Sometimes I long for a normal life, something away from magic—away from thumb tips, silk handkerchiefs, invisible threads, Elmsley Count, etc.
I’ve seldom got the chance. Nary a day passes without magic raring its head and intruding into my life.
The tricycle driver wants me to turn his P20 into P1,000; the husband asks me to make his wife disappear; the lover boy begs me to give him a love potion; and so on.
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 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 suggests 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.
So 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, say, Charles Dicken’s “David Copperfield.”
Oh geez…Not again.