The passing of time can be a cruel and unforgiving force, especially when it comes to the memories of those we have lost along the way. As I sit here, staring at my notebook, pen in hand, trying to put into words the mechanics of remembering a dead friend after a decade has passed, I am overcome with emotions that are both raw and bittersweet. It has been ten years since my best friend Henrik Møll left this world. Ten long years filled with moments where I have felt his absence quite viscerally. And yet, as the years go by, I find myself clinging to hold onto the details of our friendship – inside jokes, late night conversations about life, the adventures we embarked on together, early TOPY formatting, an intense potpourri of nights at his legendary Copenhagen clubs and parties (including The Orb in the Copenhagen harbor in ’93), initiating the massive ”An Art Apart” documentary film project (that will keep me busy for a long time still), and then some. It all seems so distant now...

We live in a culture of more or less instant gratification, and it makes us lazy; dumbed down even. Why bother looking through more layers or angles of an issue when someone (or something) else could tell us the answer immediately, or even do the work for us (or suggest expensive remedies)? In my forthcoming magical autobiography, Meetings with Remarkable Magicians – Life in the Occult Underground, I touch upon this conundrum: ”And there they were in my own life: Crowley, Spare, P-Orridge, LaVey, Anger and a whole other army of poetically minded truth sayers, artists, and magicians; pushing on because they had to, without necessarily needing to understand why. That was exactly what I was striving for. And that’s why contemporary platitudes like ”Work smarter, not harder” have no meaning for me; it simply sounds like a euphemism for cutting corners. In my mind it’s always much better and much more rewarding to work harder.” My approach has always been seeing the work itself a blessing...