I walk into town to buy a newspaper and consider making an ad.. The visions lay low… the meds seem to be working and i walk on to the newsagent in the centre of town to find myself a copy of the Arkham Enquirer. I pay for it and walk back home reading it, scanning it for those occult ads i could have placed myself.. scoping out the competition. There is none to be found but an aging voodoo priest.. Someone who has earned his mark by constantly effecting enforced change… Enforced by the spirits.. If i make any money for myself this month i will visit him and ask HIS opinion about what Legba wants from me. I walk on till I hit the pawn broker and enter… There my eye falls on the books and There! I see a rare copy of the petit albert. I pick it up and ask how much it is. The propietor says 3 dollars. I reach for my wallet and pay the three bucks. I walk home glowing like a beacon in hell.. Smiling all the way.. I reach my home and there unlock the door and walk straight to the study. Placing the book on the table I make quick connections between the geomantic tetragrams and the i ching as well as sundry other hexagonal systems in an attempt at worshipping the inner beeing. That night i invoke the Goddess Maat in an effort of getting some good connection to the very thing I need most… justice. And there i find a victim of my disposition towards the guardians of justice… The fuzz… I grunt out the last phrases in enochian, I normally sing them, and then A visage of a woman with a feather headdress accosts me and asks “What is the nature of thy relation to the state of things?”

“I don’t rightly know.. I suppose my dark heritage has prepared me for the coming imminence of my demise in hands of something so dire it would eat my soul for dinner and suck out my eyes for breakfast. And I am still not beaten.. I am fighting.. My destiny is unseen for I forge it out of the qualities I perceive. Within myself and within the world. Till I am a balanced state in between non action and action and smile at the world whilst it knows the ever growing benevolence of my magisterium.”

Maat summoned forth an image of her at her most terrible… And said “Behold mine remotest sense of self, bring it to the fore for me and I will reward you with the life of adepthood and magisterium such as the world has not known since Johannes Dee. Or before him Asclepius if that is thy will.”

“Ahhh such is the wine of the gods My ehm Ah yes… Sure! I swear upon the grave of my ancestor that I will serve thee and bring thy darkness to the fore.” went I.