night sweats

Night sweats, intense dreams, body aches. No, I don’t have Covid. I have anxiety and arthritis and these new symptoms are super unpleasant.

In the absence of having anything to say about anything, here is some unedited, untagged dialogue I wrote for no reason, unattached to any project.

“When you said you had the money, that was a lie. Right?”
“And when you said you didn’t know where Lanny was, that was also a lie.”
“Yes, but..”
“No buts. Why are you coming clean now? What more are you keeping from us?”
“That’s all. I didn’t kill her. I don’t even know anything else about it. I didn’t mention the money because I needed the money. I felt bad about it so I brought it back.”
“Ok. Here’s the thing, you can swallow this pill and then try to answer with a little more truthfulness, or we can inject you with that big ass needle and get the same results. I’m indifferent. Are you?”
“I’m cooperating. You don’t have to do that.”
“Last chance for you to make a choice.”
“Fine. I’ll take the fucking pill.”
She took the pill. They waited.
“Ok, should be taking effect now. Is your name Janet Delubak?”
“Are you 31 years old?”
“What happened to LaNell, Lanny, Thompson?”
“The old gods are returning. Long have they slept at relativistic speed in an arc though the galaxy and now they return. Woe. Woe. Woe. The events of the last century of man are here.”
“What the fuck is this shit?”
“Did you give her too much?”

We all “waste time.” Try to recycle it.

Talk & Talk

People talk and talk and talk. My silences offend them.

Micah_Chaim 11/23/2020

I dowse it out. I sense for my emotions in the dark. I find no words. Only shapes.

What doesn’t get a vote in my emotional wellbeing anymore:

  • The disappointment of others in me
  • The projections of others onto me
  • The demands for my attention leveraged on the guilt from the above
  • Externalities of any sort, I reject you

This is a start. Time to write.


My personal mythology is something I left behind with you.

In university, I was often told to unpack my concepts and I did. For you, I tried another approach. I performed a magic trick. Yet, it was easily forgotten. The jokes stopped and you stopped.

A strange bleeding reality among competing realities makes its way in a storm of time. Unpacked, I showed you in Eudaimonia and in The Seekers’ Tarot, that what you see is only part of the picture. A real among reels of reals. I showed you a path through the void. I showed you alternative mythology. Did you follow? How far did you get?

Words and images and my little acts of power.

New Abaddon

My appeal to you is my mythology. I need you to spread my works to your friends, lovers, and enemies. Send them to me. Find me again. Lure me out of this New Abaddon. Resolve my personal myth.

With love,



The Seekers’ Tarot, book and deck, will be fully available for order on Halloween. See the first reading with the deck here, by cocreator Lynn-Cee Faulk.

I’ve talked quite a bit about Eudaimonia and The Seekers’ Tarot. Go down this rabbit hole. Contact me with any questions.

Get In

Christophe Honoré – Métamorphoses

Mark Romanek – The Perfect Drug (Nine Inch Nails music video)

Ken Russell – Altered States based on book by Paddy Chayefsky

Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij – The OA

Raphael Bob-Waksberg and Kate Purdy – Undone

Stephen King – Firestarter

Nine Inch Nails – Ghosts

Cigarettes After Sex – entire catalog

Fabrice Gobert – Les Revenants

I’ve put myself out there in the ghost walk.

It’s so late, or early. I’m all talked out. I feel pressure. Atmospheric. Gravitational. And it presses inward. Are you still there? Are you still seeking? I must have dissolved out of your world, cut from your life like cropped photos of an ex.

I remember when.


In the season of mists and images, I am a pilgrim in a world populated by ghosts. I spend my days in the past. The future is closed to me. The dream permeates all visions of all things and I know on the outside, I’ve got a book and tarot deck going live. Early orders are being fulfilled. The sense of expectation that I do something about this is real and not real.

Promises, my loves, are an empty currency. Visit my shop. Take a look around, but don’t look for me anywhere. I haven’t moved on, but inward and backward. Who knows, I might surface one day, but not today.