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"I can resist anything except temptation."
— Oscar Wilde

Glamour and death energy don't have to go together, but often do. Their intermingling is a magnetic coupling favored by both cosmos and psyche.

Glamour and death energy synergize into a Precious, an all-attractive jewel glittering in the dark, mesmerizing your gaze and compelling you to reach for that which forever eludes your grasp. Glamorous death energy invites you toward the promise of sweet delight, set so brilliantly against the backdrop of eternal night. Glamorous death energy is like the speedy edge of the merry-go-round spinning you into outer darkness. Glamorous death energy sparkles and seduces you to plummet through the wrong end of a telescope where monomanias shrink your soul.

The dark force, like the devil who hath the ability to assume a pleasing form, often comes to us in a glamorous, seductive manifestation. For example, it may come to us as a charismatic, attractive person who would like you to join them in their downward spiral. In other cases, the glamour radiates from white powders, volatile fluids, happening scenes, video screens, gurus, answers-for-everything ideologies, one-size-fits-all fundamentalisms, and myriad other forms and guises.

For me, the East Village of New York City, where I lived in the early to mid-eighties, was ground zero of glamorous death energy. An exciting scene was exploding there, and much of it was highly novel and creative. The neighborhood I lived in was the punk capital of the world, and fascinating mutants from everywhere abounded on the streets 24/7. Allen Ginsberg lived a block away, and I saw him on the street frequently, as well as Quentin Crisp, Madonna, Grace Jones, and many others whose names are forgotten but whose faces glitter in the night of time. I was friends with the late, great Keith Haring, whose first shows were at the Fun Gallery right across the street from my building. Fifty storefront art galleries were ever-changing portals into the mutating visual imaginations of fellow late baby-boomer mutants.
But dark threads wove potently through this harlequin-colored tapestry. I began wondering why there were so many casualties, why was almost everyone, including me, wearing black, why so many were getting sucked into addiction and toxic promiscuity, and for that matter, why did the whole atmosphere crackle with the neon colors of glamourously tragic magic?

Never underestimate the power of the dark force to put on a coat of many sparkling colors and pull you into a dark alley where, within sweet shadowy depths, sharing a syringe may seem sexy and alluring.

When there is a wave of novelty, and I am all for waves of novelty, it means that both the outer edge of dark and the outer edge of light intensify. If you want to surf such powerful waves, be wary about where you are with respect to those edges because sometimes the outer edge of light and the outer edge of dark fold together like Damascus steel.

The positive aspect is that this is an auspicious time to become more aware of the siren call of glamorous death energy. Be a magician, not a victim of tragic magic.