A rare glimpse into the fascinating, sometimes terrifying, sometimes hilarious world of a modern ceremonial magician. Hailed by critics as the most entertaining author and one of the most widely respected members of the magick community, Lon Milo DuQuette provides a beacon for aspiring magicians everywhere.
Lon gives an overview of the book:
SONS OF THE DESERT
It was thirty-one years ago this morning, February 27, 1967. I was eighteen years old and my brother Marc was twenty-four. We sat atop one of the monstrous boulders that are heaped like petrified dinosaur droppings across California’s Mojave desert and watched the moon bury itself in the western sands. 180 degrees away the eastern horizon split in a lewd and blood red invocation of the sun. Shortly before this celestial orgy we shared a mystic feast of far too much LSD and vowed in deadly earnest that we would not return from the wilderness until we were holy men. Daybreak found us shishkababed to death -- skewered through by the sun and moon’s perfect opposition – flat on our backs emitting short grunts and giggles.
It would be an understatement to say we were naïve, but we were not entirely green behind the psychedelic ears. Between the two of us we had at least two dozen carefully programmed ‘trips’ under our belts. In our pitiful way we were serious seekers. We followed the ‘set-setting-guide’ procedures outlined by Drs. Leary and Albert, and crammed the days and weeks between our sessions with healthy doses of Eastern Mysticism and spiritual practices.
Nothing, however, could have prepared us for judgement day at Joshua Tree. By mid-afternoon we had blithely paddled our souls up the river of our genetic ancestry, stood at the very hub of eternity and stared with wagging jaws down the orbiting spokes of all possible possibilities. It was the most deafening of unspoken truths -- we would never leave the desert. Wherever we would go, whatever we would do from that point forward would take place in the desert. Our frenzied hike back to my old VW bus was a stumbling ordeal of Odyssean scale, complete with horrifying labyrinths of dry washes and box-canyons, a blinding sandstorm and the sadistic laughter of the spirits of our own tormented childhoods.
The two-hour drive back to Costa Mesa was uneventful except for occasional highway encounters with desert skeletons returning home from church in their pickup trucks. Once home we immediately sought dark refuge in the smoky coolness of the Buccaneer, the only bar in town that would occasionally ignore the fact that I was a minor and serve me beer. That evening no one dared question my age. I looked a million years old.
The beers didn’t help. We were still very high. The zebra-striped walls of the little saloon dripped down to the floor like melting wax, and the pores of the bartender’s nose were so big I could walk inside them.
Then, from nowhere, I received a revelation -- not a cosmic vision about DNA or the nature of light and time, but a surprisingly ‘normal’ idea. It became very clear to me that I must marry Constance, my Nebraska high-school sweetheart. That’s all there was to it. I converted a few dollar bills into coins (an act of tortuous complexity that seemed to require many days) and shuffled to the old black payphone near the pinball machine. I closed one eye and plugged the emptiness of Zero with my blue-green fingertip and spun the clicking wheel of fortune. I pleaded with the operator to help me place the call to Nebraska.
After a few moments of attempting to communicate with my hands, I managed to identify myself. She sounded very happy to hear from me—after all, it was her birthday. I couldn’t believe the cosmic coincidence, but concealed the fact that I didn’t have a clue it was her birthday. Then I came out and said it.
“Would you like to get married?” (It was the smartest thing I would ever do.)
After a short pause she said, “Yes.” (It was the stupidest thing she had ever done.)
We’ve been married thirty years.
In the dark and brooding firmament of occult literature, Lon Milo DuQuette is a star of unique and exceptional brilliance -- Born 1948 in Long Beach California, and raised in Columbus Nebraska -- 1960s radical Peace activist and Epic Records song-writer and recording artist (...