I am being terribly cute right now and no one can see it. I was going to make the Firespinner a mix tape, and then I had a better idea.
See, he’s got a gig he may get that will have him on tour from Oct-Feb, which is awesome. and even if he doesn’t get this gig, him going on tour is inevitable. Thus, mix tapes would be useful. but i had a better idea!
I have enough points on my Dave and Buster’s card to walk in there right now and walk out with an iPod nano. And i know Mr Fireypants a) doesn’t have an ipod right now and b)surely won’t be buying one while money is tight.
So, I get the nano. I get a car charger/adapter thingie. And I make MANY playlists.
So far I’ve made awesome mix vol. 1, because I know he said that mix from the movie makes him happy.
I’m also working on lists such as ‘squishy feels’ and ‘random things you may enjoy’. I’m also including some stuff from my personal Angrboda list, because if this keeps on going, he might as well get to know her a bit better. Regardless of the hard or softness of HIS polytheism, She certainly has opinions. (I’m starting to understand why Odin was always very amused regarding him. Quietly amused, but amused.)
So far though, my favourite mix is the one I’ve name ‘Ain’t no party like a Jotun party’.
If anyone knows any other sources feel free to list them!
Italian witch lore is very old, as there have been legends of witches in this region for a very long, accountable period. The word strega (witch) most likely comes from the Latin strix (screech owl) which witches were thought to take the shape of in the night. The practice of witchcraft is called stregoneria, a male witch is a stregone, and a female witch is a strega. There are more legends of Italian witches in the south (particularly near Naples). One of the most famous is the story of the witches of Benevento, who convened beneath a walnut tree on a hill therein, and danced and worshiped the Devil. This tree was supposedly cut down.
There is a popular image of a witch who arises among Christian tradition in Italy, even still today. This witch is called Old Befana or Bella Befana(Bruta Befana, Bella Befana or Vecchia Befana) who is a good witch who lived alone in a small cottage. One day, three wise men knocked on her door. “Behold! The child of God is born, (yada yada) we’re going to find him and bring him gifts! Will you join us Old Befana?” Now, Old Befana was glad to hear the news and excited to meet the new babe and give it what gifts she could. However, she was not one to shuck her responsibilities so she said she would have to wait until her chores were completed. They agreed and she saw them off, before finishing her cleaning. Once her duties were completed, she packed up her presents for the babe, hopped promptly onto the broom she had just finished sweeping with, and flew out the chimney into the cold night. However, they had not told her how to find them again! Not wanting to deny the boy his gifts, she decided to give some to all the little children she passed on her way, as any might be the new born child of God. Every year on that same night, Old Befana rides out on her broom and deposits gifts for little children, in hopes that one day she will finally find the baby Jesus and give him the presents she has been holding all this time.
In southern Italy, many of the tales of witches (streghe) and folk healers (fattucchiere, or ‘fixers’) tell of the songs they sing to work their magic. Unfortunately, this seems to be all anyone knows on the subject, and I can’t find any references or information on these songs! In lore, the witches of both benevolent and malefic natures are closely related or interchangeable with more faerie-like spirits. The Janare of Naples/Janas of Sardinia (lit. followers of Diana) are magical women said to live in Neolithic shaft tombs and are expert weavers and spinners. They sometimes intermarry with humans, but are very different from the cogas (or little cooks) of Sardinia, who are malefic witches that cook and eat their victims.
Most folk magic in Italy has died out, even in many of the rural areas. What is documented and what remains is all, unsurprisingly, Catholic magic. Much of it draws to saints, prayers, and Catholic holy tools. One name for this form of magic is benedicaria. However, much of it seems more agricultural or magical and less religious in nature. There is no point assuming this other source is pagan, because we could never prove where almost of any of it originated.
Most witchcraft you will find today in Italy, especially in urbanized areas, is of a New Age or Neo-pagan persuasion. Neo-Wicca is about the best you can hope to find, and even that is comparatively rare to that found in Great Britain, Australia, and the U.S.
In conversations about Italian magic and witchcraft, Raven Grimassi’s book Italian Witchcraft tends to come up. THIS BOOK IS UTTER BULLSHIT. HOGWASH. STUFF AND NONSENSE. It’s almost literally just Neo-Wicca with different names and some made up information. I’m not exaggerating. If you have this book, it’s better off as kindling than on your bookshelf. Just saying. Charles Leland’s book Aradia: The Gospel of the Witches is a pretty piece of poetry, and perhaps has some truths in it, but it can never be relied upon. His source is not credible, and the information doesn’t add up well. It is a beautiful book, but not an accurate account of Italian magic or witchcraft.
Here are a few blog posts I have made relating to Italian witchcraft and folk magic:
3. Stop saying “This can’t be happening in America.”
I understand the impulse, I really do. But that impulse only comes to those who are insulated and isolated from how America treats poor people and people of color every day. Langston Hughes wrote “America never was America to me” in 1935. If you didn’t quite understand that poem in your junior high or high-school lit classes, read it again, while you think about what’s happening in Ferguson. Let it sink in.
If you live in an urban environment, you’re in a position to bear witness and document inappropriate and abusive police behavior. If you see an African-American neighbor being detained by police, wait to see what happens. Get your phone out. Download the ACLU’s “Police Tape” app, and if you see something that looks off, take a video that will upload directly to their servers, in case your phone is confiscated. Whatever police may tell you, this is your legal right.
7. Educate yourself about the systematic inequality that leads to civil unrest.
The St. Louis American ran a powerful editorial today that fleshes out the history of Ferguson. When you finish reading that, go somewhere quiet for a bit and settle down with Ta-Nehisi Coates’s “The Case for Reparations.” Don’t stop there.
If you don’t have any African-American friends, you might want to think about why that is.
10. Okay, go ahead and tweet.
And Facebook. Tumblr. Instagram. Vine. Amplify the voices of people on the ground, and help counteract the damaging narratives being propagated by some mainstream media organizations. It’s the very least we can do.
Sometimes i want to get a big ass tattoo on my abdomin in gothis script or something. I knew a dude who had one that said chaos. One of my friends has ‘ginger’ because he is. I think i would get one that says ‘jotun’ in either big gothicy script, or fancy runes.
So there’s a Japanese slang term, ‘chuunibyou’, that roughly translates to “Middle School 2nd Year Syndrome.” It is used to describe the stupid phases people go through when they are 14, like pretend to be really hardcore, act like they know everything, say they have mystical powers, etc.
I say fuck all cops because, rather than be critical and take a stand against their fellow officers, good cops are nowhere to be fucking seen when wild shit goes down. No police officer, especially police chief, gets on the news or social media or some type of fucking platform and says shit about bad cops. So fuck them. Fuck them for standing in camaraderie with corrupt individuals.
When your classmates wrinkled their noses at the scent of your lunch still lingering on your clothes,
Even though their ancestors had conquered half the world in search of the spices you ate.
How they jeered at your mother’s bindi, making crude jokes about how ridiculous it looked on her,
And after ten years, how they all wore the exact same ornament on their own foreheads to keep up with the current trends.
When they repeatedly stumbled over the sharp letters which formed your name, forcing you to repeat yourself several times before giving up;
Only to have those very letters tattooed on their own flesh, in a language they do not comprehend.
Your culture belongs to you,
Not to them.