Mark bids adieu to his old life.
A Farewell to Magic
Magic, I approach your farewell foremost with gratitude,
Yet apprehension seems unavoidable too.
And despite my inclination to prolong our tenure together,
I am afraid to admit that the magic cannot last forever.
You have enabled me to accomplish such grandiose illusions from the appearance of a coffee can to the disappearance of my left hand,
However, the grandest illusion of all has been making the harsh corners of reality vanish.
For when I propagate fire from my hand,
I find little need to propagate my monetary concerns or missing tax returns.
When I levitate a tree,
I ascend higher than any denigrations associated with a lack of personal style or hygiene and resulting implications.
When I morph my face,
My addiction to chemical substances which usually hangs like a sword from rope above my head is morphed into a mere dagger dangling by thread.
When I generate rainfall,
As well I generate a blindness to what is considered low self-esteem or why children are frightened of me at all.
When I emulate a mummy,
I also emulate no regard for the fact that there are no substantial human relationships in my life is a direct result of my utter lack of common sense or even the most basic skills necessary to function amidst other people, who may consider me a dummy.
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Performing magic is like flying.
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Many of folk call me friend and claim to stand by my side,
However lately it has become more than apparent that an affinity between friendship and illusions is all but inherent.
I find myself unable to turn left or right for fear of the dagger against my back,
However, Magic, you did not claim to stand by my side, you stood behind me the entire time, a careful watcher, protector, a true friend of mine.
It is to those who claimed false allegiance that I attribute the death of this blog,
As your loyalty was purported, my dream remained unsupported.
And to those who retorted with admiration undistorted,
There are only about two of you I actually enjoy being around.
It is at this point in my bid that I would like to express my discontent toward all those of you who doubted me.
If the success of my blog is measured by an amount as defined by my site’s total hit count: then yes, my blog may have been a failure.
If the success of my blog is measured by the lives that it has touched, even so forth to the degree that only a single of the lowliest of beings found some ounce of inspiration at any one point in time, and that that event alone would have deemed the site sublime: then yes, many may argue that my blog was still a failure.
And even if the blog’s success turned out to be a measure solely of my own personal use of the site as a coping mechanism and escape from personal duress, most people would probably cite my inability to handle a problem head on and consider this unhealthy behavior.
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Yet my dear friend Magic, I originally approached you an ingenuous lost boy,
I would have never dreamed of one day writing on air or setting fire to my hair.
Yet for the most part I would have expected these abilities to contribute more fully to my maturation into a young man,
I believe they have helped however my full development I am far less than.
I have often spent many a sleepless night wondering what life without you would be like,
And now, as I clean out the old prop drawer and file the paperwork so that the title “Magic” occurs in my name no more,
I find that a life after illusions does exist.
For in my life there’s a whole new animal, Shark Week begins this July 31 on Discovery Channel.
I would like to conclude my adieu with things I like to compare magic to.
Magic is like a summers eve.
Magic is like a tropical tree.
Magic is like a pumpkin patch.
Magic is like a pirate’s mustache.
Magic could be a great big bang.
Magic can look like a little man.
And when the wind blows and the black bird crows.
Magic will spin you like tornados.
