffling): Tell me your question.
Deb (tells Jow her question)
Jow (stops shuffling): Cut the deck into fourths.
Deb: But I don’t want to cut the deck into fourths. I just want to cut it in half.
Jow: No. Fourths and then thirds and then halves. I will select how to put the deck back together.
Deb (cuts it in half)
Jow (starts putting out cards)
Deb: If you’re doing past, present and future, you laid it out all weird.
Jow: I go where the spirit takes me. (starts reading the interpretation): The Crystallization of Thought. Devotion. Faithfulness or obedience.
Deb: You’re just saying a bunch of words. What does it mean?
Jow: Not my problem to interpret. Next!
Deb: No, wait. You’re the worst reader ever. On what planet do you shuffle, cut the cards and give no interpretation? What is the point of having you involved then?
Deb: Let me see the book. How can the cards not be numbered and the book doesn’t have an index?! This is crap. Do you even know what the Nine of Knives means, anyway?
Jow: Nope. But she’s cute.
Deb: No. Fuck this. I’m going to read you the same way you read me. (shuffles, cuts cards the million times, starts flinging cards haphazardly).
Jow: It’s liberating, isn’t it?
Deb: It is.
(Deb gives an actual reading with her own cards to Jow)
Deb: Now it’s my turn! Ouija! Ouija!
Jow (long sigh to convey that he thinks the entire Veil will be ripped open and the whole spirit plane will spill out into our dining room, even though the last time we tried we couldn’t even get it to spell out an actual word let alone rip everything open)
Jow: Fine. (gets the board from my teen years and puts on the vinyl version of The Parlour Trick’s A Blessed Unrest)
Deb: You know, [Friend] said she found this album relaxing and soothing.
Jow: I am suddenly very afraid of [Friend].
Deb: I know, right? Anyway, we need to focus on calling a particular spirit. And have a specific question.
Deb: Let’s call Max!
(Deb and Jow may have called Max, but all Max does is what he did in his mortal life – walk across the “keyboard” spelling jibberish. Max leaves)
Deb: Is there a spirit here?
Deb: What’s your name?
(Board: “W” – then a bunch of jibberish, Deb sighs disgustedly)
Deb: Are Jow and I married?
(Board: Pauses, then gibberish)
Deb: You’re terrible at this, Ouija board! You used to spell lots of things in high school! Granted, Kelly was pushing the planchette but still! This is crap!
Jow: Could you try not make it totally mad?
Deb: Am I married to [Jow’s full name]?
Jow: Let’s call it quits before you totally aggravate it.
Deb: Fine. But I demand more Ouija sessions because we can’t even get it to spell a freaking word out let alone start tearing out house apart. Obviously we need practice. A lot of practice.
Jow: You know what, you’re right. We’ll work on it. Now come on, let’s watch some Real Housewives.
And that is how Deb and Jow spent the Full Moon/Friday the 13th. Be amazed! Be impressed! Don’t juggle hedgehogs!