Magic. Like all art forms (you watch Ricky Jays cups and balls and tell me it’s not art) require a lot of time and effort. Gladwell says 10, 000 hours.
Like all art forms it can be incredibly frustrating. You get impatient, you get cross, you think about chucking in the towel.
I’ve been merely toying. I do what I normally do when a new interest strikes me. I hyper fixate, buy a lot of gear and books and hope that it’ll get into my head and fingers by, I dunno, osmosis?
There is no substitute for doing the work. None. In any endeavour.
My goal is to get a decent cups and balls routine down. French dropping, sleight of hand, direction (the word misdirection feels wrong. I’m directing you), and patter.
I’ll get it.
The most fun you can have with your clothes on. Unless you’re a nude magician but where would you hide your loads?
Who knows where this will go, if anywhere at all.
This is now just going to be the blog of a 48 year old GenX cishet fella from the North of Ireland/Northern Ireland/Ulster (I don’t care). I’l l keep the waving my fists at clouds to a bare minimum. There’ll be poems and playing cards, opinions and all sorts. Some of it will be an attempt to begin a conversation. I’m tolerant of opposing values and opinions to a point. I simply won’t countenance thoughtlessness, abuse, hate or edge lord trolling nonsense.
I am extending this little corner of t'internet to include other hobbies, passtimes etc. Mediocre poetry, opinionated essays and dreadful watercolours coming your way.
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Munkus Bubbly 