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It has been presented that what we view as reality is simply a construct, that we interact with a shared intelligence to enshroud ourselves within a prison of symbols. Wiser minds than my own have acknowledged that peering through this veil of symbols is akin to waking from a form of cultural amnesia-- but it requires no small effort to chip through the shell of languages, logos, credos, and gestures that define our species, especially when our senses are constantly bombarded with text messages, reality shows, energy drinks, celebrity gossip, extra value meals, and meaningless political cock-flashing. It's easier to just give in, to absorb the flashing lights around us, and let the talking heads deliver information in tightly controlled bursts.
Priests, politicians, and witch doctors of all stripes have historically staked their claim to the access points of "The Divine," merely adding their own brand of symbology to the mix. In this way, the layers of our reality-construct have become more elaborate, and the greater truths have become more obscured. The hologram of reality is defined by its symbols-- thus, whoever can manipulate these symbols can manipulate reality. This practice is known as "magic," or in some circles, "marketing."
The problem with magic is that our most successful practitioners-- specifically heads of state, business leaders, and clergymen-- only seem to extract the information that benefits them most, that reinforces their power-position in the world. Hence, the Nike swoosh, the Jesus cross, and the printed text in most history books. Your teacher, your pastor, and your nightly newscaster are the only intermediary between the symbol-makers and the symbols themselves. Any actual, meaningful contacts with a "higher reality"-- such as dreams, deja vu, out-of-body experiences, hauntings, extraterrestrial contact, or the occasional psychedelic freakout-- are immediately explained away, filed in the "discard" rack, and summarily forgotten. If it doesn't fit within the parameters of our assured (read: DICTATED) headspace, it didn't REALLY happen. Case closed.
But what happens to this knowledge after we cast it aside? The forbidden history, the forgotten names and experiences, where does it all go when the warlocks-in-charge seal it behind the plaster wall of illusory status-quo? Does it vanish forever? Or does it continue to exist somewhere, in the supercontext beyond this shared hallucination we call "life"?
The answer, I think, is quite obvious. That knowledge is still there. Information never dies. Quite the opposite, in fact-- it grows faster and larger with each ticking second. It remains, sometimes hiding, but always waiting to be absorbed by the right minds. This is the realm of the occult.
I like to peer through cracks in walls. I like to overhear snippets of passing conversations on the street. I love digging through trash for discarded treasures, reclaiming forgotten bits of this world and recycling them into something new. This is a vital part of my daily existence-- I wrap myself in the fringed edges of our culture and crawl through the public eye like a beautiful scab. I pore over record bins and junk drawers in thrift stores in every town I visit. I will bury myself for hours in the dingiest corridors of abandoned buildings, memorizing every layer of graffiti, every ancient shoeprint, every oily rag and empty can. I visit these lost corners of culture and mind and I bring something back every time. Sometimes my brain is so full that is spills over at the sides, staining every lyric I write, every story I tell, every movie I shoot, every drawing, every thought, every movement, every breath. The information I collect is re-introduced into the world, and my reality shifts accordingly. The larger my projects become, the greater my sphere of influence-- you see where this is going?-- until eventually, I hope to channel this information in such a way that the group mind is altered on a mass scale. This is what the Situationists referred to as "seizing control of the Spectacle." I can do this through music, through images, through words. All I need is a little charisma and a willing audience.
Do I consider myself a magician? I am proud to say that I do-- although not in the most traditional sense of the word. To me, books like THE PSYCHOTRONIC ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM or THE RE/SEARCH GUIDE TO INCREDIBLY STRANGE MUSIC carry as much esoteric weight as anything churned out by Crowley or Regardie. I derive as much hidden meaning from a viewing of GLEN OR GLENDA as I do from my daily tarot readings. And while I don't hitch myself to haughty, antiquated rituals as a means of directing my will, I do see an immediate correlation between musical performance and spellcasting-- both involve inducing a trancelike mood to bestow information upon the attendant group. Leading a band and screening a movie is just another form of wizardry, in my opinion, and the more practiced I become, the more arcane knowledge I project into my work, the more of a change I can effect on the external world.
CONTINUED IN PART TWO: THE PROGRAM (AND HOW WE GOT WITH IT)!
Priests, politicians, and witch doctors of all stripes have historically staked their claim to the access points of "The Divine," merely adding their own brand of symbology to the mix. In this way, the layers of our reality-construct have become more elaborate, and the greater truths have become more obscured. The hologram of reality is defined by its symbols-- thus, whoever can manipulate these symbols can manipulate reality. This practice is known as "magic," or in some circles, "marketing."
The problem with magic is that our most successful practitioners-- specifically heads of state, business leaders, and clergymen-- only seem to extract the information that benefits them most, that reinforces their power-position in the world. Hence, the Nike swoosh, the Jesus cross, and the printed text in most history books. Your teacher, your pastor, and your nightly newscaster are the only intermediary between the symbol-makers and the symbols themselves. Any actual, meaningful contacts with a "higher reality"-- such as dreams, deja vu, out-of-body experiences, hauntings, extraterrestrial contact, or the occasional psychedelic freakout-- are immediately explained away, filed in the "discard" rack, and summarily forgotten. If it doesn't fit within the parameters of our assured (read: DICTATED) headspace, it didn't REALLY happen. Case closed.
But what happens to this knowledge after we cast it aside? The forbidden history, the forgotten names and experiences, where does it all go when the warlocks-in-charge seal it behind the plaster wall of illusory status-quo? Does it vanish forever? Or does it continue to exist somewhere, in the supercontext beyond this shared hallucination we call "life"?
The answer, I think, is quite obvious. That knowledge is still there. Information never dies. Quite the opposite, in fact-- it grows faster and larger with each ticking second. It remains, sometimes hiding, but always waiting to be absorbed by the right minds. This is the realm of the occult.
I like to peer through cracks in walls. I like to overhear snippets of passing conversations on the street. I love digging through trash for discarded treasures, reclaiming forgotten bits of this world and recycling them into something new. This is a vital part of my daily existence-- I wrap myself in the fringed edges of our culture and crawl through the public eye like a beautiful scab. I pore over record bins and junk drawers in thrift stores in every town I visit. I will bury myself for hours in the dingiest corridors of abandoned buildings, memorizing every layer of graffiti, every ancient shoeprint, every oily rag and empty can. I visit these lost corners of culture and mind and I bring something back every time. Sometimes my brain is so full that is spills over at the sides, staining every lyric I write, every story I tell, every movie I shoot, every drawing, every thought, every movement, every breath. The information I collect is re-introduced into the world, and my reality shifts accordingly. The larger my projects become, the greater my sphere of influence-- you see where this is going?-- until eventually, I hope to channel this information in such a way that the group mind is altered on a mass scale. This is what the Situationists referred to as "seizing control of the Spectacle." I can do this through music, through images, through words. All I need is a little charisma and a willing audience.
Do I consider myself a magician? I am proud to say that I do-- although not in the most traditional sense of the word. To me, books like THE PSYCHOTRONIC ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM or THE RE/SEARCH GUIDE TO INCREDIBLY STRANGE MUSIC carry as much esoteric weight as anything churned out by Crowley or Regardie. I derive as much hidden meaning from a viewing of GLEN OR GLENDA as I do from my daily tarot readings. And while I don't hitch myself to haughty, antiquated rituals as a means of directing my will, I do see an immediate correlation between musical performance and spellcasting-- both involve inducing a trancelike mood to bestow information upon the attendant group. Leading a band and screening a movie is just another form of wizardry, in my opinion, and the more practiced I become, the more arcane knowledge I project into my work, the more of a change I can effect on the external world.
CONTINUED IN PART TWO: THE PROGRAM (AND HOW WE GOT WITH IT)!
