The dictionary defines this sinking feeling as the “temporary inability to respond to a situation or perform a function, because of overexposure or overactivity.”
Often, married men ask me to make their respective wives disappear. Why? So they can marry someone else and then ask me again to make her disappear? I don’t know why, but they do ask me to do that so often I’m going to pull my teeth next time they ask me.
At last week’s party, a single guy, with a busty girl in tow, asked me to work my magic on her, so he could take her home. It didn’t occur to him that if I could really work my magic on her, I’d take her home myself.
A waiter in another event implored me to divine the identity of the thief who stole his wallet. What I divined instead was that he was watching too many episodes of Psychic Detectives on television.
Often, someone would ask me to turn his P20 into P1, 000 bill. He is usually dense enough not to realize that if I could turn P20 into P1, 000, I’d stuff the P1, 000 bill in my wallet and run away with it.
Even while playing tennis, when I return a ball weakly, and it hits the net, rolls on the cord for a moment and falls off irretrievably on the opposite court, my opponents would complain, “You’re using your magic power to score a point!”
Sometimes I long for a normal life, something away from magic—away from thumb tips, silk handkerchiefs, invisible threads, Elmsley Count, etc.
I’ve never got that chance. Nary a day passes without magic raring its head and intruding into my life.
I have tried to draw my attention from magic to find some other interests. I studied Mandarin to distract my mind. I read Stephen Hawking. I studied philosophy, history and religion. All this to no avail.
Mandarin, being a Chinese language, just reminds me of the Chinese Linking Rings.
Reading Stephen Hawking just makes me muse over his theory of the beginning of the universe; he theorizes that the universe spontaneously created itself. That to me sounds like the magical appearance of something from nothing.
Philosophy? Hmm…Equivoque, magician’s choice, too-perfect theory, a large movement covers the small movement—they all insinuate into my mind. Guess what? They are philosophies about magic.
Studying history just brings to my mind Robert Houdin and the great magicians of the past.
Religion? Wow, Moses parted the Red Sea. If you asked me, that’s the greatest and most memorable magic performance of all time. David Copperfield‘s vanish of the Statue of Liberty pales in comparison.
So you see, in my daily life, no matter what I do, magic butts in. I have this feeling magic is written in my DNA, and there’s no escaping it.
I’m not complaining. It’s just that sometimes I would like to enjoy a respite from magic.
So today I’ll push magic away from my life. I’ll do nothing remotely connected with it. I’ll read something profound—Charles Dicken’s “David Copperfield.”
Oh geez…Not again.