Before I continue with “Go Ask VALIS,” which is theoretically a narrative concerning a very weird time in my weird life, I think it would be helpful to touch base on a few things.
I have written a prodigious amount of digital material in my adult life. I’ve started many websites. At some point, several years ago, I realized that blogs were somewhat obsolete. But still here I am.
FantasyMerchant.com has been bought & paid for my yours truly. I (auto)pay for the extra file storage, bandwidth, and the URL. I had essentially walked away from FM, as I saw it as the last effort on my part to write a theoretical “geek” blog; basically, pummeling that dead equine just one more time. It is dead; it stinketh.
Before FM, there was a period in the 2010’s where I was anonymously running several esoteric websites. These were fairly popular, in its niche-within-a-niche. I talked to a lot of crazy motherfuckers within the community during that time. And you might say: “well weren’t you also one of those crazy motherfuckers?” Well see, it’s like this…
I thought if I adopted the agnostic/ironic stance of a Robert Anton Wilson, and contextualized things sort of as a “joke,” everything would be OK. That such an hipper-than-thou attitude would prevent yours truly from falling cranium-first into Chapel Perilous (which, incidentally, is more-or-less what happened to me in the Summer of ‘14 when I essentially cracked my head open).
What Wilson himself eventually realized, however, is that these “jokes” have a way of gaining traction…of becoming their own realities. He wrote this “satirical” trilogy called “Illuminatus!” & it was a “joke”…but it wasn’t a joke. As Wilson noted in “The Cosmic Trigger,” shit started becoming real! And some of his fellow peers even started to go batshit crazy.
Self-fulfilling prophecies? A tale of troubled peeps just not getting the “joke,” but instead taking the satire dead-literal?
At any rate, those anonymous blogs were doing really well—truly, beyond my wildest hopes—and so my Ego decided to “mate” that with my “old life”/public life as a geek blogger. And so I attached my name to the entire enterprise. And then it all fell apart. Because, in the end, I cared too much what people thought of me. So I essentially strangled my own “offspring.” And for what? So peeps who were fundamentally the opposite of me could maybe “accept” me.
It’s like my Creative Writing 101 professor said to me decades ago: “why can’t you just write something nice?”
So what blog is this, in the context of the many that are still floating around & the ones that are dead & private? It’s just another blog. It was just the easiest option immediately available to me.
All blogs are essentially transient. All online material is essentially transient. The potential for some or all of your digital archive achieving some measure of immortality is the luck of the draw, even with god-knows-how-many copies of it shuttling through various clouds.
Your physical books are also all essentially transient. That includes your comic books, even your slabbed 9.89 graded grail.
We are all essentially transient.
Well, maybe not our “souls.” Maybe not.