Open Sorcery is the world of Lazarus Halliwell.

Excellence and batshittery, done on purpose.

Iโ€™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.

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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 Barca Effect: Observations From Experience That Have Kept Us Safe In An Increasingly Chaotic World

    Hi, everyone. I’ve been seeing a LOT of people drawing parallels to Hitler and the Weimar Republic with what’s going on in the US and the world currently, and I want to offer some practical suggestions on how to not comply in advance that have kept my system and others safe for years.

    A bit of background: I come from old money, am an ex Mormon, and taught history as an academic tutor for years. Over the course of this stretch of time, I saw and learned lot.

    One of the biggest things I observed that I’m seeing play out now is from far, far further back in history than Hitler – the story of Hannibal Barca of Carthage.

    Hannibal Barca knew that Rome, his greatest foe, would expect an attack by sea. Rome is situated only a short distance from the coast, and Carthage was predominantly a maritime power. So Rome expected Carthage to attack by sea. Hannibal knew this, and he took the long way, taking an army overland, over the Alps,a route so goddamned insane that nobody believed he would ever pull it off. People saw him coming for months, but because his methods were so implausible, by the time he cleared the Alps, it was too late, and he was terrorizing Italy for the next decade.

    I call this anti-orthodox methodology “the Barca Effect”. It relies heavily on people firmly believing you’re insane or your methods are impossible until it’s too late to effectively stop you. It takes a very long time to effectively set up, but if you do it right, it’s devastating.

    Trump is the master of the Barca Effect, if you look at everything he’s done.

    My mother, Hera, was also the master of the Barca Effect, which is I know such tactics exist on a personal level, and how to effectively counter them.

    A plan like Trump’s and my mother’s relies heavily on most people either turning a blind eye to it, complying with it, or not believing it in time. If you notice, he’s been forced to change course multiple times as information has been leaked and people have been banding together to keep each other safe. Pushing back and sharing information is an effective way to counter such tactics, but an even more effective way to counter it is to, in my experience, push back harder by being more batshit.

    Much of a good Barca Effect plan relies on people ignoring the warning signs of the plan until it’s too late. So make yourself and your community LOUD. If you know what’s going on, don’t shut up about it, travel in numbers. Make people uncomfortable. Be fucking weird. If ICE shows up, refuse them entry unless they can PROVE they have papers signed by a fucking judge. Shout “LA MIGRA” or “ICE IS HERE” in ANY LANGUAGE YOU KNOW. Be a fucking threat to everything they hold dear. Laugh at fascists and make them scared again. Share your moments of joy. Keep making art. Form community, feel your emotions, document the shit out of them loudly. Don’t snitch. Bombard tip lines with memes. Make memes. The sillier the better.

    This is why my system and I mostly shitpost and share cat photos, honestly.

    Because being scared, hopeless, and divided is what this admin WANTS.

    And if someone makes you remotely uncomfortable, learn to make them MORE uncomfortable. It’s saved my life many a time.

    Welcome to the inconvenience store, bitches. I’m your overworked clerk. What can I get ya?

    Stay crotchety, stay hopeful.

    -Allฤ“na

    Here’s a bit about Hannibal if you want to read more โœจ

  • Confession time.

    I saw this post on Tumblr and felt… Things.

    I love men that are so hairy they can’t even hide it like they have hairy ass forearms and it’s creeping up their wrists and knuckles and poking out of the collar of their button up shirtโ€ฆ your slutty whore DNA is bursting at the seams. Whore.

    I honestly love seeing other people like that, and our body is like that. It makes me dysphoric personally for reasons I’ve never been able to quite articulate, but I love seeing this on other people, men or not.

    I do love a sweet man, though. Especially a hairy one…

    Sdtyhffdsdgbjkhhgssaaaaa. I love it when pretty people. That is all.

    -Allฤ“na

  • Sorry I don’t have more cat pictures or anything for y’all today.

    The more I sit with the realization that what my system is dealing with is complex grief about the state of the world and life and things, the more it feels like I’m swimming in an ocean of just… Sadness. I’m safe, it’s just a lot to feel. Hence why I’m writing here. I don’t really know how else to begin deeply processing emotion beyond writing, and I’m feeling the grief so somatically that I don’t have the energy to talk to people individually about it. So I figure word vomiting here is a good place to start.

    I have lost so much. We as a society could have had so much in this past election cycle (Kamala Harris wasn’t great but she sure as fuck wasn’t this) and while I’ve seen TRUE bone chilling right wing terror as an ex Mormon.. This is pretty fucking terrifying. Everyone was warned and they didn’t listen. My system actually foresaw much of this. So we’re just mourning what could have been while trying to do the work, trying to keep our heads above water… And I am tired, deep down in my soul.

    And this realization has led me to sit with the grief and the pain of being chronically ill, psychologically tortured, and often isolated before the election, and I’m doing another round of processing that, too. It feels in a way like I’m falling down a bottomless well of pain and grief. Or maybe I never stopped falling down that fucking well.

    I’m not sure. Either way, it seems to help me breathe a little easier to put words to it however I can. I want to cry. I feel like I need to cry. But I haven’t been able to yet. So I’m just gonna keep working through things in my mind until I’m able to open the floodgates, I suppose. Everything fucking physically hurts in the meantime.

    I’m not going to give up the fight, though. I don’t see the situation here as hopeless. There’s a lot of good happening amidst the bad, and I’m not suicidal or anything. I’m just badly in need of rest and time to sit with this further, so that’s what I’m gonna do.

    Signing off for now,

    -Allฤ“na

    Fediverse reactions
  • I’m so tired today.

    But at least I’m pretty sure that what I’m feeling is complex grief about, well, everything, and burnout as a result.

    Checkmate, alexithymia.

    I’m gonna try my best to take it slow today. I just feel like I have very little to give to anyone and have felt that way for awhile.

    -Allฤ“na

    Fediverse reactions
  • It is Void o Clock.

    When the ancient void kitty needs cuddles, it’s time for photos, I suppose.

    He’s such a good baby.

    -Lazarus

    Fediverse reactions
  • HE’S JUST LIKE ME FOR REAL ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ

    One of my crushes sent me this and it basically hit me in the damn soul and I started crying laughing and had to share it here.

    If I don’t know you or trust you, I would rather do ANYTHING ELSE than acknowledge that you’ve just flirted with me, but believe me, I know, and believe me, I’m Fucking Panicking. Often for YEARS. OOOPS ๐Ÿคฃ

    I do really like this guy, though…

    -Lazarus

    Fediverse reactions
  • That’s Free..

    I am quite tired of it. I’m gonna attempt a nap now.

    -Allฤ“na

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  • The Art of Bitching

    Well, this is an interesting prompt.

    What do you complain about the most?

    I tend to complain a lot about anything that’s difficult or exhausting for me while in the process of doing it. It helps me bypass my executive dysfunction and my deeply rooted perfectionism, which often makes it damn near physically painful to get out of my blanket lump, so cussing about having to do the task makes the task doable.

    It’s one of the joys I have discovered in adulthood, as when I was a child and teen, I was often made to do things without showing a hint of displeasure. My parents insisted that I did everything they wanted “with a cheerful heart”. So I often did, but gave them hell the rest of the time and would find ways to maliciously comply with that rule while doing the task. They learned pretty early that the only way to get me to do anything that I didn’t really give a shit about well was to pay me a king’s ransom ๐Ÿคฃ. But now that I am away from them and better for it, I bitch about damn near everything that I have to do that doesn’t involve being cocooned in a blanket lump while in the process of getting shit done.

    I don’t mind being productive, for the record. I actually quite enjoy it. It just hurts a lot of the time. Bitching about the task at hand gets me to start the process of being productive, and I highly recommend it.

    How do y’all get shit done?

    -Allฤ“na

  • My lap is for the youths, apparently.

    I wish it weren’t, but here we are.

    Damn it, Artemisia. You can be adorable.. Sometimes.

    -Allฤ“na

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  • Tuxie baby got her nails clipped tonight, and this sums up her feelings on the subject.

    Tuxie baby got her nails clipped tonight, and this sums up her feelings on the subject.

    ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ

    -Castor

    Fediverse reactions