raszy

@rrzzyy@sunny.garden
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95 Posts

On 'Sofie's Mountain', Sweden.

Formerly at weirder.earth & merveilles.town. Seeded anew in sunny.garden.

wwwhttps://raszy.xyz/

Via an antiquarian auction house I acquire a facsimile of Johansson's manuscript, 'Signerier och Besvärjelser: Svartkonst från Lappland' ['Spells and Conjurations: Black Arts from Lapland'] alongside its companion, 'Salomoniska Magiska Konster' ['Salamonic Magical Arts']

The two slim volumes (printed by G Wendelholm förlag AB, who also handled the original editions) arrive in purple faux-velvet papers bound with coarse hand-rolled twine, an ostentatious wrapping concealing lurid red covers set with thick black letterpress plates

A well known impression of Johansson, a skull and crossbones, two disembodied hands touching fingers

Included is a small calligraphic note conveying thanks for a prompt payment and a playful warning to, 'use wisely the knowledge within'

I open both books with the caution of amulets, charms, talismans

#Journal

Today's mood: A screenplay where Tony Leung misses a potential reconnection with Maggie Cheung (who in the film will wear forty-six different dresses and spend five hours a day in hair and makeup) because, "love is all a matter of timing".

#TodaysMood

I will go out and deal with that when it stops snowing. Which lucky for me is going to be never. Ever.

ccccccCCCCCCRACK ... KEERRRRRAAAAACCCCKKKKK .. THHWWWOOMP!!

Something new falls in the forest.

1910, Carl Larsson works for three years on his painting, 'Breakfast in the Green', depicting itinerant South Sámi man Jon Johansson fiddling in a grove of white birch and willow-green grasses

In the painting Johansson wears a dark brown gápta and reclines in a wooden lawn chair, on the ground lays his burnt-orange travelling sack drawn with twine, at his feet sits a blonde-haired boy listening intently

To his left a young woman in a long white dress leans (daydreaming?) against a tree while, in the background of the painting, an upper-class family sets a bucolic picnic spread of flowers, porcelain, silver spoons

#Journal

Journal number seven is taking shape. Bones in place. Although I spend an unreasonably long time writing my brief missives (you would be shocked, dear reader, aghast! to see the amount of research I do around my little framing devices) it does feel rather pleasant to keep the project humming along in the background, amidst a sea of other abandoned and aborted ideas.

Today's mood: This photo of Maud Gonne.

#TodaysMood

Two pots of coffee deep. I have escaped yesterday's mishap with only painful bruising. Still, a good excuse to spend the day on the sofa reading small press lit mags.
I wake at 04:30 with the impulse to begin a new daily diary. (We'll see how long that lasts). The thermometer on the outside of the kitchen window reads minus 11 degrees. The thermometer on the kitchen wall reads plus 13 degrees. I put on my favourite oversized wool jumper and kindle a fire in the stove, get an early pot of coffee brewing.

While chopping firewood in blizzardy snow I managed to strike myself in the temple with a lump of flying birch. As I write this I may have a mild concussion. I certainly have a throbbing headache and a bandaged gash on the right side of my face.

Feeling a little discordant. Welcome, February!