A Journal Of The Dark Arts
i’ve been thinking a lot about the singularity, about the overwhelming glittering torrent of culture that washes over us like a waterfall every day. There’s a lot of doomsayers, a lot of naysayers, watching the systems crumble to a halt, crying woe. Yes, things are different. We listen to music, read books, watch films, interact with each other, in a different way then we did 20 years ago. The damage is done, we need to take stock and assess.
See music changed my life. It opened wide vistas of imagination and learning that would’ve blown my 15 year old brain. I never would’ve suspected that i would be immersed in mongolian folklore, scottish stonecircles, french philosophy, 20th century art history, merely by tripping out to weird music. See, i have a curious mind; i follow rabbitholes. Add on top of this, this ineffable drive to make things, to express myself, to transmit my imagination. Mainly cuz i want to see what it will look like. To do this, to be an artist and make things that i don’t completely despise, has forced me to pay attention and appreciate my life. Trying to write an album review when yr thinking about a million other things, multitasking to death, just doesn’t work. I’ll have to listen to a record 12 times, and still don’t have anything to say. And sometimes i say things anyway, and it is clear when my thoughts are muddled, when my life is tied in knots.
Information can be just a distraction. We use the holiest things to delude ourselves into sleeping. Some people say that the world is ending in 4 days, and there’s been a lot of glitter and rust in the last 10 years. Decadence. We’ve been dancing in the ashes, and rubbing ourselves with our impulses, thinking there is no future. For many years, it seemed hope abandoned us. As an Aquarian, living without hope is deadly, living without the future. And that’s the thing, when the future is here and now, there’s no longer a goal to strive for, no elusive OTHER to rub yrself against at night. Its so lonely in this place, but as my dear friend, this a full void indeed. When you get out of yr thoughts, there’s a vibrant REALITY out there.
And music is one of those portholes. An alternate reality. Truly, you can be whomever you want at this point. All the tools are at our discretion. There’s even a certain amount of hatefulness and spite from the arriere garde; its just that certain things are way easier to do now then they were before. Those poor, fingerpricked sound engineers, with their meticulous razor blades and wild imaginations. We could not do what we do without them, and we should stop to consider where they are coming from, what they had to go through. We should stop and consider, keep perspective, and remain appreciative.
Throughout the 20th century, there was an impulse that suggested that newer = better; the neverending rush of progress. Shiny plastic toys, we were going to invent the future. And the sparkle started to fade, and capitalism grew cancerous and widespread, and we lived through several apocalypses. The 20th century was about breaking down ideals and ideologies, hacking reality to pieces, because we suspected consensual reality was a cage. Like they said in the TV series Carnivale, ‘when man built a false sun, and forever traded wonder for reason.’ So we’ve deconstructed, and we’ve exploded, and we’re left blinking at the sun.
We do not have to discard history. Humanity is holy as it comes, and its ideas, its trembling, its fumbling, is admirable. When you stop to find the SOUL of something, you find its juicy magick, its vibrant pulse. Moments come alive as new and unjaded, and every album you ever hear has the possibility of being THAT ONE, yr first love, yr first experience. Its confusing and its disorienting, and people will most likely think yr insane, but the Hierophant is falling to his knees, and casting about for ideas. And the star is overhead, compelling us.
So far starters, try listening to The Caretaker’s Theoretically Pure Anterograde Amnesia and lay about. Stare out the window. Let yrself erode.
magick is not dead. all hope is not yet lost.