From: A Praise Poem Of Sulgi (Sulgi E)

From: a praise poem of Sulgi (Sulgi E)

“No one shall ever let any of it pass from memory ……. It shall not be forgotten, since indestructible heavenly writing has a lasting renown.” -a dude from roughly 6,000 years ago dictating to his scribes as they write on clay tablets, probably If anyone questions why I worship Nisaba, see the above text.

Maybe I should practice mindfulness more often, because I just realized that I’m surrounded. Laptop, tablet, and smartphone all doing different tasks on a hardwood desk that wouldn’t be out of place at a nunnery, a wooden chair under my butt of the unique strain that falls between “looks painful” and “not so bad”, the night sky on my right and endless library shelves to my left (as well as below on the lower story). What snapped me into this realization was the word “epeolatry” floating behind my eyes like so much steam from a coffee cup, and the resulting rapid-fire joke that doesn’t make sense at less than the speed of thought.

If there was a stereotype for devotees of Nisaba, if such a thing had enough traction to be a stereotype, then this four-eyed girl with a lamassu pin- tablet and stylus in hand- might qualify.

My Life as a Modern Cheap Pagan

-buying cigarette lighters and being finicky about the design on the side

-trying and failing to make my own incense, buying it from the gas station in the meantime

-bulk tea lights

-salt dough and Sculpey and postcards for altar pieces

-that one incense holder I bought years ago at an anime convention

-buying apples with a discount from work

-homemade sugar cookies

-collecting wild water

-splurging once in a while for wine or dates

-praying after 10pm so the UPS man doesn’t see my female presenting nips

-my ace roommate not giving two flying fruitcakes about my female presenting nips/origami animal sacrifice/excessive candles so long as the fire alarm doesn’t go off

-squeaking with delight at the sight of jewelry that could fit my gods, then wincing at the price tag

-making my own religious jewelry because I reject your reality and substitute my own

-living that scribe life with my tablet and stylus and 46GB of data

-living that scribe life and running out of data

-praying to find my car keys

-doing my job with more care than fast food probably deserves because my gods approve of hard work

-knowing exactly how bad I am at practicing what I preach, looking my dirty dishes in the face, and then going back to reading fanfic in bed

there have been a lot of truly extraordinary literary works produced in the past century but the harsh truth is the written word peaked with the epic of gilgamesh, enheduanna’s prayer to inanna, and whoever was so mad at ea-nasir that they had a bad yelp review carved into stone

if you ask for spiritual help from someone - advice, ritual, divination, what have you - and the answer includes anything fishy along the lines of “your medication is clouding your vision” or “to find an answer we might need a more… intimate ritual” or “I will help you but I need you to focus on me and not your other friends” or anything, anything giving off the vibe of manipulation or grooming, you have the right given by all the old gods and shadows roaming this earth to devour said person, gnaw on their bones, and spit on their entire bloodline.

you don’t need to go to a prestigious university or an exclusive boarding school to get dark academia vibes. you can be a pretentious brooding scholar at your local public high school as well. leave books on renaissance paintings and ancient rituals open on library desks. write ominous notes in the margins of textbooks. quote byron on the bathroom stall door. wear an unmistakable scent of perfume, so when you enter a classroom, everyone knows that you’ve arrived. cut your hair in the sink of the science lab. slip roses into random lockers. surround yourself with a few number of close friends and form your own secret circle. gain a reputation. have whispers follow you down the hallways. I would, however, advise against murder.