my tarot collection

Those of you that know me well understand that I am a strict materialist with little patience for new age mysticism. Nevertheless, I can appreciate the intricate and often sensuous trappings of religious and spiritual belief, and feel that it is foolish to ignore human faith in the otherworldy. As a child, I was particularly drawn to fortune-telling. At first, I suspect this had to do with my burgeoning interest in astronomy - as I memorized more of the constellations, I began to wonder why so many adults infused them with deeper meaning. My mother is a Sagittarius, for example. For many years, I assumed that this meant that on the day she was born, the constellation Sagittarius was prominent in the sky (of the northern hemisphere?). But consider this from Wikipedia:

"The majority of Western astrologers base their work on the tropical zodiac which divides the sky into twelve equal segments of 30 degrees each, beginning with the first point of Aries, the point where the line of the earth's celestial equator and the ecliptic (the Sun's path through the sky) meet at the northern hemisphere spring equinox. Due to the precession of the equinoxes, the slow changing of the way Earth rotates in space, the zodiacal signs in this system bear no relation to the constellations of the same name but stay aligned to the months and seasons."

I can understand why ancient peoples imbued meaning into the movement of heavenly objects. The notion of a universe ticking away without a divine Watchmaker is modern and non-intuitive. Babylonians mapped the heavens and could predict the occurrence of eclipses. But they also believed those events were dictated by supernatural forces and the machinations of higher deities, and used that information to forecast the fortunes of country and king.

Modern astrology, however, falls solidly in the camp of "nonsense that I can make fun of." I mean, let's be clear about this. Astrology prescribes that the location of the earth, relative to the sun, on the day that you're born somehow impacts your genetic makeup, which in turn determines aspects of your personality. Perhaps if scientists discover someday that gravitational force can affect mutation rates (in non-random ways), then I'll buy into this system. Good luck with that.

Then there's palmistry, which I have a little more patience for - probably because people seem to take it less seriously. I own, in fact, a particularly good book on the topic. And I can confirm that it is indeed, a decent way to make initial physical contact with a cute girl (don't tell Aili I said that... oh, wait). Plus, it is amusing to tell people that they're destined to live a short but passionate life and see them nod vigorously - as if anyone wanted to live a long, tedious existence.

But above all else, I love the tarot reading. When I was still in junior high, my mother bought me my first tarot deck and asked me to learn how to read her future. I was intrigued. My mother was not speaking tongue-in-cheek. The cards were interesting and each image was heavily imbued with symbolic meaning. As I practiced on my mother, my high school girlfriend, and later, some of my college roommates, I eventually saw tarot in a different light. It was not about future-prediction - it was fundamentally about story-telling. The cards are laid out in a specific temporal pattern, the images identify characters and major plot twists, and it's simply your role to link the revealed narrative to what you know about the person sitting in front of you. Place them at the heart of the adventure. Regardless of what you say, as long as the story is interesting and relevant - and it will be, since tarot symbolism is universal and archetypal - your querent will be satisfied.

Over the years, I've picked up a number of tarot decks for my small collection. I no longer do readings, I guess I just don't find the process interesting anymore - but I take great pleasure in looking at the artwork and interpreting the symbolism. Here are my four favorite tarot decks that I currently own:

Tarot of Marseille (Spanish version)

(The Fool, The Sun, Death)

My most traditional deck. The original Marseille tarot decks first appeared in the 17th century, and various artisans within France, Spain, Italy, and Germany began to print their own regional version. Each card was originally printed from a woodcut, and the cards were later colored either by hand or the use of stencils. There are 22 Major Arcana cards (attributed to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet), and 56 Minor Arcana (40 "pips" and 16 "courts") in the traditional suits of Swords, Coins, Cups, and Batons. The examples from my deck above show some interesting details. The Fool is the only major arcana left unnumbered (and note the dog nipping at him, representing the call of the "real world"). Death (#13) is unnamed. The Sun is a joyful card that you hope to see in any reading. I picked up this deck during my first visit to Spain.


The Thoth Tarot (Crowley & Harris)

(Lust, The Tower)

Every tarot collector has a copy of this one, and for good reason. Harris' artwork is unique and evocative. Closer inspection of The Tower, for example, reveals a cubist approach that is meant to evoke feelings of chaos and ruin. Crowley referred to this deck as The Book of Thoth, and also wrote a book of that title as an interpretive guide (which you can read, in its entirety, here - thank you google books!). Several of its Major Arcana deviated from the traditional Rider-Waite script:

Rider-Waite/Thoth equivalent

I: The Magician/The Magus
II: The High Priestess/The Priestess
VIII: Strength/Adjustment
XI: Justice/Lust
X: Wheel of Fortune/Fortune
XIV: Temperance/Art
XX: Judgement/The Æon
XXI: The World/The Universe

The substitution of Lust for Justice is particularly notable. I have never actually used this deck for reading, as the symbolism and imagery are a little too esoteric for my taste. If you want a feel for how the deck works, visit this site for a sample "reading" (although you'll have to do all the narrative processing).


Tarot of the 1001 Nights (Léon Carré)

(The Magician, The Devil, The Sun)

The newest addition to my collection, Aili bought this for me as a Christmas present. Leon Carre originally painted these exquisite miniatures for an edition of Sir Richard Burton's late nineteenth century translation of the 1001 Nights that was published in twelve volumes in the late 1920s. The artwork is correspondingly intricate and detailed (click on the image for a larger version) and each card is worth extensive examination. The Devil as Djinn is wonderful. Compare The Sun card here, showing a rising sun over a beautiful port town, with the Marseille one above.


The New Orleans Voodoo Tarot (Louis Martinez)

(click for larger image)

My favorite deck. Absolutely breath-taking art and symbolism. Composed of 22 Major Arcana (+ a wild card), 40 spirits (instead of pips), and 16 temples (instead of court cards), organized into four elemental suits of fire, water, air, and earth. This deck came with a detailed book that provides a symbolic explanation for each card; however, use of this deck for actual readings is rather unwieldy. Pictured here are the following cards:

Les Barons (The Barons): the wild card; the guedeh barons; voodoo spirits of death; suave, debonair, live happy and live well, for even the most rich and talented, or the most poor and resourceful people are not spared the ultimate universal experience of death

Hounsis: shows a woman providing a spirit entrance to the safe abode of a govi, an earthen vessel used to house “loa,” or spirits of the dead

Damballah Wedo: the Great Serpent, hanging from the branches of the Sacred Tree; the falling eggs represent the potential for action

Yemaya: as she gives birth, she fills the sea

perdido street station & animal welfare

It's bad form to opine about something you haven't fully experienced yet, such as an unfinished book. But Perdido Street Station is a provocative work of fiction and I'm beginning to suspect it offers layers of analysis beneath its steampunk veneer. Written by China Miéville, a rising star in the competitive world of fantasy/sci-fi literature, it offers up an intriguing cast of characters living in a deep, unique setting.

New Crobuzon is a steaming, dirty city, in which various humanoid species live and work amidst Victorian-era technology. Science and "magic" intertwine in complex and sometimes disturbing ways - as in the Remade: re-constructed criminals whose punishment is to have certain body parts added or altered (a woman who shakes her baby to death because of its crying has the baby's arms attached to her face). To some, the Remade are a symbol of the corruption and fascism of the ruling elite. There is a subtle current of socio-political commentary in Perdido Street Station, which never seems to detract from the continually evolving plot. Lately, I've been getting the feeling that one of the many issues Mieville is interested in exploring is animal welfare.


Without throwing too many spoilers out, the plot centers around a renegade scientist, Isaac, who takes on a difficult contract with a mysterious garuda. The garuda are basically bird-men - they have humanoid bodies, avian heads, and large wings - who live in a proud, nomadic desert society. Yagharek is an exiled garuda who has sawed off his own wings as a form of self-punishment. The reasons behind this are vague and yet to be determined. But he comes to Isaac hoping to regain the ability to fly, without which he has lived in a world devoid of meaning or joy.

As a scientist, Isaac is fascinated by the project and his first step is to study the biomechanics of flight by collecting samples. He sends out word to the New Crobuzon underworld that he's paying for any animal capable of flight, and pretty soon his entire laboratory is full of live specimens. Here's how chapter 11 begins, and while it provides a realistic description of a scientist at work, it also seems to offer a subtle critique:

"A pigeon hung cruciform on an X of darkwood on Isaac's desk. Its head bobbed frantically from side to side, but despite its terror, it could only emit a bathetic cooing. Its wings were pinned with thin nails driven through the right spaces between splayed feathers and bent hard down to pinion the wingtip. The pigeon's legs were tied to the lower quarters of the little cross. The wood beneath it was spattered with the dirty white and grey of birdshit. It spasmed and tried to shake its wings, but it was held. Isaac loomed over it brandishing a magnifying glass and a long pen. 'Stop fucking about, you vermin,' he muttered, and prodded the bird's shoulders with the tip of the pen. He gazed through his lens at the infinitesimal shoulders that passed through the tiny bones and muscles. He scribbled without looking at the paper beneath him."

Later, one of his colleagues sacrifices the bird with a twist of the neck. Is there an irony here? Death to a pigeon (or butterfly, or hawk), in pursuit of flight for a (humanoid) garuda? Does this irony pervade all of our own animal experimentation? Why is the life and well-being of a human worth more than the life and well-being of a non-human? As a scientist who works with rats, I'm sensitive to these kinds of questions. One's work can often be justified through its utilitarian value: a cure for cancer is worth the lives of many mice. But is Isaac's work, meant to help a single flightless garuda, worth the suffering and death of dozens of non-sentient animals? To his credit, Mieville never flaunts these issues in your face; he lets you discover and explore them on your own.

Here's a later scene, depicting a slaughterhouse in the slums of New Crobuzon. It is vivid and disgusting, and perhaps meant as another subtle critique:

"Again and again the massive, terrified pigs dropped from the alley in a flailing organic mess, legs folded in unnatural angles against their guts, again and again they were cut open and bled dry on ancient wooden stands. Tongues and flaps of ragged skin dangled, dripping. The channels cut into the abattoir floor burst their banks as a swamp of dirty blood lapped against buckets of giblets and bleached, boiled cows' heads."

Nothing new to those familiar with what goes on daily in American slaughterhouses, but rare to see in a work of fantasy. One begins to wonder if there is deeper meaning to these scenes, especially since New Crobuzon is depicted as a bustling, cosmopolitan city with a diseased soul. The disease is often expressed in explicit terms, and Mieville seems to derive pleasure from inducing disagreeable sensations within his reader as a means of infusing his city with life. I have been fascinated by this book since getting past the 1st chapter, and I'll be sure to let you know my final thoughts and opinions.

zombie miniatures

I've never gotten into miniatures, but I understand the impulse. There's the collecting-addiction thing, there's the small-version-of-something- big thing, there's the painting-hobby thing, and there's the let's-play- with-them thing. Miniatures hold a special place in the ubergeek gaming world, and some of the big names include: Warhammer 40,000 (old school), Mageknight, and HeroClix (new school).

Once you get your mini's, you've first got to paint them...
Then you make some terrain...
Then you play...
Of course, some people go overboard - but isn't that the whole point of a hobby?

There are also non-gamers who purchase & paint miniatures just to collect them. A few weeks ago, I was surfing the web for all-things-zombie and encountered this fun site reviewing dozens of zombie miniatures. Here are some sample pics, and I assume all these mini's were lovingly painted by the blog-author:

(classic, headless/armless/legless zombies)

(note the fine surface detail in these; muscle & bone)

(minis for all your zombie needs -
incl. if you want to model MJ's Thriller video!)

clinic

A regular visitor to my playlist is the 4-piece band, Clinic. Hailing from Liverpool, they're been delivering dark indie melodies since 1997 and recently released their 4th full-length album, Do It! I discovered them in 2002 when their album Walking with Thee came out. This, incidentally, was the same year that Interpol released Turn on the Bright Lights, and together these 2 albums dominated much of my musical consciousness for a period of time.

People call these bands post-punk, and I guess I've never really known what that means. But then again, I also never really paid much attention to Joy Division, who is the theoretical progenitor of this movement. But I'm looking forward to seeing the movie, Control, so maybe I'll learn something about the historical tradition here.

Song-list

01 Harmony
02 The Equaliser
03 Welcome
04 Walking with Thee
05 Pet Eunuch
06 Mr. Moonlight
07 Come Into Our Room
08 The Vulture
09 The Bridge
10 Sunlight Bathes Our Home
11 For the Wars

I hate to use hackneyed words like "brooding", "haunting", ""hypnotic", etc. but that's the sound and feel of Clinic. It's like they're recording in a giant cavern beneath the earth. I almost never understand what their lyrics are... and no wonder. Here are some, from one of my favorite tracks, Cement Mixer:

petey was the fetid son of pauline up on milk
commie ma the 2nd czar would do do for the filth
oh we know you come and go but see see sickened us
we need scores shit teeny bores that bark bark bark in crufts

be bark i know noone nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn no (x3)

joely saw the pinky core of neutered hippy homes
binky watched the babble pox and slithered off to moan
oh we know you come and go but see see what's become
peter's cold has taken hold and he bark bark bark in crufts
(repeat chorus)

so sue the shoe is slipping you don't dither from behind
may the moke our 7th bloke is peeking out the blinds
oh we know you come and go but see see what's become
peter's gone and left your mum to bark bark bark in crufts
(repeat chorus x2)

Seriously. Here's a video of them singing this one. I haven't personally seen them live, but apparently they're into wearing surgical masks while they perform (Clinic, get it?). Whatever floats your boat.



Give them a try if you like whiny along the lines of Velvet Underground, Interpol, Radiohead, and Arcade Fire.