The social media generation is the most memetically-susceptible generation in human history. We are like the Native American tribes, except instead of smallpox-laden blankets we are being corrupted by conspiracy theory memes for which we have no antibodies.
Imagine yourself sitting in group meditation easing into a comfortable altered state of consciousness, when a voice you now know so well begins speaking loudly inside of you.
Interested in doing some different kind of Xmas shopping this year? Be remembered for your gift of psychedelic revolutionary absurdity!
RED MASS is a psychopomp adventure bringing the concepts of shamanic consciousness into the popular literary realm; imagine a postmodern X-Files plus Beat poet superheroes on LSD. Below is a brief synopsis of the story:
I believe that life is a dream. Its pretty simple actually. I realize I am dreaming yet am not always self-reflective enough to be able to predict or project in a focused manner, as a magician would, the precise images I would like to step into. Therefore, many times the “dream,” used now in the sense of an idealist goal-oriented wishing, stays stuck as a dream.
2010 was a crazy year for me, with some of the highest highs and lowest lows that I've ever experienced. I moved out of the country, got published in a real (albeit online) magazine, began writing my first book...and even bottle-fed three foster puppies! By the holidays I was totally worn out.
The sun rose at the end of a valley of ruined skyscrapers. That part of the city was flooded. The water reached the third floor of the surrounding buildings. A lone figure stood on a makeshift raft drifting along the golden path of solar reflection. Although going with the flow he used a staff as an oar. He was thinking.
The following short-story I created to express a crazy concept of such subjects as gravity, black matter, electro-magnetism, black holes, standing theories of relativity, time, etc. Hope you enjoy it!
Johanna Deren, diviner of Tarot, Pixie grrl, tempestuous traveler of the Hyperverse with the alluring songs of baroque lullabies, former lover of Cecil, who recounted the events at the hospital in detail.
"...so you burned it down?" She commented when he finished.
"Hopefully, we obviously didn't stick around..."
"Do you wanna reading?"
So my books been out since November and my sales doubled over the last month, so I decided that I would make the e-book of it free for the day. Well my publisher screwed it up, so I'm going to do it myself. What's more, I think I'll keep it up a little longer, maybe a week, give or take. I didn't write it with profits in mind anyways.
Fiction: I knew something had gone wrong when the pianist slumped forward. At first, no one realised what had happened. It was an enjoyable party with plenty of noise, plenty of drinking, and most of my attention was on Sue, dancing and drinking straight out of the bottle. Which man would she have her eye on tonight, I wondered.
Fiction: He didn’t believe in such tales. Oh sure, he’d heard all about the barn – how people fear to go inside at night – how you could disappear for ever in there. But he was a big fellow, rational, and he wasn’t about to be put off by ridiculous folk stories. As he approached, a lantern light from deeper in the barn shone on a man and woman in the door.
"Banish the word 'struggle' from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we have been waiting for." — Hopi elders
