House Keeper

To make a magician react is a great thing. Many magi consider the art of fooling the magician a worth-while pursuit, and are in constant search for ways to blow their fellow practitioners away.

Being a magician means seeing many different kind of reactions. As of late, I have been meditating the reactions of magicians as they enter the House of Flying Cards, the dojo I run. They turn into kids! They become happier than normal to be surrounded by knowledge, and others like them. Every one in the House is so diverse: to see such a collection of characters under one roof, all united under one love for the art of magic, is like watching a giant reaction unfold. The effect is the House. It is rewarding on a different level.

I used to wonder what the purpose of the House of Flying Cards was. In the beginning, it was to make a stamp on the college social scene as being a sick crew of wonder workers who would blow everyone away in their tracks. I always thought it was a living RPG game of characters that go through events together and rip minds to pieces. It was like being in a gang or the Yakuza, wrecking havoc at any social gathering or event we ran through. That was so fun! As we get older, I see it growing deeper in its purpose. It is bringing people back to magic. It is refreshing their relationship with their art. It is making them happy. It is giving them something to belong to, and be excited about. It is teaching them more magic than they could learn in a thousand books or DVDs from Theory 11 or wherever can. It is introducing them to a more personalized version of the after-hour jam sessions at conventions. It is bringing people together, and making them happy. Magic is about that: spectators and magicians alike. I am happy this is unfolding the way it is.

I sit at the edge of this empty dojo, with a half-smile and my sword down for once, imagining all the amazing places these magi will go.

-antidote

as the 13th grandchild speaks...: The "magical" Proposal

as the 13th grandchild speaks...: The "magical" Proposal: this is way overdue but i already mentioned from my earlier post that i am now engaged! yepyep! at 24. though i don't really like im ...

Dear Great American Spectator

I have great compassion for you, whether or not you have love or hate. I promise to treat your event with meticulous care, like an artisan potter with a mound of clay. I will represent my art form properly and prolifically at your event, and will add a dimension of entertainment that will surpass any amount of decorations or hype you can build up. I promise you I won't hold back, and will give you my magic in it's fullest form: effect for effect, moment for moment. I understand you work for your money, and I do as well: I will work diligently to make sure my magic is something you and your guests will love. I love what I do, and I intend to project that unto you when you are done seeing what I have to show you. I have a show for you, my great American spectator. I work for my bread and feel blessed, while you enjoy the finer things in life such as a slice of discretionary income for you to spend on your event. Live magic performance is an awesome thing to treat your guests to: an art form for the ages, a feeling as primal as a breath of fresh air. You will be wowed, in one way or another. I will see to it. You are in my hands for the hour or two that you book me and my show. I may not like you, but I love what I do more than any disposition you have can sway that. See you at your next event.

-antidote

The Great American Spectator

The great American spectator has seen it all before, now, and after. They watch you, the magician, and their watches equally, as if continuously weighing if what you can show them is worth their time. Spectators like these are spoiled by attention- from Hollywood movies and their special effects, from ADD-style commercials, and the hundreds of apps on their smart phones. The great American spectator is smart- an intellectual from birth. They are trained to know it all, and receive points for it. The geniuses in the audience can never be impressed, God forbid fooled. The magician carries the threat of putting their precious brains to the test. The feeling of astonishment is too childish, because the great American spectator is a grown up. They are trained to think critically, financially, and quickly. The great American spectator feels nothing. They watch you with glazed eyes, as if dead to the magic you can show them; applauding politely, then turning away.

Bring it.

-antidote

Limbo

There's a delicate balance I wish to achieve with the magic I make. It's as fragile as a moment on a tightrope. On one side sit commercial mages of the gig circuit with their invisible decks and their snowstorms in China. On the other, effect junkies of the club scene waving their newest torn and restored cards and signed coins jangling in bottles. I don't want to stand on either of the two towers, but right here, in the middle of the two: nowhere magicians would feel like going.

I have a knack for falling out of any population I find myself in. I want to express myself out of it, like a lonely passenger on an express train out of Tokyo into the hermitage of the mountains. When I am alone with my magic, I fall in love with it. When I see the way other magicians can rape it, I feel bitter. Maybe, the way a lyricist would feel seeing Hip-hop music turn into drunken party chants on the radio, or a vocalist seeing an autotune junky get so much airtime.

As I regain consciousness from my reflection on the tightrope, I find there is no way to walk the thin line between magic as a creative art form and magic as a money-making form of entertainment- art being penny-less, and entertainment being the bread winner. The way is to be still. I am resolved in my position, not to sell out completely to either camp, because I disagree with both sides equally. I do not agree with the effect junkies who perform for no one and spend their days worshipping creators and chasing them around the convention circuit. I do not look up to the commercial magi who spend all their time performing the same played-out material that everyone else is doing, with all the same corny jokes that they all use for the sake of a reaction. And the few famous celebrity magicians like Criss Angel on the billboards across the street? I don't want to be them, because they are who I am not. I don't want to be like any celebrities for that matter, for fame is a fume that can be addicting and deadly.

If there was a balance I'd want to achieve, I'd have to fall several times to figure it out. The way I want my magic to go is up, and away. All art is a bridge to heaven, so I'll lay down on this invisible string and stare at the sky in between the two towers, levitating in my place.

-antidote

Sandy's Reaction

After the gig, I did Clear Mind Sky to a lady named Sandy (my mom's name) last night who was trying to let go of someone who was close to her. I don't do this effect for everyone, because it isn't for everyone. The people who are supposed to feel it will feel it, and share what they've felt with others. This was her reaction:

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I feel positive changes in the air. I can't believe what you did last night with that card and what I yelled inside my head. Have you ever felt there was a mission or a purpose something you had to do, but wasn't sure what it is? That is what it is like with this man Gary. He is coming over tonight. Funny, I can pick up on other people, but not myself. I know you are special, I can feel it...I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you. I do know this, you are on the right path, you have a special quality......your spirit is wonderful, however too many people tune their Spirits out. They will not listen to their hearts. You must find a way to reach them. I can help in some way. I am not sure what it is yet, but we will figure it out.

Don't change!

With Love,

Sandy

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For every one hundred rounds of applauses, WTFs, and dollars thrown into the hat, every now and then I stumble upon a gem of a reaction that tells me what I am doing is worth more than I know. Magic is a great language. I am honored to speak it and deliver what needs to be heard, seen, and felt.

-antidote

Jadu Jedi

The purpose of what we do is to spread a feeling that know other art form can articulate. It is a smile that cracks deeper than delight. If it's a laugh, it's a wonderful mix of being terrified and awe-struck, like standing before your first love, and willing to submit every bit of yourself to the gravity of that moment. It's a way of opening your eyes to the expanse of what you don't know, and absorbing it for the first time, like the light from suns you've never seen. The Hindus called it Jadu; like jade, or something precious. It's a string of curse words spoken spontaneously- the WTFs, NFWs, and OMFGs- as if running to God himself and asking Him to shake off the spell the magician has cast over you. It's frightening and funny, like discovering a spider on your back. The reactions of magic crack open and crumble even the finest of minds. It's distinct, instantaneous, and pushes buttons no other art form can touch. It caves you in like a sinkhole into your psyche. When done right, magic moves its audience, as fast as a free fall. There is no trickery or secrets around the reactions we spread. Magicians everywhere are united in that purpose, like the Knights Templar, or Jedi of Jadu. We are few and far between, so seek us out: we are bringers of a feeling found no where else.

-antidote

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Also, random props for this inspiration goes out to our magi crew counterpart in the Philippines, a troupe of doper than dope magicians called the Magic Window. They are essentially spreading what we spread, the raw, organic way we do it, on the other side of the planet. For more info on the Philippines' Magic Window crew, check out http://www.facebook.com/themagicwindowcebu

The Magic Window of Cebu City, Philippines

Alakaspam

Egos as aside as possible, I take pride in saying that my man Remy Connor aka Sam has slayed me once again with his performing superiority. Right after suffering from a major car accident, I visited him to see that he was okay. He was cheerful and positive as ever, and I was glad to see him there in his apartment playing videogames and laughing, instead of in a hospital bed with a neck brace on. He would have still been laughing and being cheerful even if he was there in a hospital bed, and find a way to say "awesome" despite the non-awesome things a car crash can bring.

Here is a video I randomly ran into of him performing at a gig we did on Las Olas. This was actually the last time I performed alongside him since his car accident...

And so I the antidote am reminded of my former rival, the smoke-breathing serpent mage who manages to stand head and shoulders above the rest of the House in performing prowess. Sam is bar-none one of the best performers I know, and I delightfully envy the dynamics, grace, and potency of the way he delivers his magic to the minds of his spectators. He is alive, and well. He is not dead. He may be working less in magic these days, and sitting in an apartment playing videogames despite his physical injuries. He is still saying "awesome" even when life is telling him your car is totaled. I am so glad this isn't a eulogy. I feel like it is quite the opposite. My rival lives. He is still the insanely powerful magician I remembered him as when Mark and I met him at a magic convention many years ago. This lady who took the video could have posted Mark's set, or my set. She posted Sam's set. Sam slayed us. I am honored.

-antidote

New Promo Trailer

So here it is

We tried capturing the reactions more, which any good spectator or aficionado of magic knows that's where the art is. Enjoy!

-antidote

A Better Canvas

So here I sit, at the edge of another show's end. My feet dangle and kick lazily at the end of the stage, with no one left in the room to watch. The spotlight flickers above me, and debris of popcorn and half-drunk drink cups lightly litter the aisles. I love this part of the show!

I love the feeling of doing a captive show, and at the end, celebrating with myself for completing another mission. The feeling right after a show ends is kind of like that Friday feeling for you office mongers, or that first day of summer break. I chills at the edge of my shows, and pour myself a glass of wine to unwind after the dust settles.

I think I made a tremendous step forward in the goal of self-expression through the art of magic at this last event. I just need my own venue. It's so hard to say what you want to say, and paint what you want to paint if your on a moving train or in a noisy bar. The venues available to most working magicians today are less than suitable canvases for expressing ones-self, and spreading the energy you wish to spread. I'm grateful for every night I'm able to call a venue my own and turn it into my canvas for an hour. It's like, a studio with nice lighting and quiet space and an entire blank wall to work on if you're a graffiti artist, as opposed to infiltrating a subway tunnel at night and throwing down a bomb really quick before you have to dip. That's how strolling and even busking is: get in, throw down your bomb, and be out. It's kind of limited in what you can do.

It takes less energy to do those short, 5-15 min burst shows, but it's always nice coming back to a full show for a captive audience for a solid hour, who pay to come and see you. I'm just meditating at the edge of the stage these things. I'm excited to bring my show to another venue soon. I hope you can see it. It's pretty different from what you're used to seeing magicians do.

-antidote

Chopping Bamboo

So, as the mighty founder of the rogue mage dojo the House of Flying Cards, commanding armies of magicians at my disposal like Gengis Kahn to conquer crowds wherever we go, I secretly freelance at a 9-5 desk job every now and then. It's great! It's so laid back. I pick up the phone and ask people if they would like free movie tickets, as opposed to picking up the phone and convincing people to book our shows. I sit peacefully in an air-conditioned cubicle surrounded by movie posters, as opposed to standing under the hot sun in front of groups of strangers waiting to be impressed. It's low-intensity, and stable. I have tasted this world. It's humbling, and there's peace in low-brainpower tasks such as shipping boxes of movie posters and stuffing envelopes. I once read that a Buddhist monk from the Ching Dynasty fled the bustle of the imperial city to retire in the mountains, and chop bamboo. He achieved enlightenment this way. It's a change of pace, the 9-5, but the more I do it, the more energy I store up energy for my next run on the performance grind. I love the way things balance out: low-intensity office hours and high-intensity gig runs. I can appreciate the balance both bring to my being!

-antidote

Ego

A good friend and mentor of mine Alex Geiser has had a profound impact on how I approach this art. He also does a gangster coin matrix that is too hardcore to compete with or comprehend how hardcore it hits you in the brain. Anyway, out of all art forms, magic has the potential to inflate your ego more-so than music, painting, and the like, because you get instant props! Like the response is right away. People will tend to worship you if you did what your supposed to do correctly. This is bad. Ego is bad. Let it go like sand.

-antidote

"The root of this behavior lies in the ego. A lot of people think they understand ego because they are aware of the definition of the word. The one’s who are cocky may be that way because of ignorance. We are magicians, we are supposed to be people’s people. If wer’e not, how can people like your magic if they don’t like you? Or better yet… how can you make people dream if their too busy thinking you are a douche? To fully understand, you also have to be aware of how you are percieved. And that’s why you should be the respectful gentleman. The main lesson of this topic is, ‘ Let go of the ego’. Your knowledge will increase because you should understand that everyone has something to bring to the table."

- Alex Geiser on the Ego

for more info on the gangster hardcore magic of Alex Geiser go to http://www.myfavoritemagician.com

Companion Sword

One way magic has served me is by making time warp and pass forward, kind of like a good drinking session, but without the hangover. A performance moves my mind into the crowd, and far away from things that sting and upset me. I come out of one 15-minute set feeling different, and far away from where I was before the set had just started. An entire gig does me this favor many fold, and at the day's end, I'm looking around with different, and better, eyes. I had fought with the girl I love this morning, and got irrationally mad. There was no good reason to my madness! But in the heat of that moment, it made sense, and I rode that madness into a turbulent phone conversation and text exchange. She went to sleep in tears (she lives on the other side of the world, so the timezone is different), and I rode into my gig in a funk. I got out of it after the gig. The gig saved me! A few hours of doing magic moved my mind away from what happened, and when I came back to it some hours later, I realized how fooled I was to believe in my madness and act on it. I called her when I got home that night, and gave fully into my apologies and intentions to take better care of her and not get irrationally mad. I got off the phone feeling ten-times more appreciative of what we have. Thank you, magic. You serve me like a samurai once again, and cut down the bad in me that I wish to leave behind.

-antidote

Fooled

The hidden lessons of my practice are becoming apparent: they flashed! It's not so much about taking what I need from the magic advice I'm given: it's giving a compassionate ear, and the opportunity for my advice givers to speak their peace. My dad is my mentor, and loves being that. I don't care if I don't agree with 50% of the advices in magic he gives me. I'm learning to love being able to give him the opportunity to mentor me, and humble myself to take what he suggests to heart. An open ear is a gift: I don't care what I learn after that. It's not about learning to make myself the best. The trick is to stay as humble as possible no matter how good I perceive myself, or my crowd perceives me to be. The better you become, the harder it is to do that! It's not about creating an awesome show to get more gigs. It's being selfless with the money I make from them, and serving the highest possible quality Jadu I can serve to my audiences. It's not about beating myself up for doing a bad show: it's forgiving, and learning to not take things so seriously. I think I have it figured out. I think I'm learning magic, but there is so much I don't know that's being secretly taught. Mastery of the sword precedes peace. Poems precede calm silence. Loving those around you precede God. I think I get it. I'm so fooled!

-antidote

Perfect

Time stands still for the performer who stops short of perfection. I love what I do, but that is not who I am. And the idleness that comes from decelerating out of a performance, a set, or an entire gig makes me restless. I can't sleep. I want to stay up all night, studying ways to make my street show better, and the effects stronger, and the delivery more compelling, and the tip lines more selling. But for what? I must keep reminding myself why I practice: for the service of others. There is much to practice in the ways of light and good through this practice, and they're cleverly hidden in the crevices of what I'm studying. I've been so technical lately: so exact. So exactly what is my goal? To become the best? To top myself night in and night out? I want to loose self, and loose my eyes in my heart. I want to radiate something positive into the crowds I conjure before. If I do it well, than my messages can be clearer. Immaculate reception. I don't know why I'm trying to do what I do so well. Maybe, it's just love. You want to do a God job: perfect. I have sharpened every angle of every set and effect I do, and it's never-ending. There will never be mastery. I don't want to loose sight of the whys. That would be un-wise. It's so late, and I'm still thinking about how I can make my sets better. Why? The desire to better the self is what happens when you want to live up to something you love. Or someone you love. It's not pride, or ego building. The sharpest sword cuts down monstrosities along the way. The polished blade reflects the conviction most clearly. I don't know what I'm saying, or thinking. My intentions are good. It's too late. The mystery is a mess that keeps unfolding.

-antidote

Streaks of Light

Today, I performed my show at a hospital clinic for the elderly. What a joyful audience! The overwhelming excitement and buzz in the room that built throughout the show was amazing. I can't stop marveling at what magic, and poetry, or any art form in general, can do for the human spirit. It is uplifting to see people uplifted. Simply put, I killed it: I did an excessively good job at this particular show, which is somewhat rare. It felt like I'm a basketball player and scored 50 points in the game to win it, and put smiles on the faces of everyone in the stands. It wasn't a bright-lit arena: it was a clinic! A waiting space of diagnosis and medications. I actually did the show in the waiting room, and turned it into my own magical theater. I don't care where it goes down. I'll perform on the moon if I'm asked to, for the astronauts stuck in their space shuttle laboratories. Magic is like light: it can go anywhere. So I took it as smoothly as I could into the eyes of these old people, and my poems into their ears. I'm exceptionally excited, as this was the first show where I actually bounced between doing straight magic, magic-poetry, and my poems by themselves. The reaction I received from this new approach was startlingly deep. The attention of the room funneled to a single point so clear after each poem, that I could have done the worst magic trick in the world and they still would have reacted. I'm glad I have this "sidekick" artform to help my magic out. It feels like I have Wade and Bron on my team, or Shaq and Kobe. Lol I've been watching them playoffs. It feels good to do a good job, and to see people happy from what I do. And even better knowing the income I'm getting from whatever this is making is going to take me back to the Philippines, where I can see the girl I love again. Life is astonishing. I am overwhelmed with God fortune.

-antidote

Outside of the House

I have an idea what you're all thinking, if you're familiar with the House of Flying Cards: is the troupe founder going homeless? Think of it as a chance for me to stand on my own two feet, outside of the House, and breathe some fresh air. I'm not going anywhere, loyal spectators and mages of the House. I live and breathe that! That's actually where I grew up magically, and where all my closest friends are. And the bread I've made being there! Without the House, I wouldn't have been able to travel 10,000 miles to see the girl I love, have the money to pay for gas and car repairs, and gain all the performance experience I have gained up to this point. I wouldn't have met my mentor-brothers Mark, Sam, Datta, Sean, Nunky, and other mages with unique perspectives and energies that make life interestingly open for more discoveries. I am still and always will be representing the House of Flying Cards wherever I throw down a set. And this site? It's not a storefront, or an attempt to get bookings on my own. It's just, as of now, a dojo where the kind of magic I create can exist on it's own. And be appreciated and seen. I don't have any intention of abandoning my magicianal comrades whom I've been working with for so many years. The House of Flying Cards continues. Check out http://www.hofc.webs.comweeblylink_new_window for more info, and peep some of the dopest mages on the planet. I'm nowhere without those guys. Book them- us- before you book me by myself. We're a thousand magical tricks coming at you from all angles. You have no idea!

-antidote