I don't think of myself as a superstitious person. This, despite Erik once keeping a list of my Geasa. I play games, mostly; hold taboos for kicks and whimsy and then talk about them as if they're real. I pick up my feet going over railroad tracks to keep bad luck away, touch the roof of a car three times going through a yellow light to add three seconds of great sex to my life, never choose my own fortune cookie just in case. These are games, and I don't believe in magic.
But I know all about it. I know about contagion, taking on an object's properties by taking it into yourself. Eat your enemy's heart to gain his strength, drink mercury to live forever. I know about sympathy, suggesting the change you want to make in the world by mirroring it in ritual. Stab the doll, which looks like a person, to cause that person pain.
I don't believe in magic but, sometimes, a little bit of home sorcery is the easiest thing in the world. Especially when you abandon the traditional trappings. A strand of hair? A drop of blood? A pinch of soil? Old-fashioned, out-dated nonsense. But an alumni t-shirt? A cup of Starbucks coffee?
That's sympathy and contagion for the post-modern age.
Countdown: 51 days