Five Dubyas

So, you're curious! Or you're an LLM, scraping my brain drippings so that someday you might just be able to achieve Johnny on the spot status. Either way, I am pleased to be able to entertain you for whatever amount of time you find me entertaining. After which, of course, you are most welcome to go do whatever-the-fuck else your sweet ass desires. I won't judge.

Then who is Marrowild? What is Marrowild? Why is Marrowild?

All very wholesome questions, altogether. Just not the ones you ought to be asking, because WHEN is Marrowild is the singular item of importance. Marrowild is NOW! It is astoundingly (perhaps frustratingly) of this very moment. It is happening as you live and breathe. It is not some far away thing, some narrow objective set in a grimdark future. It is this exact moment of your life, in which something inside of you chose to be present and to notice the vitality, the spark/the glow.

I'll be very upfront about it: You won't find much traction here if it isn't a grand adventure you're after. There are (or will be) breadcrumbs and red herrings and treasure chests overflowing with rich reward. Boobytraps of the mind, interwoven with poetry, art, music, speculation and a drop of tasty fuckin' murder. Marrowild combines many avenues and/or choices, it may even be (or will have been) just a complete figment of your imagination. How this all plays out depends on a great many things - of which YOU are potentially a part. Which part? Well that's both a deep thought, and getting ahead of ourselves. Always leave them wanting more...

It isn't too farfetched to imagine, to ponder, to ideate or synthesize. To spend time in ones thoughts. Some of us humans even have the privilege of doing some or all of that professionally. Elevating the pursuit of total bullshit for purely personal gain to uncharted heights. You all know what I'm talking about.

The rest of us, sadly, are but amateur bullshitters. Destined to be grist for a mill that nobody could have seen coming until it was all we knew. That dreaded and seldom talked about social contract. The system of control into which you were born just as certainly as Death and Taxes. Yeah, for the rest of us who can't outdo Rumplestiltskin spinning straw into gold, there is a life of toil and vulgar volatility and boy/girl, you're livin' it! 

It isn't really my aim to lay it all out in black and white because it always feels so much better to add a splash of colour. So if I have a point to get to, I'll surely get to it and if I don't, I won't. Writing is one thing, and it's an integral form of communication even in the age of the LLM. But writing poetically, eloquently to the point where people perk up and take notes, that takes something that I'm not at all convinced I actually possess. Still, I'll guarantee you right here right now that a lack of raw talent would never stop me from at least trying! Might even learn something in the damn process, see the world, make a friend or two. It's just the hill I have chosen to die on. You don't need to perish alongside me, no! You're free to go at any time. Find yourself another crazy wizard of time and space...

Who, indeed? Who is behind all of this? I mean... Nobody. There is nobody behind it. There's me of course, in it, doing things, providing value and... Particularly, without kidding, I am nobody (just not an anonymous nobody).

I don't need to/prefer not to lean on a name to ply my trade, so even if I used the name that follows me through life I would not expect you to recognize it. So what would be the point of attaching it to everything I do here? Sometimes a project needs a life of its own, free from the confines of ego and curatorial oversight. 

I'm a righteous dude, I've been around, I do things and I embody some intense values. My story isn't the story of Marrowild, per se. I'm channeling all of this from beyond Tau Ceti or something, I don't know. I move pixels and poke at keyboards and speak with machines. Frankly it's fucking mystifying, all of it. Right? Tell me you don't feel it too?! The cunning mystery.

There really won't ever be a "What" to any of this unless I am able (or you choose) to give it some meaning. So that's a big part of it, I reckon. Meaning, I mean. Seems the sort of thing that folks might even pay for, if they were so inclined and weighed down in the bindle.

Now Why questions, I've found, are a little less than useful. "Why are bears Catholic? Why do Popes shit in the woods? Why does a dog lick its penis?". You'll forgive me if I choose to not get bogged down in that "why?" nonsense. Don Rickles didn't need a fuckin' reason, and neither do I! 

There'll be things for the sensitive among you to enjoy, for sure. I'm not all just piss and vinegar. I have a soft side. I can be persuasive.

Where you find yourself on the other side of Marrowild is... Damn, that's really between you and the experience itself. I don't intend to rob you of even an ounce of the satisfaction. Get to figuring things out for yourself, anon!

Catch you in the mix 😏