"Fireman, exhausted from his antics on the street, went to his house. But when he stepped through the front door, he found himself in a room of Ouroboricular dimensions, the walls plastered with TV moniters, images on the screen twitching and fading in and out in orphitic orgasms. Seated before the TV Wall ov Chaos was a thin pale chap who had the look of a man prone to architectural wankery and gothtronic delusions."
"Hello, Fireman." the man replied.
"Who are you?" Fireman asked, voice pulsating with Keanic vibes, the atmosphere quaking with "woah" waves.
"I am Sypha Nadon, but that name is just my fiction suit here, at this place, bound by four corners, chained by electronic words, nay, a digital prison." the man replied. "My real name is James Champagne, and I didn't create this place. I discovered it, via a comic called..."
"The Invisibles." Fireman replied.
"Quite right." James' eyebrows arched. "Interesting, that was quicker then the others."
"Why am I here?" Fireman asked.
"Interesting question. Why are you here? Why, for that matter, are we all here? Why are hot dogs called hot dogs?" James the nonchitect replied. "Are we seeking answers for the ultimate question? Do we know what that question is? Do we even know why if, indeed, it exists? If the holy grail is two people in conversation, how can one find the holy grail in a place such as this, where there is no simultaneous exchange, rather, point cointer point analysis, dialectical metamorphosis, the cart before the horse? I'm stoned out of my ass, by the way."
"You still haven't answered my question." Fireman pointed out.
"How can I answer your question when you yourself don't know what the question is? Pardon me if I arch my eyebrows constantly, it makes me feel like a supervillian from the Blood Light District." James remarked, swiveling around in his chair. "You know, there's no point in sitting on a chair with wheels if you don't spin around in it every now and then... Do you get my point? catch my drift? Groove on what I'm laying down here?"
"Why are we here?" Fireman asked.
"Fuck man, I don't know." James moaned.
"Is this a game?" Fireman asked.
"What are the rules?" James inquired.
"Who makes the rules, you, or me?" Fireman asked.
"We all play the game we play, and we all play by the rules we create for ourselves. Or something like that." James said. "Who cares about the meaning of life? Who cares about you, me, or anyone? I want to know if you can grow grow trees from money. You know, Caligula once told his men to attack the ocean. They actually sliced at their ocean with their swords, trying to kill Neptune, god of the Sea. Can you imagine what a sight that must of been? Hundreds of Roman soldiers slicing at the sea, trying in vain to kill the ocean, then returning to Rome holding up sea shells like trophies of war. Fuck Dubya, Caligula was a real leader. He charged people money to watch him fuck the ashes of his dead sister, made his horse a senator... If one is to be an evil leader, I say, do it wit style, dawg."
"You still haven't answered my question." Fireman said.
"I cannot answer your questions. Only you can answer your questions." James said. "Here's some advice: Your idols are meant to be fucked with and killed. Grant Morrison is some bald wanker who ripped off countless inspirations and molded it into a well-designed comic that he got people to believe was way more important to the world then it really was (and to be honest some of the issues just looked like shite). Robert Anton Wilson's some old hippy who hasn't changed at all, after all these years. You don't know any of these people except through their books. What should you care about them? How have they helped you? Do you think they care about you? Why should you care about them?"
"But it's because of Grant's comic that we're all here, at this wonderful forum of intellectual freedom!" Fireman protested.
"This forum is just an illusion, drab gray eye-licorice. what have you gotten from this place? What has anyone here offered you? Have you met any of these people in real life? Why should you care about them, or care what they think about you?" James asked. "You don't know their real names, don't know what they look like, have no real idea what they're like in real life. I can see if you knew some of them in reality why you'd want to hang out here, but what are you gaining, trying in vain to impress people who, in the end, don't really care about you, this whole thread being a good example? Perhaps I'm wrong, but it seems you hold some people here in high esteem, like they're some kind of exalted people who know all. But, as smart, intelligent, and as kind as they can be, they're just people, and if everything 'bound within four dimensions' is the same, then you yourself are them. Don't try so hard to impress, to be noticed. All you'll end up doing is getting mocked harder. Such is the nature of the internet, both heaven and hell."
"Are you saying I should just leave, give up?" Fireman asked.
"Give up what? There is no fight, no struggle. Just go with the flow."
"I need to impress the powers that be here." Fireman muttered. "They're older then me, more worldly, more experienced. If they don't acknowledge my genius, don't acknowledge me as the master magician I surely am, then I am not worthy..."
"Such is the thoughts of a Barbelith newbie." James sighed. "When I sigh, I'm not trying to be melodramatic, I'm trying to swallow a fly so it can have sex with the other fly in my stomach, it's quite lonely, you see. Or some shit like that. I'm not really sure what the point of all this is, but then again, I'm not sure what the point of this thread was to begin with. Did you really want to tell a story, or is it all self-serving? Show us you have a sense of humor and can laugh while at the same time seeking the attention from the 'illuminated ones' you so obviously rever? You may think I'm mocking you, and I suppose, in a way, I am, but that goes with attention-seeking. Trust me, I'm the OG, Original Goth, I'm the Ice-T of drama-queening. There were the times in the past where the opinions of certain people here meant a lot to me, and I tried desperetly to impress them, which usually just increased the scorn."
"Is this about me or you?" Fireman asked.
"It's about me because I am you, I am acting as a mirror. Nearly everyone of your threads is about you. Do you care about anyone else here, or do you just care what they think about you? There's a difference..." James said.
"Well? Do you care about anyone here?" Fireman asked.
"Good question. There are some people here I am very close to, that I do care about. Sometimes we chat via AIM, share pictures, PMs, and even though we haven't met in real life, I feel like I know that person, that they aren't just another forum member. You're one of those people. I even answered the PM you sent me, damn it, that means we tight. There are others here who I'm not as close with, but who I feel at the very least a begrudging respect. There's almost no one here I don't really like. But what you need to do is look at every forum member you hold even one bit above your head and bring them down to your level. You can even start with me if you want, find a flaw if need be (shouldn't be THAT hard). Or you could look at say, Ganesh, and think "Well, he once admitted he often sees people in clinical, psychiatric terms, or something along those lines". There are no saints here, all of us are flawed, and none of us have the answers you need, because the answers are inside you already, to use a cliche. The most we can do is try to point you in the right path, but whether you go down the path is entirely up to you."
"The problem is choice." Fireman answered.
"There are two doors." James said. 'One will lead you to your present situation, of which you are trying to escape. The second door will still find you here, but deliberetly not trying to stand out. Of the two doors, the first one is the easiest and the second is the toughest. However, enough of these Hegelian choices! There is also a third door underneath you that leads to other forums out there, other websites full of other people who are totally different then you.Perhaps they don't dress as cool, or read the same cool stuff you do, but their existence is just as interesting as anyone here. Exploring other forums, both on the internet and in real life, would perhaps help you to appreciate the charms of this place better. But you must remember, when you boil it down to pixels, this place is just a website, not a substitute for reality. Now if you don't mind I'm going to go piss sideways and listen to watch a Godzilla flick. Godzilla may not be as deep as Robert Anton Wilson but he can breathe radioactive fire and flatten entire cities. Old magician, or fire-breathing reptile? The choice, I think, is clear." |
