Waking the witch

It’s been a time of great personal upheaval and change.

The last six weeks or so have been utterly exhausting: I have ended the longest relationship of my life, moved house once and am preparing to do so again at the end of the week and realised that it’s likely that I have Asperger’s. Writing fiction has been next to impossible in this time, but my work for Dead Unicorn Ventures has continued, along with a doing a couple of interviews. My new abode is – for the first time – my own flat, in central Penzance. I have no idea what living on my own will be like, or even whether I can actually afford to do so, but an opportunity arose that I couldn’t turn down. It will mean that I will be able to write at any time, day or night, that I feel the urge/need. It will also mean that I’ll be able to try to work out what having a diagnosis for Asperger’s – which won’t happen for a year or so – will mean for me. It certainly makes sense of my moods and behaviour over my entire life. Every therapist I’ve ever come into contact with has tried to find a way to ‘fix’ how I am, has told me I have to be able to face crowds of people and big social situations.

I don’t need fixing because I’m not broken. I’m just wired differently to most people.

Not one therapist or doctor has ever suggested I might be on the Autistic spectrum.

As a result of what’s happened recently, I brought forward a decision I’d planned to happen after my death; after talks with Simon Costain of the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, in Boscastle, I will be donating Jhonn Balance’s wand to the museum at the beginning of April. The wand was given to me by Ian Johnstone, but I knew I was only its guardian for a short space of time. This way, people will be able to see it and it will be cared for for generations to come. Obviously, as with all Coil collectables, the wand would probably fetch a large amount of money if I sold it. Money would be extremely useful, of course, but I promised Ian I’d never sell it. I feel happier having made this decision and am very much looking forward to visiting the museum again, and meeting Simon – a big fan of Coil – in a couple of weeks’ time. Photos and a report will be posted here.

Meanwhile, test pages of Dykes Ink have been printed. There have been some technical issues with riso print and DUV is discussing how to resolve these, but we’re still on course to get the first issue out in the Spring. We have been lucky enough to obtain contributions from some excellent female artistes and have enough material to fill a fair part of issue 2. More here as it happens.

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In the midst of death

Photo: Julie Travis

Photo: Julie Travis

Strange fiction and stranger dreams.

We Are All Falling Towards The Centre Of The Earth is nearly 7500 words long and heading towards its finale. Finding the sadness I need to convey in the story is easy – channelling it is difficult and emotionally draining. Once I’ve finished the first draft – which may well be done during my week in Lydford, with its powerful energies (as mentioned in my last post) – I can let it rest awhile and re-draft Parasomnia. I also found the beginnings of another story, The Spoiler, possibly ten years old, which was far better than I remembered it being, so that’s next on the list for when Parasomnia is finished. Story relays are working well for me.

The title of this piece is the title of the photograph I hope will form the the front cover of the second Storylandia collection, a version of the dead deer on the banner of this website, in tribute to Ian Johnstone.

Strange dreams abound, of course, the best of my most recent ones involving a city of gigantic buildings and huge bronze sculptures dedicated to a composer (his name was spoken but had slipped my mind by morning), of me flying along the avenues, heading West, out of the city and all the way to a super-real North Somerset coast and along to a small town located there – Weston-super-Mare. Weston has a lot of Occult/magickal connections – Aleister Crowley, Dion and Coil/Jhonn Balance are names that spring to mind.

UPDATE: NOTES FROM LYDFORD – the energy in this area is as powerful as I’d hoped it would be. We Are All Falling… was finished on my first day here and is now 8700 words long. I found myself unable to stop writing and was in tears when I’d finished. The story’s let me go for a while, and it’s a relief. A more thorough investigation of Lydford village found the church was haunted – or at least held a presence…Something was in there, anyway! Next to the castle we found a Viking stone covered in Runic lettering and in the Castle Inn the witch glasses that I’d seen before were sadly gone, although the strange hexagonal glass was still there and the Green Man appeared to peer out from a place behind the stained glass window of the pub’s door.

 

All images and text: copyright Julie Travis

 

Magickal ink: the 23rd post

I got my first tattoo on my 18th birthday, from Dennis Cockell’s studio, which was then (1985) in the Finchley Road. I knew I wanted to mark my official passage into adulthood, but I only had a vague idea of what to have done. I settled on a Chinese style tiger. The tattooist, Kevin, used the outline of a panther and drew the stripes in freehand. I told him to use every colour he had available, and for years it was a beautiful mass of yellow, orange, black and red. The colours faded over the years, of course, and at one time I was tempted to have it redone, but decided against it – after all, it was a signpost to my 18 year old self. I later noticed that Kathy Acker had a very similar piece, done at the same studio. I was in good company.

Not long after I came out (1994/5ish) I had my left thumb tattooed. A tattooist at Sacred Art in Stoke Newington did a freehand image in black ink, which looks like a cross between a piece of jewellery and an insect hugging my thumb.

My third tattoo is my favourite. It’s also the most powerful one I have. I had moved deeper into Hackney and life was getting heavy there – homophobic attacks were on the increase and there were regular shootings over drug turf. I needed some protection. The Helm of Awe was a fairly natural choice; it’s a striking image, an extremely powerful symbol originally used by Viking warriors, as protection, to induce fear in the enemy and also, I believe, as a compass. I added an eye at the centre to further enforce the reflection of the bad energy that was flowing around the streets. Steve at Into You tattoo studio in Clerkenwell took my scrawled drawing and turned it into what you see in the photo. It was he who added the glint in the eye.

Helm of Awe with central eye

The finished piece, on the top of my left arm, had an incredible affect on me. It took me some time to get used to the power of it. I could clearly see a projection of the tattoo some inches away from my arm and the blue-white shield it cast all around me. Bad energy flowed around, instead of through, me.

Spiral and sea water

I had a fourth tattoo done by Beth at Shoreline in St Ives when I moved to Cornwall. It was a celebratory piece; three spirals surrounded by splashes of sea water. Placed on the top of my right arm, it nicely balances the fierce Helm of Awe. It signifies a more peaceful era of my life.

Photos by Teresa Knight