This internet of ours has become a brand new medium of expression, and as such it has opened up all sorts of new spaces, new folds and crevices in our brains where art, as it will, slipped in and sprouted. Perhaps my favorite example of this (beyond the bindle itself of course) is the ongoing saga of the Interface Series. From what I can tell, it’s a science-fiction/horror story, being told in installments by someone calling him/her/itself 9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES9, primarily as comments on reddit links. A small subset of the geek underworld is going bananas over it, and rightfully so.
Without giving too much away, I’ll say it starts with the narrative history of flesh interfaces, a recounting of pseudo-historical events told by some large number of distinct and unreliable narrators, each a fully formed character, each easily identifiable by their own individually realized voice. The existence of this story as an unfolding mystery in the mossy places of the internet is not what makes it special, though it certainly is genius advertising, and speculation certainly fuels the small but growing hysteria about it. What makes this work special is not the artist, or artists, or whatever the back-story ultimately turns out to be. In the end, what makes it special is the writing.
Holy shit, it’s so good. So good. I say this with the authority of someone who has read both his share and yours of bad writing. It’s cerebral, and philosophical, and littered with symbolism and connective foreshadowing. With an incredibly deft touch MHE wields the twin tools of voice and mind-melting creativity to coax the various disparate narrators and perspectives into slow focus as a single horrifying meta-story.
If this is just some shmoe off the internet, some lonely alcoholic basement-dweller and not an established author, then it’s someone who has been writing and failing and struggling and learning for a long time. This is no first-try amateur, it’s the fully realized, written and re-written work of someone who has paid their dues and knows what they’re doing. And what’s most exciting about it, is that it’s happening! This is a live thing, going on today, yesterday, tomorrow! Every morning I check the user’s post history, and the subreddit that sprang up around it, to find the new narrative pieces.
Things are speeding up, story lines are coming together, and the whole horrible thing, this shambling meta-monster of creeping underground art, this work that began so innocuously as a few head-scratching non-sequitur ramblings about mass LSD dosing, flesh interfaces, and segmentation, is beginning to hit some sort of stride. And the best part is it’s happening right now, it’s dynamic, and weird, and this sense of continuous syncopated growth gives it a buoyant vibrancy. Well, that’s not true — the best part is the writing. Holy shit, it’s so good. So good.
So here, this is your invitation to a weird new thing that I’ve just spent five paragraphs trying and failing to explain as introduction. Instead, I’ll do what I should have done from the start, which is simply hand you over to Mother Horse Eyes herself/himself/itself. If you’re my sort of weird, and you enjoy it as much as I do, then consider this my gift to you. For those who appreciate it, I see it truly as a gift, though I make no promises about your sleep tonight. And if MHE isn’t your thing? Well, then move along, you.
The slick lips of the magical space pussy beckon:
The Compiled Interface Narrative, begins at the beginning. Start here.
/u/_9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES, the user/author/authors. You’ll have to scroll way back to get to the first posts, but a good resource to stay current.
“I will always regard the first instance of a flesh interface to have occurred in Treblinka, 1944. The geologic disturbances, partial tunnels, so-called interdimensionality, and wealth of clearly segmented bodies leave no doubt of its existence. The Soviets have documented this.”
/u/_9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES9, post 6, 4/21/2016