Back to magick.
I’d forgotten that Damien was book signing in Peabody until he tweeted it, an hour ahead of time. I vaguely remember, when I first heard about it, looking up the store online and thinking, “Can I stand on line that long?” Then I ended up figuring that might be problematic and had decided that I couldn’t.
Spent the morning doing other exhausting things I needed to do: a car inspection, grocery shopping, and then the fun of having to lug heavy bags of groceries, one by one, into the apartment. Then collapsing in pain and exhaustion.
But then, when he tweeted about needing to prepare for the Peabody appearance, I took off without even thinking about it – it was merely an irresistible urge to go. If I wanted to paint myself as a logical thinker, I might have said that I wasn’t sure I’d have the chance again. No way in hell you’d catch me in Salem (don’t ask me to explain why again!), so Peabody had to be it. But no, I didn’t even give it that much thought. It was just a sudden sense of urgency ... “GO”. And off I went. Didn’t even get dressed up for the occasion, just gimped out the door. I must have looked like hell, but didn’t care.
He’s, what, 10 miles away from me, at this appearance? A straight ten miles up Route 114! – and again, I got lost, by being caught on a “right turn only” lane in heavy traffic, and couldn’t move left – I have no idea where Lowell Road went to (I know it goes to Lowell! Besides Lowell, although I have no idea where that was, in relation to 114, or which direction it was headed) , but I was on it, couldn’t get turned back around and became hopelessly, hopelessly lost. As usual. I ended up banging on the steering wheel with both fists and screaming my utter hatred for the State of Massachusetts and everyone in it at the top of my lungs, crying uncontrollably, screaming curses at the State’s refusal to take good tax money and buy street and directional signs with it, instead of forcing us all to hear tale after tale of Massachusetts politicians snorting it up their utterly corrupt noses. See? Even heading in the direction of Salem was hell!
Finally had to ask for directions back to 114, after half an hour of trying to get turned around, but getting more and more lost. When I finally made it back to 114, I was stuck in pre-Christmas traffic. Then I thought the Barnes and Noble was IN the North Shore Mall but it wasn’t. Of course, I wouldn’t learn that until I’d managed to hunt down a space to park and limp my way into the huge complex. One week before Christmas – took another 30 minutes just to find a parking space. Then another 20 minutes trying to find one of their mall maps screaming (“You Are Here!”) – which the mall had stuck in out-of-the-way places. What they DID have easily accessible were pamphlets with print so small no one could read them. The pamphlet locations are easy to find: just search for clusters of squinting people asking each other, “Can you read what this says?”
And of course, the Barnes & Noble was not only not IN the mall, but it was on the other side of this huge complex, and there was NO WAY I’d find another parking space. I limped from one end of that awful place to the other in a heavy winter coat, dragging my bum knee behind me. Took me at least 45 minutes to gimp through that awful place being run down and bumped and pushed by teenage shoppers. Took me another 20 minutes to gimp through three parking lots, dodging killer women in cars, cell-phone chatting and texting as they sped through parking lots and pedestrian crossings, to the Barnes & Noble, wiping tears of pain and frustration from my eyes. I was so late and in so much pain I was sure he was gone by then, but somehow, by some miracle ... thank you Sekhmet ... he wasn’t.
I found myself at the very end of a dwindling line. The advantage to it was that I was able to manage standing (sort of, as long as there was a wall to brace my back against, or a shelf I could lean on), because I was so late that the worst of the line had already come and gone. It didn’t take that long. Coincidentally enough, they had put him under a sign that said “Learning”. I saw that sign and started to smile. How absolutely perfect was that!
I don’t want to repeat everything I told him, although I did say he didn’t have to sign the book if he was getting hand cramps, because I only wanted to say something brief. He responded with something sweet about if I could stand on line for him that long, how could he not sign the book?, and I remember thinking, “He’s so nice ...” – in fact, he was so nice, I didn’t want to confess the truth about the hell I’d gone through to get there – really! It took hours to go 10 miles! – and that I hadn’t stood on line all that long; just gimped through a killer mall. Which might have amounted to the same thing, but was nothing compared to what he went through, so I wasn’t even ABOUT to complain about it.
Anyway ... it was nice. I was able to tell him SOME of what I needed to tell him and that was all I wanted. And I have an autographed book. Oh yes, and I did make him chuckle mentioning that I could retire on what I could sell his first book for. He’s very easy to talk to. And what a soothing aura. Here’s what his aura reminds me of: the ability that Jackson Rathbone’s character has in the Twilight series: the ability to calm people into a peaceful state of acceptance just by looking at them. I wonder if Damien knows he has that ability. I relaxed so quickly just talking to him that a lot of the back stiffness I’d gimped in there with went away. And THAT was nice too.
So here was my badge of courage: the Sky Sadist had twisted my face with Bell’s Palsy and I had still worked up the courage to travel to New York to see Il Volo. Now the Sky Sadist had hairline-fractured my left kneecap (yeah, I haven’t mentioned that yet – sorry) so badly I could barely move, but I ignored it, listened to Sekhmet instead and went to Peabody to meet Damien – Mr. Signpost – even though I was afraid of looking like a deformed old crone. Fuck the Sky Sadist! And as I said, thank you Sekhmet. It did, it felt like I had earned the silver Badge of Courage, afterwards. It would have definitely been easier to stay home and hide.
Continuing with the Fallen Angels list:
4. Kokabiel, also spelled Kפkabמךl, Kפkhabמךl, Kakabel, Kochbiel, Kokbiel, Kabaiel, or Kochab, considered the 'angel of the stars,' is a fallen angel, the fourth mentioned of the 20 Watcher leaders of the 200 fallen angels in the Book of Enoch. His name is generally translated as "star of God," which is fitting since it has been said that Kokabiel taught astrology to his associates. According to The Book of The Angel Raziel, Kokabiel is a holy angel; in other apocryphal lore, however, he is generally considered to be fallen. Kokabiel is said to command an army of 365,000 spirits.
[An army of 365,000 spirits? For what?]
5. Tamiel, also spelled Tâmîêl, is a fallen angel, the fifth mentioned of the 20 Watcher leaders of the 200 fallen angels in the Book of Enoch. His name is generally translated as "perfection of God" (the combination of tamiym and El-God) but Tamiel is also called Kasdeja or Kasyade (meaning "observer of the hands") in the Book of Enoch, Chapter 69. Michael Knibb lists the translation of Tamiel as "God is Perfect" or "Perfection of God." Tamiel taught "the children of men all of the wicked strikes of spirits, [the strikes of] demons, and the strikes of the embryo in the womb so that it may pass away (abortion), and [the strikes of the soul], the bites of the serpent, and the strikes which befall through the noontide heat, [which is called] the son of the serpent named Taba'et (meaning male)" during the days of Noah, not the days of Jared.
6. Râmîêl is a fallen Watcher in the apocryphal Book of Enoch, one of 20 leaders, mentioned sixth. Ramiel means "thunder of God" from the Hebrew elements ra'am and El, "God". Remiel is one of the archangels of the Christian and Islamic traditions, the Hebrew name meaning "Mercy of God" or "Compassion of God" [wow, talk about your irony, eh?] (see Jerahmeel). He is often confused with Azazel who is also called Râmêêl ("arrogant towards God" or "evening of God") although they are not the same angel. Remiel is the angel of hope, and he is credited with two tasks: he is responsible for divine visions, and he guides the souls of the faithful into Heaven. He is called Jeremiel or Uriel in various translations of IV Esdras, and is described as "one of the holy angels whom God has set over those who rise" from the dead, in effect the angel that watches over those that are to resurrect. He is said to have been the archangel responsible for the destruction of the armies of Sennacherib, as well as being the bearer of the instructions of the seven archangels. He is mentioned also in 2 Baruch where he presides over true visions (55:3).
So obviously, none of the judeo-christian scholars can decide if he’s good or fallen ... which doesn’t say all that much for the judeo-christian scholars, does it?
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