Open Sorcery

Open Sorcery is the world of Lazarus Halliwell.

Excellence and batshittery, done on purpose.

I’m Lazarus. I make art, music, poems, plays, and magic for the quiet, brilliant, broken ones. If that is you, welcome home. I adopt your kind.

[Subscribe to my email list and I’ll send you a track I don’t remember recording.]

More about me here.

Please note that, with rare exceptions, any and all names mentioned in this blog are pseudonyms except our own. We want to be able to speak freely without doxxing anyone.

Blog

  • The world is a lot right now.

    In all honesty, our phone is on Do Not Disturb to avoid the constant onslaught of news and we are messaging very few people to preserve spoons.

    One of us (I forget who) saw a post a few days ago that talked about how a therapist was saying that a desire to build an off grid self sustaining farm and never come back to society was a manifestation of exhaustion and burnout, and whoever it was felt so called out that they almost started crying.

    You don’t say that it’s a manifestation of exhaustion and fucking burnout, anonymous therapist! Society is fucking exhausting! Why do you think I rarely front around most people? They fucking exhaust me and burn me out!

    I would do unholy things for an off grid, self sustaining farm if this body weren’t fucking allergic to the outdoors.

    I know my body couldn’t handle the work to maintain it, let alone the lack of infrastructure, etc., and that  fucking kills me. So I settle for being a housebound art gremlin in the city with hopefully half decent OpSec.

    No amount of money can fix this particular yearning of ours, sadly. What’s the point of having money to buy land for a self sustaining farm if you can’t fucking work the farm without killing yourself? And what’s the point in having money for a farm even if other people you love lived on it with you if you can’t go outside eighty percent of the year to enjoy it? Even if I wanted to simply sit outside, it would hurt me too badly for most of the year than the enjoyment would be worth.

    Unfortunately, we’re learning our limits, and that comes with a fair amount of grief.

    Fuck. This hurts. This hurts so bad.

    I’m gonna go grab a snack and nap or make art or something.

    -Castor

  • Damn it, River.

    My fucking headmate thought it was an excellent and hilarious fucking idea to schedule a neurologist appointment on the day our father died of brain cancer nine years prior and then make me handle it. At least Lazarus had the fucking foresight to get it switched to a virtual appointment several damn days ago so I didn’t have to go anywhere.

    I’m never letting Mr. Batshit For Brainholes schedule anything ever again. This wasn’t fucking funny.

    But at least we have that out of the way, and an EEG is scheduled for February 18. They might strobe the fuck out of our brainhole during that, so brace yourselves for utterly batshit post seizure posts from us truly. 😭

    Fun fucking times. Thank you, Lazarus, for your excellent harm reduction work. At least you didn’t try to punk me for once.

    I somehow summoned the energy (likely due to sheer irritation at River’s bullshit idea of a joke) to put clothes on and then shave my face later, so have selfies in honor of this most dubious occasion.

    My left hand does whatever the fuck it wants, I guess. But at least this was a nice bit of gender euphoria today.

    Once more, with my entire ass, FUCK YOU, RIVER.

    -Allēna

    Fediverse reactions

  • We might not be super active today.

    It’s February 5th here, the day our dad, Xavier, died, nine years ago. I woke up a few hours ago, blinked, realized what day it was, thought about all the bullshit going on in the world, thought “Nope”, and went right the fuck back to sleep for another several hours.

    Xavier was known for both hibernating through the winters, trying his damnedest to get me to rest, and treating himself and everyone he loved. I think this is what he would have wanted.

    Sláinte, Dad. This day of rest is for you. I’m trying. I really am.

    -Allēna

    Fediverse reactions

  • So I sorta snapped.

    And republished our second poetry collection, To Dance With a Cyclone because I got very angry at everything and was tired of doing nothing. So I decided to do something that wasn’t nothing about it. I’m gonna see about our other works here shortly. But for now, I need rest. Goodnight, world.

    Grab your copy here.

    -Lazarus

  • I’m bored, so have a collection of memes that describe my headmate Castor.

    He’s the system’s original host, and is known for showing up, giving Zero Fucks, Saying Very Cryptic Things, and then disappearing again.

    What a fucking guy.

    -Lazarus

  • Moonie Child may be a small calico baby, but her behavior is proof that orange cat behavior and calico behavior are sometimes one and the same.

    I can dangle this tiny girl practically upside down and she’s totally okay with it! What a sweet nugget.

    -Lazarus

    Fediverse reactions

  • Véra babycat, caught in the act of being beautiful.

    I love my evil genius tuxie cat so much 💛

    -Allēna

    Fediverse reactions

  • Lazarus at the world right now:

    Reblog of Jac (@dairyqueenslime.bsky.social):

    That's me on the toilet
    That's me in the bathroom 
    Shitting in the toilet

    Mood. Frankly, mood.

    -Allēna

  • A nice day alone (so far)

    Yesterday was a fuckin doozy, but I’m alone today at Emerson’s and just chilling out so far with tiny cats. Here’s Moonie child.

    I cannot believe Lazarus named this cat MOON UNIT… 😭😭😭🤣🤣

    She’s the sweetest little thing, though.

    -Allēna

    Fediverse reactions

  • My brain is sad, so have photos of our foster kitten and her mom.

    We call the baby Sean Connery Nugget and the mama cat Mama, usually. Why is the baby Sean Connery Nugget? No fucking clue. You’d have to ask Lazarus. Anyway, enjoy these photos, and I hope your brain hurts less than mine.

    -Allēna

    Fediverse reactions