My depth is like a magician’s hat. Out of it comes a spell against stupidity, a banishing of greed, and a question for the ecology of vanity. We laugh at the world’s pretending to put community first when all it does is dig the void. ‘It’s exciting to live with you’, you say, even as I thunder against lies. ‘It’s exciting to live with you too’, I say, ‘because you know the meaning of waiting.’ Today we pick nettles, to prick our tongues with. And tomorrow we learn why there’s magic in the world. So we can see through the fools who never have anything original to say but are good at selling. ‘Is this a new game?,’ you ask, and I say ‘no.’ ‘Speaking against fools is like an act of disemboweling yourself.’ ‘Today we fill ourselves with starlight, and tomorrow we work with the elements.’ ‘It’s exciting to watch you,’ you say, ‘because every tomorrow we find a new grail together’. ‘It’s exciting to watch you too,’ I say, ‘because every tomorrow is holy, and your Viking full-blood recognizes resurrections. ’ ‘Holy, holy, we are good at living the magical life, and today is your birthday. Our theories are called to prove themselves. We say what we mean and do what we say. Self-delusion gets the axe, and we let the crows attend the funeral of idiots. Come wind, come water, come fire, come earth, come furry animals and pale skins, come sun, come moon, come belly of the earth, mother of all, come logic of the wild life, come breath, come birthday, come.’
Happy birthday, my friend. Your gift is one of metamorphoses. If you wait long enough, until I get famous, there’ll be a collector out there who will be willing to pay a lot of money for a deconstructed Lossow and my enchanted spells on the back of each of his plates.
Meanwhile, enjoy, and let us drink a glass of champagne, read fortunes and praise our luck.