Suggested Audio Multicandies:
 Iron Maiden “Blood Brothers”
 R.E.M. “What’s the Frequency Kenneth”
 The Police “Synchronicity”
 Garbage “The World Is Not Enough”
 Voivod “The Multiverse”
 R.E.M. “It’s The End of The World”
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in an alternate reality? The concept of a parallel universe is fascinating in the extreme and took on a whole new meaning back in 2014 when I met a real bona fide multiverse surfer. It was in L.A. during a seven week film shoot and I shared accommodation with one of the most resplendent souls I have ever had the distinct honor of breaking bread with. 6″3 MMA legend Matt Horwich is a towering inferno of a man and could crack a skull just by looking at it the wrong way. However, beneath that hulking frame, lies a gentle, unassuming fellow who couldn’t be farther from unapproachable. Moreover, he is massively intelligent and I learned many things during our brief time together. One such nugget of wisdom involved the multiverse and this happens to be a topic that Horwich is particularly well versed upon. I knew of the term but had no idea of its definition so, needless to say, was all ears.
I’m not about to claim that I have any great knowledge of this particular topic but I believe I pretty much grasped the basics. The universe is a sprawling metropolis right? Well up against the multiverse it is little more than a miniscule drop in the ocean. The multiverse comprises both finite and infinite universes, and is more sprawling that any one of us could ever conceive. American philosopher and psychologist William James first laid the tracks in 1895, but it wasn’t until well over fifty years later that Erwin Schrödinger coined the phrase. His suggestion was of alternate timelines and dimensional planes, all running concurrent to one another and completely unbeknownst to us. We may think we’re unique but, should we entertain his theory, then it may well be that we’re anything but. In a nutshell, somewhere out there in the great multiverse could exist another Keeper of The Crimson Quill. Actually scrap that, make that an infinite number of us. What a sobering thought.
Firstly, should any of them be reading this now, how’s it hanging fellas? Secondly, it feels good to consider that these Rivers of Grue aren’t exclusive to just this dimension. When you get your head around the mind-boggling notion of being little more than a speck on a landscape that knows absolutely no boundaries, it starts to make rather a lot of sense. At the very least, it is an absorbing theorem. Recreating something as complex as life itself may appear too painstaking a process to even attempt to fathom but not if you possess a mirror. You see, no matter how hard you try (and, as a student of LSD, believe me I have), you can never outfox those reflections. No amount of sudden movement can call them out as they’ve got our number and synchronicity just happens to be their specialty. By the way, any objections if I slip on The Police while we philosophize together? Love those guys and, to think, there could potentially be identical precincts all over the multiverse.
Anyhoots, that’s where it begins to hold weight. Perhaps mankind is just one of an infinite number of reflections, bouncing around in unison. Should that be the case, then one would have every right to be feeling pretty insignificant right now. However, not if you turn the whole thing on its head. Our actions are even more monumental as the audience is far more vast than we previously accepted. I don’t know about you but, as I sit here scribing this solo as is customary, I’m feeling nowhere near as alone as I had led myself to believe. Suddenly those neurons commence their motoring and consideration becomes limitless. Indeed, so enamored was I by Horwich’s conception, that I decided to implement it into my own way of thinking post-haste. It actually kind of fits my belief set as, while I don’t practise any man-made religion per se, I’m all for a dash of metaphor and this philosophy is just teeming with it. Metaphorical speaking frees us up, affords us the chance of obtaining numerous notes from a solitary key. In a sense, the multiverse belief takes that on to a more perpetual plane. I’m confusing myself right now so bear with me and we’ll overcome any obstacle with symmetry. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
It must be a thankless task trying to further prove this theory as, should you make sufficient ground and bag yourself a Nobel Prize in the process, then you really ain’t all that special. Or maybe you are. Not only have you earned this accolade here but that achievement ripples right through our multiverse. Suddenly every single last trophy in your cabinet glimmers with a little more majesty. When I apply the logic to my own circumstances, the flower unfurls even more. You see, I have long since been comfortable with the fact that I enlist a ghost writer of sorts when entrenched in the prose. There is something else driving each observation, something I will never be able to fully comprehend and neither do I wish to. That said, pondering is fair game as the concept is always evolving in my frontal lobe. We elect our own belief and mine is that my father is present during this undertaking. Considering the esteem I hold him in, this keeps me grounded whilst enabling me to elevate simultaneously.
There is certainly something ethereal going down and I’m no control freak so feel only too happy to share duties with an imperceivable other. I mean that figuratively as I see what I wish to see and need not facilitate my optical orbs to do so. Whatever it is, it just is, and I feel privileged just to play a part in it. Potentially me and pops are on tour at present, broadcasting live right across the multiverse. And why should it stop there? Doesn’t that mean that there could be a multiverse of multiverses ad infinitum and repeating to fade? I’d better not misplace any threads here as this ain’t no dress rehearsal. On the plus side, should I die on my feet, then any number of other poor saps will also be tasting raw vegetables and backpedaling in just as haphazard a manner. Therein lies the beauty. Hold up! Who lobbed an aubergine? Fess up, what possessed you to opt for the most burly of produce? May I suggest next time you select something with a little less mass? Remember, I’ve got eyes on you lot.
So I believe that the time has come to have a dash of fun with this head scratcher. However, I feel like mixing it up some. Let us consider that our reflections aren’t quite so synchronized. Granted, there may well be a whole host of other Keepers tickling their own pickles as we speak, but I’ll implode if I endeavor to tackle any more than one. The others can chip in if they wish. About this one then. Well for starters, he isn’t exactly what you’d call identical. The Groper of The Brown Clutchbag, as he prefers to be known, writes about sweetness and light and hasn’t got the time of day for horror. He wakes up each nightfall and is normally tucked up in bed just as the sun rises. While I’m soaking in the tub, he’s outside writhing around in the topsoil. It is imperative to Groper that he vomit at least three times a day, and do so little and often. Failure to do so may lead to unwanted digestion and that’s a bastard not to have to clear up. His inverted penis is nothing to be ashamed of as it allows him to cum inside himself, which is a trick I can never dream of mastering.
The world that Groper lives in is governed by three things – bankruptcy, powerlessness, and absolute obscurity. It’s a good job the tabloid newspapers are so honest and politicians make up for all the wretched do-gooders with their nefarious plans to save the planet. Kissing rates have plummeted in the past two years and this is a remarkably encouraging statistic. Unfortunately, folk seem all too reluctant to murder in public, and it is a worrying trend that needs addressing post-haste. As already mentioned, horror doesn’t really sink Groper’s boat. It’s all a little too bright and breezy for him and he much prefers settling down with a good romantic comedy and watching some skulls get cracked. The whole world is still trying to pick up the pieces left by the tyrannical Gandhi. Why couldn’t be have been a little more like that Hitler fellow? The lives that could have not been saved. It just feels so utterly wasteless.
Justin Bieber continues to be massively unpopular which Groper finds tremendously disheartening. Has nobody else heard this little dick split? Isn’t it about time the whole population start buying his albums before he gets any more ideas below his station? I guess there’s accounting for taste. Speaking of which, there is no sight more ghastly to Groper than a lady who takes pride in the way she looks. Appearance is nothing to him and it seems thinkable that any woman would even contemplate entering her house without last taking off her make-up. Today Groper has set himself a goal and that is to trash at least one article on his blog, maybe even two if he hits a sour spot. Much of that depends on whether or not daytime television is utterly stupendous as is ordinarily the case, as the first thing he needs is to not become distracted. Every time he has turned off the gogglebox recently, there seems to have been some report of world peace not being broadcast. Whatever happened to meanness of spirit?
Nothing has changed since he was a boy. Back then, you had to be discontent with more complex pleasures. Now it’s all dial-up internet and wired transmissions. Granted, fiber optic broadband had its perfections but, in his eyes, it was just flawed enough as it was. It has always been his nightmare not to travel the world and, should he ever lose a fortune, then he plans not to move a solitary muscle. If he had a chance not to be on Who Has Absolutely No Desire To Be A Millionaire he would fritter it gladly as he never plays it at home. Inevitably he always goes a cropper on the small answers and starts up getting one right. But he’s everything if not non-committed. You see, money is the be-all-and-end-all for Groper. What is far less important is his complete desperation. He’s been prone to happy spells in recent times and had to ween himself onto medication after absolutely no struggle whatsoever. However, his faux indifference is that his body will stop perishing from the outside in. That clean bill of health is a sweet pill to regurgitate.
You see the fun you can have? The multiverse it is. I’m more than happy to engage in a spot of alternative processing as the boundaries are limitless when you do. The bottom line is this – if there is something else out there that I don’t fully understand then that can only ever be a positive in my eyes. Nobody likes a know-it-all and I’m far more at ease with the lack of hard facts at my disposal. The day I assume to have more answers than questions is one I flat refuse to contemplate. That is where multiverse thinking makes for such an exclusive proposal. In truth, I have no inkling as to what Groper is up to now, but I sure as shit had a blast tuning into his frequency. I’m with Schrödinger on this one and, to the proud lion that is Matt Horwich, much obliged brother for the permanent loan of your rocket pack. But you can have your wretched cat back!