IO PAN
or Misadventures in Invocation - the Fool’s Journey
had to be, I dunno, back in Spring of 2014 in a very balmy New Orleans. I know- with the Vampire Chronicles, and a plethera of bullshit pop culture occultism it seems cliche as fuck to say that its a magical city. But fuck you, it is.
I was spending far too much time roving the gentrifing area of the Bywater and the Marginy. Here, houses on the wrong side of St. Claude bloom with color on blighted streets, where women holding rainbow striped walking sticks dispense kindness or curses. Catholic churches with crooked effigies of the christ jeer lustily at art collectives. Elderly gentleman kindly banter about Sufism and Kabbalah at the coffee shop on the corner, feeding the sky rats fat on muffin crumbs.
This story is about one drunken night with lovely friend that shared a name with an archangel. And he looked like a Renaissance Enochian magician - tall, long blonde hair, glasses, always carrying and note book and pen to take constant notes with. Anywho, we were both on a destructive tear on a Friday night, and looking to make trouble in the world foremost Scorpio city.
Like any good pair of asshat magicians, we decided it would be a grand idea to drink a bottle of wine each, and recite the Hymn to Pan and invoke the pangenator himself before going out for the night.
WELL FUCK.
Boons:
Didn’t get jumped (witness this happening twice on our walk to the bars)
Free DRANKS
Fist fight victory!
Both got super laid!
Cons:
Somehow lost a shoe
Forcibly removed by bouncer after aggressively arguing in favor of more shots
Minor fistycuffs (dont remember why)
Managed to spend/lose all cash even with free dranks.
Moral of the story: All devourer, all begettor - check your intentions at the door, boys and girls. But don’t forget, Jack Parsons used to shout the Hymn to Pan in the desert before launching a rocket. O phalle, amiright?
