Most human mythologies have some common idea or lesson, a thread which connects them to other myths no matter the cultural peccadillo or geographical implausibility. These countless silver threads spool from the realms of the impossible. I am a survivor of these degraded kingdoms, which is as grand and important a thing as it sounds. These are the places where daydreams and fairy-tales live; where inspiration wells and imagination flourishes. Dangerous places, these, their very existence ebbing and flowing according to the collective whims of the universal faithful. They are wondrous places full of life and magic. A realm of pure fancy whence configurations of dreams track endlessly across the familiar figure-eight of an infinity loop. The ideas of man are plucked from the Omni play, set upon the tracks of consciousness and, ever so occasionally, let loose upon the tiny speck of the universe that our perceptions allow. This is how we got penicillin, D.N.A., jet propulsion, and your mother’s recipe for homemade fudge. This is how we got the bomb. This is where dragons and needle-play and spaghetti monsters come from. This is the devil and this is god. Are we having fun yet? Could you repeat the question? Get me off this crazy thing!
Before the stars were vomited across the heavens, I knew my place among them.
