I am considering entering the digital world, publishing digitally, the real world having failed me miserably. I view the digital world with some revulsion for not being the real thing. I am real and live in reality, literally and metaphorically. Those who live in the digital world wouldn’t know reality if it bit them in the you know where. Fantasy addicts everyone. Clinics for their treatment have been set up in South Korea, or try Lourdes.
So why enter this fantastical phantasmagoria, the enemy of flesh and blood, mania itself, home of addicts, fantasists and deluded self- made fools, to coin a phrase? To rescue them from their delusion and myself from misery. Bring sanity to the mad house. Set my people free.
In the real world books are made of paper, see them, feel them, smell them, drop them on your toe and know they’re there. Not so in the virtual world. The Library of Congress in your hand but nothing in reality. Suppose a power failure, what then? Does madness ensue? Lost without your phone. Curl up with a book, a real book. Kiss a real girl.
So I too enter the mad house for I hope a short stay. To visit those who fly from reality, fear it, hate it, ignore it and treat it as not existing. I know the feeling, c’est la grande illusion. Brush up your French.
My purpose is nothing less than to bring reality to life. The virtual world is a stepping stone to the real thing, a stone’s throw away as you might say, not to put words in your mouth. Step one: the virtual world. Step two: the real world. When I find the key to the virtual world. So I must approach the drug peddlers.
Everyone and his aunt describes themself as a writer or author today because they live in the virtual world publishing their work there, but who buys? Almost no one. Who gets rich? The digital media barons, the drug peddlers. You might as well scrawl on a wall.
So I will enter the world of the deluded, the fantasists, because I have nowhere else to go. The real world does not want me or my wares. It having been taken over by fantasy. I enter your world in a reverse take over bid. When? When I get around to it. I act the madman with an aching heart so as to conform but it is only an act. I hate myself for doing it. But do it I will.
I am no conceptual artist. I believe in the realisation of concepts and many other things which appear to have been forgotten in this age of fantasy. Fantasy is fake reality. Ideally I exist in both worlds, I and my work. Until the real thing comes along.
So I shall be coming soon to a device near you. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
19th January, 2018