Just to prove that I practice what I preach, this necklace will be forming part of my performance attire. Its history and construction have imbued it with certain powers, and I want them on me.
The rune. I’m not big on runes. I dig tarot, but runes are not my area of expertise. (At one point I will write a post explaining how I can read tarot but also believe in science. I’m not a fuckin hippie. And fuck the ‘New Age’.) Anyway, the rune is Perth or Perthro. The dice cup, source of fate, fated to be on my necklace because it’s the only rune I had with a hole handily bored through it. (Sometimes) free choice is an illusion.
So hey, don’t you think my magic necklace is fun? It’s got all kinds of secret powers and personal meanings, but you’ll never know what they are. The rules of successful magical work are: To know, to will, to dare, to keep silent.
Arguably writing a fucking blog boasting about it isn’t keeping particularly silent, but this is more an aesthetic boast. My plastic fantastic irony tat-maximalist look deserves attention.
And yes, that is one of Barbie’s stilettos on there. It’s orange. Matches my lipstick.