#Mood, amiright?
Not gonna pretend that Omicron is keeping me from partying this New Year’s Eve, because truth of the matter is I haven’t done a NYE party in over ten years. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the more intimate hangs. But after a decade+, perhaps a different approach ain’t such a bad idea. This feeling is likely heightened due to, I dunno, a couple years of pandemic-living maybe? Not this year though, maybe next ha ha.
This time around, I’ma staying largely productive. One thing I’m proud to have finally gotten around to is starting to purge a great deal of my material possessions which—as you might have guessed—include books and comics. Enough to warrant listings on ebay (and thus exposing my shameful taste in literature to the world, oops).
One book I will never list there is this gem of a biography, because it has been read to the point of disintegration and no one would ever wanna buy it in such a condition. Mind, it was already like this when received by Crabapple in the mail, who sent it to me after a conversation over cocktails in Brooklyn back in the summer, during which Crowley’s name was brought up. Neither of us are Crowleyites but we both have varying degrees of interest in the occult. My curiosity is a somewhat more recent, largely ignited by three bits of information:
Modern Art had its beginnings in the occult (which—unbeknownst to the public—kinda makes modern art museums de facto temples of the occult).
Most modern occult movements seem to have been triggered by the European rediscovery of Ancient Egypt (see Napoleon’s Sorcerers and Margaret Murray).
Any interest I might’ve had in Crowley in particular though was largely based on what very little I knew of him; the things that make their way to you without any active research you might embark on on your own. Namely, that he is an occultist with a large following due largely to his efforts in self-publishing. Or so I thought. Reading this book brings every dark crevice of this wicked man’s life to light, and… it ain’t pretty.
Speaking of the occult, I have restocked on my transform existence signature pencils. These are my own personal favorite pencils to draw and write with, and they’re perfect for any artist embarking on what they hope will be a transformative work. I don’t joke when I say it legitimately feels like a magic wand in your hand (not that kind, you filthy animals).
Mythomatic.com, the home of my boutique publishing outfit is finally live. On offer right now are the print editions of THE SOLAR GRID #1-5 produced in collaboration with Radix Media. Mythomatic will be the entity through which I plan on putting out the bulk of my published material, at least initially. And maybe even the work of others as well if financing permits. I have no allusions about taking the world by storm or anything, but I like the idea of putting out weird experimental books and zines, and having a dedicated place for them all. Check it out.
I hope everyone manages to have a fun—but responsible—NYE despite everything, and I hope the new year brings us all nothing but peace, love, and beautiful transformation.
Yours,
Ganzeer
Houston, TX
P.S. For my Arabic readers (are you even here?): Author Ahmed Naji sat me down for a little chat on his podcast over all things migration, artisting, and The Solar Grid! Great conversation with one of the smartest people I know.
We’re here! (Arabic readers :)