These last 13 years, I’ve had a wild love affair with Brooklyn. She enchanted me, seduced me. I have evidence of the spells she’s put on me.
She speaks to me from messages scrawled on her walls….
…to signs slipped in her subway cars that I catch on a 3am ride home after a show…
Words are my favorite kind of magic.
Revolution is born in their curves.
There is alchemy to be found in alphabets.
There are spells hidden in syllables.
Written words sometimes carry more weight than spoken words.
We are very visual creatures.
I do what moves me with my magic. And nothing moves me like words.
My world is made magic by the lure of language.
Perhaps even the pages of this diary are a spell to enchant you.
What do you think about that?
Pieces of my DNA are woven in the codes of letters I type. My thoughts, my raw feelings, the hidden corners of my mind….cracked open for your perusal. For your pleasure.
And for mine.
The wizardry of words can move my imagination to soar.
They can take me far away and slide me into a daydream….
That’s my brand of magic:
The Voodoo of Vocabulary.
What’s your story?
Tell me…if you were to write something and post it on a wall….what would it be?
What do you have to give to the world?
It could be a poem of yours, a phrase, a feeling…give it.
Work your magic on me.
Let the comment section be your walls….and scrawl, my Love.