All of that is not enough for me, I want the big hit, I want to enchant things back and forth, to create strong, fast, diverse literature beyond genres despite a dubious market. Journalism as something mobile, intense, free...
Despite my experiments with it, I'm by no means ready to bleed to death in self-publishing and niche blogging, I just think the reader is smart. The publisher more courageous. I want
Creating worlds, multidimensional viewing
the unbridled intoxication I feel when they unfurl from the trouser pocket I've been playing with them in since kindergarten. From the storyteller for the organised walker to the mud-poet carnival. The lens sharpened to a focal point.
I emerge from the entanglements with all the inner selves, Guardian Angels, friends from the other side, Charlies and shadows pure, gutted, euphoric, thoughtful, lustful, I don't follow anything, I like it anarchic, smoothly ironed doesn't suit me.
Content creation beyond its castrated social media leveling downwards.
I don't want to percolate in conformity, my audience is colourful, courageous and rough, harbour pubs of the progressive, stand-up comedy of the revolution. And yet I'm more centred than all the bubble extremists who babble inanely, as if their world were voluntarily nothing but whataboutery.
I don't entertain, I cut paths.
I am my characters, I am a legendary figure, but at the same time just another coffee house existentialist, a garage existence. A frenzied reporter palaver. Someone who sweeps the rubbish out from under the carpet.
A little occultist. Whatever that may be these days, because much of it is neither sensible, useful, real nor appropriate.
But what you can do with it when you free it from its bloated madness is fascinating and leads back to creating and designing.
A second half of life, driven by the first, can be as overflowing as it is overwhelming. Everything united in fantasy. Secured in the authentic.
Like Pratchett, whom I learned to love very early on, when he was still performing magic unrecognized and impressed me with the octarin that even magicians included in their repertoire.
How he managed to bring almost all themes into his Discworld, from rock and roll to science or feminism, including a great mix of styles, is a tear-jerking masterpiece of complexity and scholarship.
That's where I want to go.
And the way he even finds his way back to the earth called the round world is giving me goosebumps. So I sit down next to everything else and design a modern, magical (future) world.
And I don't intend to dwell on the usual, average limitations - it has to be a megaverse, of course. From its design to its end.
There are hardly any other role models as powerful as this, perhaps Tolkien or Martin. The two of them multiplied by Gibson and Dante.
A kind of Robert Antwon Wilson for this withered life lie Europe. If I don't work with
have become interchangeable consumer pleasures. Bubbles. But many flavours of ice cream are not a bad thing per se, at least with curated quality control. Refine your flavour, train yourself to a new high time of being.
I want to bring a certain lightness to this heaviness, to the depth and complexity that awaits the reader or viewer. As a horned caricaturist of my own banality, but also as a fighter for meaning. Far from the fact-skewed echo chambers with their simplified pleasures.
Because I am not prepared to stand still. Trauma and vastness tumble out of the news. And everything is a report and yet also satire and that non-reality to which I am prepared to give my own book title.
But it is also politics, change management, transhuman mystification inside and necessary. I have been working on these approaches for a long time, I am inspired by what comes next and what that would mean. The leap from the edge of the plate, always outside the box.
And how we hold this surreal rise of "anything is possible" together is the topic on the table. A panopticon, for me it was always easy to switch from point to point, but in the meantime I have been made acutely aware that I am burning sore loops into the focus of many followers.
I vow to do better here, reduce the mental rodeo.
One of the reasons why I work partly with Creative Commons or Open Source and the paywall is just for survival is because I want to maximise the spread and the crowd, I like alternative concepts of marketing, self-sufficient production, even partial texts could be outsourced or multi-rewritten.
I am a fan of hypotheses as long as they are labelled as such. I honour the scientific approach as long as you don't fall too much in love with your own interpretation of the facts. Narcissism has many faces.
I don't feel like drawing a line between acting and creating, good and evil are meandering through the void, hypocrisy can no longer be trendy.
We can't possibly leave everything that needs to be shaped in the future to Zuckerberg, Musk or Altman. Trump, Putin, Winnie the Pooh.
In content production, in creating worlds, we are only at the beginning of understanding what creativity and its sharing will mean. AI is killing the idea of song production or text production, coding, video creation.
This charismatic black swan, one more in dubious times, which radiates and sends out masses of butterflies of chaos, drones, malware of life. Menacing words and yet everything in them is ready in happiness. How sexy and strange, may you live in interesting times, Confucius cursed.
I think we are moving towards a collective human superintelligence to which we will remain connected as individuals if we so choose. Or several. We are creating the gods we have freed ourselves from.
In my contributions I prove all of this on a small scale; each of my frequently edited texts is a fluid, multidimensional hologram. Blogs in Blogs in Blogs in Blogs. Books in books, films in films in films. Escher's illusion.
That's what I want. One beer bottle later, one Midwest Trail, a free, happy neverending story:
The class clown is usually the culprit.
