Sunday, October 18, 2015

2190 days ago...

From Mac's (recovered) twitpics page, captioned: "The f*cking Kansas City Marathon has me trapped!"
2191 days ago via phone

I didn't intend to do a post today. Yes, it's been six years now since the fateful day*, but, I'm getting to the point whereas I'd just like to discontinue counting.

That being said, I was feeling nostalgic last night, and found myself thumbing through some old email correspondence between Mac and myself which I still happen to have on this computer. (Not the really old stuff... that's in an older machine: "the black vault".)  I figured if I posted anything this 18th day of October, I'd find my inspiration there.

The first notable thing I found was a video link I sent him of a 2007 pyrotechnical display. I had the odd urge to post this immediately, but it seemed like an odd thing to post, so I held off.

Moving on, I found another link... to Mac's twitpics page. Now, if you recall, twitter had disabled it's photo pages, and I had removed Mac's twitpics link from the sidebar. But, lo and behold, upon clicking the old email link, all the photos appeared like magic. So, that was nice.

I've uploaded many of them here... in the event they're "disappeared" again. Notable ones: the one above... which was his last photo, posted to his twitter page on October 17, 2009... the first photo below, which is a shot of his unfinished "Crypto" manuscript... the cigarette smoking alien Mac dedicated to @WhitleyStrieber... Mac's tabby, Ebe... self-portraits featuring his new viewing apparatus... and a few slices of life in Kansas City...

(click on to enlarge...)


I also decided to change the videos on the sidebar... and, for this month's Mac-musical offerings. I figured it was about time to upload a little Morrissey. I'm not particularly a fan, but Mac was a rabid one. So, just for the hell of, I typed in the search word "Morrissey" on his blog, just to see what came up.

This came up... yet, another slice of life:

"They're out there! Real, live human beings who read this blog!

Tonight at my favorite coffeeshop the barista made a comment about my proposed lithium-ion-powered espresso cup. That was the tip-off. We briefly discussed the workings of the cup; she didn't think it would hold up to repeated washings. I tried to emphasize that the battery pack would be removed prior to being washed and that, furthermore, none other than author John Shirley had told me that The Sharper Image might conceivably go for the idea. That's got to count for something.

I spent a good part of the evening diligently scanning MOJO's new commemorative Smiths/Morrissey issue. I might have to choke up the $12 or whatever it costs to actually purchase this; the retrospective album reviews are excellent, even insightful. Returning home, I mustered the strength to remove "You Are the Quarry" from my player and replace it with Morrissey's first solo record, "Viva Hate."

Title I'm considering for my new, as-yet-unwritten nonfiction book: "The Postbiological Cosmos: Artificial Intelligence and Extraterrestrial Visitation."

What am I doing for Independence Day? Nothing, thanks. I side with Einstein: Nationalism is an illness that must be overcome.

I like fireworks, though."

- Mac Tonnies via the July 4, 2004 Posthuman Blues blog post: Adventures in meatspace.

... and, so, ladies and gentlemen, my impulse was confrmed by the man himself... and we're going out with a bang. (!) :-)

* For previous posts commemorating this day, see: Wish You Were Here (interestingly, prefaced with a quote by Bruce Duensing...), The Ka Door, From the Posthman Blues Archive (Part 5), Remembering Mac, and, last year's, Five Years.


  1. Memento Mori,

    What's wonderful about Mac Tonnies' writing is how it has that feel and flavor of many moments in the rain, or the half light of Blade Runner. You can almost hear the evocative Vangelis score playing alongside his futurist sad blues. Always a bit of longing hanging off the edge of some phrases, our perpetual desire to escape our sense of cosmic isolation is at the centre of his work. Could just be my personal interpretation of his writing, or how you can see different parts of yourself in a writer's work, the way Anne Michaels' poetry speaks to my core, but you can meander around in his words like Pris just looking for a safe space to get her make-up together and try out a marriage veil. Thought experiments of the fantastic frees up your inner wolf so there's nothing wrong with baying at the moon every now and then or carving up a cryptoterrestrial jack 'o' lantern for Hallowe'en. There's lots of ways to remember someone but it is in the ritual of remembering that we mark ourselves with the blood of others, their words written with their whole body. That's why, it's not a small thing you do, it's a fine thing you do here, Dia. May some wicked daemons look after these humans who blog their hearts out and wring out words of preservation, because reading is a way of remembering, soaking up the rememory.

    1. I think the most tragic aspect of Mac's early death was that - although he'd found his voice - he hadn't quite yet found his fire... and was, therefore, a tad too fragile. But, I think a lot of people related to that... and, as you mention, the sense of cosmic isolation. He was, after all, still searching. But, oddly enough, a longer life would probably not have changed that. I think we're all still searching... and, maybe, not even death ends the quest.

      Thanks! I do what I can here... although less and less as the years go by... but I do appreciate the sentiment, and your interesting comment.

      On the other hand, "wicked" daemons? Oh, I should hope not! ;-)