Welcome to the Cosmic Swamp, traveler. Let me tell you a little bit about the man who runs the damn place.
The creator or “author” of this place, Malachi, might have been conceived in the 1990s, but he very well could be a time traveler from the year 2190 or a caveman who was frozen in ice thousands of years ago (he certainly looks like a caveman at times). His interests are simultaneously ancient and futuristic. He is both nostalgic and modern. He is equal parts traditional and contemporary. The incongruity of every aspect of his life and soul is what cultivated his eclectic yet patrician taste.
When he’s not fulfilling obligations to “the man,” our author spends his time milling about his quaint two-story home deep in the swamps of rural Ohio. He might be cracking open a long-forgotten or forbidden tome, poking through his modest vinyl collection to find an electronic or new age album to listen to, ogling the artwork of a black and white independent comic book from the 80s, or achieving a new high score in NES Tetris.
However, that’s not to say our author is a homebody. He often goes on pilgrimages to an assortment of vendors selling all different kinds of wares. And when he’s able to attend, he enjoys digging through bins and buckets looking for hidden gems at conventions of every sort. But the pilgrimages and conventions are only merely an “ends” to a mean: it’s often the travel itself that is the most worthwhile. Barreling through highways and backways and shortways and lowways at break-neck speeds (within the speed limit, of course) while taking in the idyllic country sights quickly passing by with the “radio” (Spotify) filling the skull with rhythmic electronic vibrations — that is the good stuff.
This here Cosmic Swamp is not unlike the swamp in rural Ohio that our author resides in. In fact, both places might be one in the same. This place is a digital reflection of the very perception of our author. Not one’s perception of our author, but our author’s perception of the world.
What you’ll find here are articles written by our author about music, religion, literature, history, philosophy, economics, and any other endeavors that our author arrogantly believes to be higher pleasures (he’d tell you that it’s just a coincidence that only endeavors he’s interested in are considered higher pleasures).