973395 - OPTIMYTHIC 03:
How Does a Fairy Earn His Wingz?
Having arrived at this particular
page, it's entirely possible that you're feeling a little lost within
the maze of this particular site. After all, there's no reliable
map, the content (though tolerably pretty to look at and sorta fun
to read) is largely meaningless, and the sales pitch is downright
clumsy. All these things are quite intentional, so please, don't
Rather, I invite you to be inspired
(or at the very least, intrigued) by the thought that this entire
website hangs in cyberspace as a partial metaphor of not just my
own mind, but -- quite possibly -- yours too. Arguably, your datestamp
might be a smidgeon off from mine, but, together, we can by-and-large
agree that it hovers somewhere on or around the month of May, 2018.
(To be clear: when I say "Two Thousand Eighteen," I'm
relying somewhat breezily upon the assumption that you share my
understanding of the concept behind it, namely, that it's a count,
of orbits around the sun, from a time long ago when some random
council of Greek-speaking scholars synchronized their astronomical
stories with the twenty-four "Elders" of their Greek alphabet,
which was itself descended from a far more ancient glyphobet.)
Timekeeping and orbital mechanix
aside, the ideal navigation strategy for this particular sight is
easy: poke around, explore its many unfamiliar and useless places,
and allow yourself to become even further lost inside the general
wash of its obfuscationary absurdities.
Eventually, if your heart is pure
and OPTIMYTHIC, its truths will speak.
Speaking of "Truths that speak,"
you may have noticed the voice of a clown or threee haunting the
various corners of the labyrinth. Unlike most standard "Web
1.0" websites, which are malleable, morphable, and patently
inconstant metaphors of mind, clowns are extremely reliable and
trustworthy. As a result, by this mid-point in my Webspinning practice,
I believe I know them each well (enough) to provide a proper introduction:
|Photo by Grim Fandango
|Sir Cadence "Porridge"
Fapcannon is a vain, pompous, flouncy, red-nosed poet. He plays
fast and loose with love-letters and luggage alike, seeking
only to please his master.
Richard "Dick" Wadd is a GUI GDUL, which is a
Hebrew(ish) turn of fraze meaning "Graphical-User-Interface...Godly,"
and points to the Pornographic, Topographic, and Paleographic
proclivities of his black-tooth'd soul. Though he serves with
a precise and efficient competence, he nevertheless hates his
||Sir Robin "Puck"
Goodfellow is a spritely, (sort-of) white-hatted heel-catcher;
a horny scorpion-eyed heart-breaker with a dim past and a bright
future. He wants only to be the master, but, owing to his irreverence
toward authority, has no idea how to make that happen.
Together in concert, this trio of
fools haunts my head, whispering all kinds of ungodly shit into
my inner ear. Their combined voices coalesce into a kind of all-encompassing
Satyr-Clown whose name, I believe, is Arkamedes, and whose mission
is much as it has always been.
As we all (ought to) know, the job
of a Satyr-Clown is to reside in his favourite mountain, and, should
anyone bother to come knocking, to dutifully point out all the obvious
things they'd rather not see, while speaking certain truths they've
been far too afraid to think. In so doing, the Satyr creates a space
in which his visitor may be both titilated and challenged. With
the help of the Phallus-sporting idiot before them, Seekers are
invited to think critically and intelligently about the nature of
Desire, and the lengths that a civilization must go in order to
keep its most monstrous expressions firmly in check.
Emperors, Kings, Popes, and Warlords
expect obedience. Whatever they wish for, they simply put into words,
and all that flows from their infallible mouths must be received
as the ultimate Work-Says.
In contrast, a clown is easily ignored,
and expects nothing but a few honest moments of your time.
A Satyr cannot tax you, or send
you to war, nor dispossess or jail you, nor kill you, or sell you
into slavery. You never have to believe a single thing he Playsez.