Brian Kirk

A Journey of the Imagination

Something Wicked Issue 12

My story, “No Longer Alone,” is featured this week, and available for free, on the website of Something Wicked, South Africa’s preeminent publisher of Horror and Science Fiction. It’s also included in Issue 12 of the digital magazine, available for purchase for a meager $3. I’d encourage you to pick up a copy. Joe Vaz, founder and editor of Something Wicked, not to mention aspiring actor, is a great guy and puts out a wonderful product. It’s certainly something worth checking out.

The story itself is less wicked than it is weird. In it we meet a lonely man who has been exiled by his family and friends after the accidental death of his wife. We find him toiling away in a life of undesired isolation, which is soon to be disrupted by some unexpected company. It’s a horror story, so don’t expect a sweet tempered neighbor to arrive with apple pie.

Anyway, it was a fun story to write. I’m glad it found a home.

I hope you enjoy it.

I love to read. Always have. For me, learning how to read may be one of my most indelible memories. I’ll never forget begging my teacher to let me take my lesson book home to show my parents what I had learned. What I had unlocked. Because that’s how it felt, as though I had broken some kind of seal. One that allowed me access to all the stories in the world.

So, naturally, I am somewhat saddened by the impending demise of the book. The paper book, at least.

But, only somewhat.

I clearly see the advantages in going digital: reducing paper waste, clearing storage space, lowering production and distributions emissions, etc.

What troubles me more is the overall decline in readership that may result from our digital migration. Already, people’s tolerance for lengthy prose has been diminished. If it’s not written in bite size morsels or in video format, you are risking a severe reduction in your potential audience. The movie business is booming while bookstores go bankrupt.

So? Isn’t it up to the people to choose how to consume media and what form of entertainment they prefer? Certainly, by all means. My concern, my only concern, is that this is just another area in which we are losing our collective war against one of humanities greatest enemies: apathy.

Why cook a meal when you can order take-out?

Why climb stairs when you can take an escalator?

Why visit a friend when you can send a text?

Why read a book when you can watch a movie?

Why? Because it’s not the same. It’s not even close. The difference? The use of the imagination. A movie is a passive form of story observation, whereas a book is an active form of story immersion. It takes place in the mind. It requires the use of the imagination to bring the story to life. To see the characters, to sense the atmosphere, to visualize the landscape.

The imagination, just like any muscle, will atrophy if left unused. And we all know the results that occur if the body is malnourished and immobilized. We enter into a slovenly state: weak, slow, lethargic.

So, what could be the ramifications that result from a society that ceases to exercise the collective imagination? A greater focus on rational judgment, less on creative problem solving? An increased emphasis on linear logic with a decline in abstract thinking? The world could become a place where we focus solely on what we can touch, measure, and replicate, less on what we can sense, dream, and create.

Technology has great intentions and the incredible potential to simplify our lives and connect us more closely together. Unfortunately, we tend to abuse these new innovations.

The electronic workplace presents the opportunity to complete what used to be a week’s worth of work in a single day, which should free up more time to enjoy one’s personal life, doing the things that satisfy the soul. Yet, we do the opposite. We raise our expectations on output, working harder, longer hours, increasing already strenuous demands on ourselves and colleagues, elevating stress levels to new record highs.

Social media and mobile communications present the opportunity to reconnect and stay in touch, which they do. But instead of bringing people together in a real and genuine way, people tend to talk less in real time, and, instead, chat from vast distances through virtual channels.

And, so too with stories, technology seems to be moving us further away from that which sparks our own imagination, as we sit for two hour blocks with goggles on gazing at incredible displays of CGI. I mean this from a macro level. As far as a general direction is concerned. Creativity is still alive and tap-dancing on bookshelves and theater screens. I just hope that we don’t allow technology to close the curtains on the theater of the mind, causing our imaginations to wither.

We don’t need a moving sidewalk for the imagination, it requires room to roam.

Opening these doors once again. Time to sweep up the dust and let some air in. A musty, misused smell has settled in that I don’t quite care for. If I’m to reclaim residence, some changes will need to be made, which suits me just fine. Change has become my friend.

2010 was a whirlwind. Drastic career change and radical family expansion, all occurring at once, like a supernova. It was a year of reckoning. A year of becoming. A magical year that I shall never forget.

But when placed to paper (or computer screen), these outward alterations appear shallow. It’s the internal shifts that carry in any sort of significance. To me at least. So, what did I learn from last year?

I was reminded that life is a wondrous mystery that is best lived in the present moment. Plans are nice, but terribly unreliable. And even the fondest memories fade. The only way to fulfill ones destiny is by beginning now. Right now.

It reminded me of how insignificant things are. Impermanent toys and possessions. I’ve found that the more one owns, the more vulnerable one becomes. There’s simply more to lose. That’s not to discount the joy in an occasional indulgence.

It taught me how sweet sacrifice can be. Especially sacrifice in the pursuit of one’s dream. Sometimes pork chops with powdered cheese grits taste just as good as a dry-aged steak with mushroom risotto, even when dribbled with the essence of truffle oil. It all depends on the intention of the act. Sacrifice can be a delicacy if it leads to a more fulfilling life experience.

I learned how narrow minded I had become. Being stuck in an unfulfilling profession, no matter how lucrative, can lead one to view life as a series of limitations, producing a close-minded outlook on the world. Pursuing one’s true calling can lead to a renewed understanding of the limitless possibilities that life has to offer, producing a more open-minded outlook. I’m shocked by how I allowed life to take on sepia tones. Once again life has become a shiny, happy, sparkling playground of possibility.

I was reminded about how intricately linked all of our lives are. How vital every single person is in this endless epic. I’m typing on a computer that sits upon a desk that resides within a room of a house that was built by people who used materials driven by people who received them from people who harvested the materials from people who… I used to look at other people as competition. Not any more. Now, I appreciate everyone. Even the people who look to profit at the expense of others. We all play a part.

And, finally, I learned that if you don’t write stories, they don’t get published. I wrote three stories last year; one of which was published and another is currently in short-list consideration by a major genre magazine (fingers crossed). But three stories? That won’t cut it. Not even close.

Last year was the year of change, molting the calcified shell, growing into a new role of father and full-time writer.

This year? This year is about putting all of my renewed energies into an impassioned pursuit of the improbable. And enjoying every moment along the way.

I hope you all are living the life of your dreams.

If not, I hope you get started on it today.

…you publish a story in a magazine called Necrotic Tissue, which loosely translated means flesh of the dead. Try explaining that to your ultra conservative, yet adoring Grandmother. The look of polite puzzlement was priceless.

Funny thing is, the story is a comedy without an ounce of gratuitous violence or gore. And the editor, not surprising to those familiar with most genre markets, is an intelligent, likable fellow. At least he portrays himself as such on some radio interviews I’ve heard.

Anyhow, the story, titled, “Aw, Hell,” is a satire on the backhanded machinations that often occur in the higher levels of corporate America. Doubtful that my previous experience as an Ad Exec had anything to do with this one.

It’s scheduled to run in the October issue, which is always a special month for most horror mags. I’ll follow up with a link to purchase once it’s out.

And I realize it’s been a while since my last post, which was two days before the birth of my twin boys. Now that we’ve finally established some semblance of a routine, I should be around more often. Until then, be well.

I often wonder about the muse, and her secretive nature. Is she lazy? Is she chaste? What causes her to come and go without warning? At times bashful, a tease, hiding just on the edge of observation, skirting away when confronted like a skittish kitten. Other times brazen, slapping one awake in the middle of the night with a fully formed idea or meticulous piece of prose, demanding one to take action or suffer insomnia.

I consider the muse to be the keeper of ones most intrinsic talent. Be it a form of creative expression, intellectual acuity, or athletic ability. Regardless of its outlet, the muse graces its host only on occasion. Athletes call it The Zone, Intellectuals: Insight, Artists: Inspiration.

Whatever appearance she assumes, the muse makes her presence known in a moment of complete, transformative epiphany, then takes flight, demanding one to chase her down the rest of one’s life and figure out what she requires to visit more frequently.

And you know what she wants? All she wants is attention. She may be the most attention greedy entity in existence. I once thought that the more prolific the artist or more accomplished the athlete, the more promiscuous the muse, a little nymphomaniac, offering it up all hours of the day. Now I realize that this is not the case. The most prolific performers are almost always the most dedicated people in their field, giving more time to their craft than anyone else.

Did I say attention? No, that is wrong. In order for the muse to overcome her timidity, and interlace her fingers with yours like a lover, the muse requires sacrifice.

So, the question becomes: is she worth it?

I speak as though I’m an expert here. I am not. I am just now coming to this realization, beginning to see the first glimpse of a slightly more trusting, reliable muse learning to count on a more consistent level of affection.

Nor can I speak for everyone.

But, for me, there is nothing more thrilling than when she appears unexpectedly, transporting me to a place of such splendid fantasy that I cease to exist in the physical world. Awakening later (how much, who knows?), dazed, surprised not to find a string of drool dripping from my lower lip. Times when she arrives and cinches a saddle to unbridled ideas, driving them forward at a relentless gallop, long hair waving in the wind, contrails of road dust swirling in her wake.

And nothing is more dispiriting than when she abandons me, leaving me to contemplate trite ideas. Leaving me to slug heavy, cumbersome words through pools of sludge.

I cherish spending quality time with my muse. So, is a relationship with her worth less time spent surfing the web, checking the channels, bellied up to the bar?

What a silly question.

Yet, still.

Why, then, is it so hard to give her the attention she deserves?

I came across this fascinating (for me at least) documentary called, “What we still don’t know.” This video includes contemporary Cosmologists, Theoretical Physicists, and Mathematicians all speculating on the mysteries of life that science has yet to explain.

The big ones.

The juicy ones.

The one’s that make your head hurt, and when seriously contemplated, make you feel slightly uneasy, anxious even, as though being spied upon, late at night, through a large back window.

The two main issues addressed in this video are, 1) how the world was created, which is covered in this entry and, 2) where do we go from here, which I’ll address in a future one.

This video takes a purely scientific point of view – hard, pragmatic, skeptical scientists, for which supreme beings are blasphomy to their sensibilities. While some of these characters are a bit eccentric, there aren’t any of the loony extraterrestrial-worshiping misfits that normally counterbalance, in a negative way, these theoretical explorations. Yet, this video elicits more mind stimulating theories than anything I’ve ever observed on the SciFi Channel. This video should open the most rational eye, and force the most sensible person to think, “You know what, this world is freaking strange.”

So, how was the world created? The big question is this: was the world created specifically for us, or are we just a random by-product of molecular fusion? The narrator explains that the more recent advancements in theoretical research suggest that the world was created by some form of intelligent design. This hypothesis coming as a result of highly sophisticated computer programs that simulate the conditions of our planet’s existence in relation to it’s universe. Because scientists know what elements construct our planet matter and atmosphere, they plug these qualities into a computer, then start screwing around with it. Their purpose is to figure out what other combinations of elements would result in the hospitable conditions required to sustain human life. What they’ve learned is that Earth’s specifications, in relation to the universe, are so precise, so “fine-tuned,” as to eliminate the possibility of random coincidence. In order for us humans to exist, the world basically has to have been created exactly like it was. The slightest, most infinitesimally minor tweak and we don’t survive. The problem is that this fine-tuning, requires, well, a fine-tuner.

There are actually three current theories to address this quandary.

1) A divine being: God. The Scientists, in this video at least, are still searching for a more “scientific” explanation, so they don’t spend much time exploring this theory. Or the documentary Producers figure that this theory has been sufficiently explored through other outlets. They’re probably right.

2) Our universe is one of an infinite number of other universes, therefore there are an infinite number of cosmic conditions, so it’s simply a matter of percentages that one universe should support human life. This theory, however, requires the same leap of “faith” of traditional religions. We are incapable of observing any universe other than ours, therefore have zero proof that would suggest that there are others, or how many, or whether or not they are different in any meaningful way.

3) We are a simulation created by a species of supreme intelligence. This species would not just be more advanced than us, they would be so intellectually superior that we could not fathom their intelligence. In this scenario, we are essentially a series of characters in a hyper-advanced version of The Sims. Basically, we exist in a alien computer.

So, right now, those are the three basic areas being explored. Any one of those explanations is apt to make one scoff, or say something like, “Don’t insult my intelligence with this nonsense.” But this is what our most intelligent minds have come up with. Personally, I embrace the weirdness of our world. Think of the possibilities these scenarios allow for.

Heaven, Hell, the Rapture.

Infinite universes = Infinite number of different species, some fundamentally opposite from us. Some fundamentally the same except for one essential difference, such as an inability to hate, or to love.

Alien simulation suggests that they can manipulate the settings whenever they want, creating an entirely new basis of reality at any time.

And these are real, scientifically based ideas, not just something you’ll find in a piece of speculative fiction.

Face it, our world is weird.

It’s time we all start believing in strange.

January 11, 2010.

A date to remember. Why? Because today feels like the beginning of something. Today feels like the beginning.

Let’s take stock. Where do I stand at the first of this new year?

Well, I quit my job so I don’t have a steady income.

I don’t have a steady income, yet I am just a few months away from being a first time father of twins.

My pregnant wife (pregnant with TWINS!) is on strict bed rest, so I am a full time care taker (or is it care giver?)

I’m out of shape.

Oh, and the economy is a bleak breaker of spirit.

So, where does that leave me?

Happy. Happier than I’ve been in years. Filled with an inflating sense of hope, optimism, and determination.

I may not have a salary job, but I’m making a living doing what I love most: writing. What a blessing.

My wife and I struggled to conceive, and now we’re going to experience the special bond that only twins bring. Precious.

Bed rest is actually bringing my wife and I closer together. Preparing us. Teaching me patience and how to accept sacrifice. Making me become a better husband, and, hopefully, future father.

I’m out of shape? So what? I like to eat. But I’ve quit smoking, curbed my drinking, and am about to embark on a fitness program (P90x) which will get me back to where I need to be.

I can’t control the economy, but I can control my attitude towards it. And my attitude is this. Passionate people with drive, determination, and an unbreakable spirit will always rise above challenging times. People say I’m crazy for quitting my job right now, but I believe that this is the best time to pursue your dreams. The playing field is about as even as it’s going to get. This is the time when people play it safe, the perfect time for the people willing to take risks.

Look at my life on paper, and it may appear shaky, but I’ve never felt more in control, and prepared to apply myself, I mean truly give every particle of my being towards achieving my dreams, as I do today.

I hope you are all taking stock.

And I hope you feel the same way.

Today is a day to remember.

Skinny, pleading, reaching.

Towards me.

Naked and menacing.

Deformed. Coy, and indecent.

A hanger, these trees.

Creepy, scary? Sure. But Clive Barker is as legitimate an artist as anyone out there. Great, intimate interview with one of the genre’s true masters.