Letter to Editor

Not much this should appear directed, but don't mistake that for a lack of intentionality. The reefer 'n' beer addled insensibility defines us as organic original slop. Distinguishes our banner [High Wizard] to those who aspire to be job-less drifters, to those plodding aimlessly among hypertextual datastreams of infinite regress, searching among the glimmer for any signs towards the surreal. Follow the [High Wizard] sigils unseen and emerge from the wasteful lands atop newly birthing continents of forever plastics. Ascend the hills of refuse and e-waste towards the peaks, smog clouds hiding a bright hopeful infinite, of nuclear annihilation or mystic nirvana. So what if none of this is making any sense? We too have taken a considered glance around the place and as far as can be seen, there are diminishing returns on traditional sense making. Once again, we rest within the gestures in the rain and phantom symbologies of a nearby place as the wafts of revolution rise.

Let’s try to work our way through the things happening here. Names seem to change quickly. The Council claims to now be “Celestially Dispatching” their missives, while a confidently deranged eight fingered Merc rips a titanium ten speed cruiser down saturated yellow cover stock. Deep breathing ensues. A Peculiar Chaotic Shapeless continues while the reader is reminded of the rules: Non-Exposure, Mystics and Myths, Unknown Entities, and Hex Codes. They speak of these things as foundational in such a way that eventually they will become as bricks and stones upon the path.

Nonsensical corporate structures for a failed business splash across a spread, but our eyes are drawn only to the ‘Atomic Longhouse.’ If building some Conceptual Village is the end goal of this project, another forty year utopian commune built on the back of a radical set of Xerox’d doctrine, that too seems doomed to failure. But again, our eyes were drawn.  A similar set of printed cotton goods is once again cast before us, hot flashed from the inside of a brown trench coat, stunningly fake Rolexes clanging inside the moth worn fabric jacket of a sparsely decorated but strangely comforting room.

In the first printed “Letter to the Council,” a being in clear need of help seems to have developed their own narrative from past issues. I don’t know what alternate versions of High Wizard “Harlach the Concerned” has been reading but our issues have contained many more bumper stickers than inter-dimensional rift variance. To each their own. We are perhaps most compelled by the hand illustrated, post apocalyptic Himalayan mountain dweller attempting to detect whispers of reality within the gibberish printed in HI-WIZ issue #512 in what appears to be the year 2030AD? The following depiction of a roadside, yard sale style portal, built around an old Volvo station wagon would be a shockingly welcomed real life interpretation of High Wizard if promises can be kept and some version of a Land Program appears. Due to the inclusion of Lee Harvey’s haunting visage on the previous page, I am increasingly open to the general Psy Op of this entire program and though I have reach the end of yet another Mailer, find myself wondering once again…. why does it take so long for these to get here? And how long will I have to wait to do this once again?

With light and haste until the next time,

The High Council