Occult Fan

Master no Self

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Ten or More For Age 33 or Less

Tonight is my 33rd birthday, and I’ve just finished reading Alice Decoded by David Day – not only has it revolutionized my ability to write The Holy Gift (formatting excellence, definitely cool beans, all~) – so I’m just on a lark figuring I’d share a few of my favourite books from a span of when I was a wee sprout, up until around 15.

::clever latin quote about being a reader and soulful goes here::

In no order of particular meaning

 

 

 

One: Roxaboxen

A story of a group of children wild at play, constructing a world of their own fantasy, with bits of smooth glass as money, if I recall, and the most wonderful white stone lined houses… the illustration is done by Barbara Cooney, who you will see again in this list, known for her light textures and dreamy watercolour worlds, she is a whimsy of nostalgia that evokes a future dream to come – forever young is the banner she rides under, just as the wooden horses Alice McLerren creates – even in a child’s world of wonder here, wars and battles are not distant, but… all too near.

buy it here

https://www.amazon.com/Roxaboxen-Alice-McLerran/dp/0060526335/ref=pd_lpo_sbs_14_t_2?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=WS99RDTTVH1DYX0W29A5

 

if I were a better blogger, I’d insert graphic here

 

Two: Miss Rumphius

As I said, here she is again, but this is all Barbara Cooney – a lovely story about life and it’s tender meaning if one has the heart to truly comprehend this gift we have been given – so easy to forget – to grow hard – the waves are parting and we can see true paradise in a kind smile and a love of flowers and the ability to pass gracefully through this world. Although we cease to exist we persist to remain, love, memory, tradition… this is a very personal book that I cannot tarry further on with, suffice to say that you will be moved, and that is the value, in part, of these books I share – they … are truest jewels*.

 

 

if I were a better blogger, I’d insert graphic here

 

Three: Goodnight Moon

 

This should be on everybody’s list, but it goes without saying this rhythmic sea of poetry lulls us off to the dreamiest of distant memories where we where still ‘of the trail and glow of heaven’ or something to that end of the line, but as much as the words are spellbinding, the illustrations by Clement Hurd are almost surrealistic blacklight pantomime but the thick matte texture somehow offsets the harsher tones leaving the gestalt subsuming the favour of the eye, and the actual ‘text of the illustration’ waltzes in perfect time hand in hand with Margaret Wise Brown’s masterful lyricism.

 

 

 

 

Four: A Wrinkle in Time

Madeleine L’Engle’s high youth fantasy (trust me there) … I first read this at age 8… no surprise to some of my readers (I have those, you know!) 8 being that … one of my flavorites – perfect to mention as this has a focus on the mechanics of time, one of my first forays in to the concepts of philsophy, other worlds, and high imagination, the likes of which I had not been able to prepare my self for – for I too was swept up on that windy night, with  Calvin, Meg, and Charles Wallace off to magical lands, the likes of which… I expect some of us will be returning to sooner than we may possibly once yet again imagine….

 

 

 

Five: Goosebumps #7: Night of the Living Dummy

YES! A frukin Goosebumps made it on my list! This was the first in a slew of these things – I read a ton of them – never got in to Fear Street, but this corny story was just so much fun. My Grandma Doris Foster got this one for me when I was about the same age, she was proud of me for being a kid who read. Not much to say here, except that I wanted to name our Mini-Schnauzer after a dog from Goosebumps – Trigger – but my brother Geoffrey Niles got to name it Tyke. Because they got a dog without telling me. Hey I know! Let’s move forward!

 

 

P.S. I remember the original cover being way more appealing ^^

 

 

 

Number Six: Love You Forever

 

Robert Munsch pens a timeless loving tender rendition of the circle of life between a mother and her son. It’s very touching and I know you feel the way I do too. The illustrations by Sheila McGraw perfectly compliment the tale, the entire book is a timeless magical treasure and for any mother looking to read a book to her son that will touch them both in the best way, Love You Forever is the one.

 

 

 

 

Number Seven: The Runaway Bunny

This list isn’t giving me enough room haha

 

 

 

Number Eight: Alice in Wonderland

 

 

Number Nine: Alice Through The Looking Glass

 

 

 

Number Ten: The Hunting of the Snark

 

 

…For The Snark WAS a Boojum, You See

 

xoxo :3 I’m going to have to extend this list to include some CS Lewis, the Chinese seven brothers and a few others including Mouse a Cookie, some Jan Brett, and more… but this is a living blog, so I can do that.

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Doom Patrol

Force.

This shit has it.

Now just Force.

 

THE FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING FORCE mother fuckers

Star Wars. The movie my parents saw on their honeymoon.

Merka. I know. Also. Correspondences, sprechinze de lingos, beeyotch :3

Grant Morrison is one of my heroes, rightfully so, for his way of living belies a path to semiemulate, when one realizes that one walks one path alone, the dreamer or doer, rather the both than the former or latter, is prone to excite responses from auspicious audiences.

The power is in YOUR hands. Real moments come from reading Grant’s iterations (as they all three of them begin to hump my side voraciously at first and then tenderly and tenaciously and almost tepidly, waiting to hear what I will say of them) – sorry lovies – only talking about Doom Patrol now.

 

This is why I’m famous. What? Like hotdogs? No not pornstars/I’m a blackstar. Motherfucker. Ok. Enough of the language, you cadmium resevoir of electric fluid monoliths. Finding your own voice matters, and don’t you forget it.

If I may create a duality for the spirit of both our heaven and our time – the individual versus the machine – that is the voice we have heard of the Borg – be not afraid of joining with other humans – it is the machine, it*s optics, metrics, and presence you ought despise, expatriate from as much as humanely possible, and realize that even 5G is a threat to yr tits and dicks.

Gotta speak that way, ladies, and gents, the old way is gyring and gimbling away – oh Alice – you ARE in Wonderland – even the highest Chaotes know this – following along the way – it spirals in circles – we are dust – we are dust – we are dust and sunsets and holy births and chemical weddings and expansive explosive loving destinies MAGNIFIED ~

 

DID YOU EXPECT A BREAKDOWN OF THE COMIC OF GRANT MORRISON ET AL

 

Coz that’s not what you’re getting. Not here. You can find that, but idiot – just READ IT. Buy the bloody thing from Amazon like a proper champ in Omnibus form and keep Vertigo in print and in business like a good chap now, won’t you?

 

Of course you will.

 

Now as it seems we have some spectrals in the mist

 

It’s time to stop writing for now, Willoughby…

 

I’ll be back

 

Same Bat time

 

Same Superman channel

 

Mother Fuckers.

 

The Son and Parent and Overcomer of Salvador Dali… N A T E F  O S T E R

 

It’s Time I Shared

This is inspired by a few in the spheres which I respect, GC, CLK, GW to name a few… I want you to see me at 17. I am changing, but this is what I was. It just needs to be said. I am not looking for pity, as much as I sometimes revel in feeling ‘that kind’ of ‘cared for’…

Needless to say, I am what happens when neglect and abuse meets rock music and long car trips of isolation plus being pilled up at too early an age and being sent off to mental hospitals, where, everyone knows by now, I lost my virginity.

The Tool and other sync aspects of resurrection and alcohol abuse/drug abuse and madness and violence and etc all intersect – but the POINT is HEALING. I am still raw… I’m sorry truly to those I hurt… my left hand path is nothing like that… at all ~

Meet Me, Nathan Lee (Miller Foster) / Nate Foster / Occult Fan

and also… The Gift

at age 17 – My lovies…. “Jesus… Meet Nate”

 

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Blood Sick, The Caretaker

O wat caustic hologram

let the nations a sieve through

most hold wars with gold bars and parachutes

but we use our minds and our attitudes

 

your own private litany

the blood soaking the company

how rude dear

at least use a coaster

Lily of the Rose

you

lily

of the

rose

 

star pattern

treasure map

compass

light guiding this lost sailor home

 

you

crackling Vienna

at her bright height

vanquishing Constantinople

and her domes

 

summer flower

violet sky line

velvet lover

sweetest heart

 

you

the ocean tide

I

a piper

in the surfs

 

sweet sparrow,

starling… swallow

we feed

our creation in exultation

 

 

 

I

and you

lily

of

the rose

Kiss Me, Sky

little bit of heaven

little bit of hell

little bit of love

little bit of hate

what can I say

when you say

you know

what it is

I know you know

what do I do

no thing to say

just gona laugh it off now

 

Number Nine, Now

So some have been asking me lately

 

Occult Fan

what is ya favrite/favourite bier

 

and I say

 

well Jimmy/Suzie

I typically have a fine and different answer for each and every time I’m asked this

 

but

 

since I’m trying to build a blog

 

here

 

and since I’m a fan of disclosing unimportant trivia

 

thou mayest have the following feck-weedin’ glimpse inta mah psycheye

so

oknotok oktotesok

obelisk mausoleum

 

every music box sings your very flavoure

when it is number 9

 

#9 makes

the heart

grow fonder

 

 

it’s pretty obvious

 

 

Magic Hat’s #9

 

I’ll get moar in tew itz layturrz

Blood Soaked Apocalypse [?]

blood soaked apocalypse

the new paradigm

all our minds

constantly changing

evolving

so many machines speaking

dream th damage we would do

if we failed to forgive one another

now imagine a world where gold

hearts are celebrated

and no shit is taken

and no shit is given

let the scales be balanced

breathe with me, me worthy mirthful denizens

happy shining earth if we

over come the darkness

Amor Vincit Omnia, Mi Amor

Whenever you sit with me

You make me want us to be naked

to strip off these clothes

and our flesh down as robes

but you are stung

only at the vicious pastern current

your dead locks are melting

and our shadows soon become one

when the dark past, like bad law

is undone

and you and I and our future daughter’s son’s daughter’s sons

amor vincit omnia, mi amor

Right Action; Right Moment

all the words that pour forth frothing foaming from my mouth

are the bubbles writ of the slit wrist of a flaming hangwoman

and all the terror ever done to the innocent my deathmusk immanent

hold me holy vogue forgotten

trust is the treason we tried to tangle up amongst heaven

and where did it get us

this tangled wood of thorns and arson

slut walk back in pride to the sanitarium

where you lost your final moment of innocence

in the hot arid eye of july when she slipped all over you

full of child and bad moon diligence

cost me an arm and a leg and all of me penance

but I grew wings

and a heart of stone

and I

pumped full of pills since 12

like a monster made of clouds

holding on to a hope that

if he works hard enough

he’ll earn his elegance

a lust for the husk of the fallen golden moment

this is the eve of the cataclysm

I am a prophet of the damned

and all who are saved

are those who walk by my hand

for heaven is hell and hell is heaven

and the right action

is what determines the right moment

we play checkers

while God plays chess

pray that when they mail you your ticket to paradise

that they have the right address