Good morning… I was just having the loveliest dream that I was in a garden and I had horns and goat feet, surrounded by beautiful women feeding me grapes and, strangely, pizza. 
I normally go for one drop of A314, but I wanted to invoke dominance.
Two drops of A314, one drop to the fingertip and drawn about my jawline and neck, finger rubbed liberally into my goatee. The other I placed on the inside of my forearms and rubbed them together.
Two shots of IS to the back of my neck.
Then six shots of Spaceland. One to the inside of my forearms, one on top of my foerarms, one to either side of the neck, one to the chest, and then one to the hair.
Lastly, a single shot of Ammo to the chest.
Anyway. Me and my two best guy pals got to the coffee shop by the seashore. It was a hot, humid night, and even the ocean breeze didn’t seem to help.
The poetry was mostly milquetoast and mild. People bitching about their lives and such and that same old, same old, spoken word beat that is old and tired and that I despise. Spoken word has become an art of bitching about how rough you have had it and how you cry alot. So, stereotypical suburb kids trying to act urban and urbane at the same time. “Look at me, I am cool!” Okay, off the soapbox.
My turn comes up. I go up there and I just stare at the crowd, sweeping my gaze across each face until there is silence. I have a bell that I carry with me, and I rang the bell a few times. I raised my hands and began. I spoke of conquest, of taming the beast inside our own minds, of sex and the joys of enlightenment. I talked about grabbing life by the balls and overcoming any obstacle that stands in your way.
I was viscous, loud, and basically did a black magic incantation. Think heavy metal without the music. during the performance, three girls that I know to be very christian (nothing wrong with christians, by the way, to each his own) got up and scurried out.
The cool, serendipitous thing was that behind me, there was an oscillating fan, directly behind my back. As I read, in a hypnotic cadence, the fan blew behind me and delivered the pheromones to the entire audience. Note to self: A fan can be useful.
I brought down the house. Lots of applause. When I was done, some of the more timid girls I know there flocked to tell me I did well.
So me and my pals went outside and sat at the tables and started discussing things, and pulled out the Tarot Deck. We were parked next to a table filled with incredibly hot girls. They were much younger than girls I normally go after, probably in the 18 to 20 year old range. I could tell by their clothing they were the occult friendly type.
So we ignored them. I think the combo I had on was intimidating. I could tell they were interested and wanted to talk to us, but we kept ignoring them. I had a little cone of incense with me that I had decided not to use during the performance, and so I lit it and placed it in an ashtray on the table.
The hits were incredible. I played with my smartphone and was generally disinterested. One of the girls interjected something while I was speaking to my friend, but I ignored her as if I didn’t hear her. Ah, Rejection is a powerful tool. (There is no such thing as black magic…)
I am surfing my phone, and I notice the girls are giving me some looks that are simultaneous displays of intimidation and fascination. Occasionally I would look up and they would catch my gaze, but I would just look beyond them at something else. This was infuriating to them. Pretty girls want to be noticed, and I wasn’t ready to notice them. This was calculated, I intended to drive them so that they would work harder to get noticed. After all, wifey is the most amazing creature in the world, super hot, and was at home… But, what do I need more chicks for? (You can’t fake sincerity, friends.) So I sincerely was disinterested in the girls and more interested in the experiment.
As me and my friends played with the tarot deck, the girls began to speak louder, obviously trying to speak about occult things and to be heard. Key words like Qaballah, Crowley, Witch, Magic, Witchcraft, these words were being said for our benefit.
I noticed that the incense smoke was gently being pushed here and there by the light breeze early on in during the experiment… As the smoke pushed towards the girls every now and then, I got the crazy idea to use it as a guide. When the smoke drifted towards the girls, I wpuld stretch my arms, as if tired, and exhale a deep sigh on my forearms, effectively blowing on them and scattering the particles in the air. I was able to use the incense as a very effective visual guide when to do the blowing. I was pretending to stretch, or sigh, etc., but I think it was effective.
At one point I had decided the game was over, and I wanted to talk to these girls. The tension had reached a crescendo, and they were starting to get agitated. They wanted to approach us but for whatever reason, felt they couldn’t. Probably the liberal dose of A314? Who knows. But they had outright started a conversation on metaphysics for our benefit and were starting to be unhappy with being ignored and were now trying to speak to us directly, but things like “Hey, can I have that ashtray?” and “Wow, what are those cards?”
Serendipity. A hot girl whom we have talked to before about metaphysics showed up, and we were greeted warmly. Turns out she was not only friends with all of the hot girls at the table, but that they actually discuss metaphysics together.
It was on. I gave our friend a deep, sensual hug and told her how pretty she was, and the next thing I know we were introduced, had pulled the two tables together, and were doing tarot readings for pretty girls… Hair twirls, crossing and uncrossing of legs, talking with head to the side exposing the neck… Smiles, eyes blinking…
The body language they exhibited and aimed in my direction was intoxicating. Pretty girls talking rapidly about themselves, trying to explain how cool they are and trying to tell us what they think we want to hear. I was drunk on the attention and enjoying this new mode that the pheromones are allowing me to live in. I was bold, I reached out and held hands, and suddenly became occult romeo. I did not hide my leanings at all, Spoke of Crowley and Bacchus. My best friend is an excellent Tarot reader and he had his hands full with pretty girls as well…
There is no such thing as black magic.
Anyway, so as the night wore on, the body language became more aggressive. When we decided to go, we were asked to stay. Whining ensued. We made plans to meet again next Friday at the shop. We were not allowed to leave until we reluctantly gave out our Facebook pages and phone numbers. We hugged goodbye, and plenty of “nice meeting you’s” and such. They wanna party this coming weekend.
We drove home with the top down, breathing in the ocean air, giving thanks to Bacchus and listening to Slayer.
