NEWS: The Sunday Hangover with Warren Ellis

CULTURE: The Sunday Hangover with Warren Ellis

THE SUNDAY HANGOVER
007
WARREN ELLIS

The other week I made reference to “the Philip K Dick Condition.”

Philip Dick, to my mind, was the great visionary writer of the 20th Century. Alan Moore thinks it's Lovecraft, but I think Dick contains Lovecraft, and Kafka, and in his own visions recontextualises and adds to them both. He was a visionary in both senses: he saw the future, and suffered his own instructive hallucinations.

And never doubt the power of seeing things that aren't there. Rene Descartes, the father of modern mathematics, had his whole method explicated to him by an angel he saw in a dream. Mathematical logic as we understand it today is a hypnogogic vision.

Which is as good a way as any to understand Philip Dick and the 21st Century. What makes Philip Dick more relevant to today is not necessarily the quality of his fantasy, but the complexity of it. And him. Philip Dick was as much an anti-hero as any of his characters. He's a counter-cultural hero whose personality was forged in the fifties, not the sixties. He was a champion of the drug culture who attempted to sell out friends and acquaintances to the FBI. He saw into people, but knew himself not at all. This is a guy who took speed every day for years, and then was told by a doctor that his liver was so fantastically efficient that it processed out any drugs in his system before they had a chance to affect his central nervous system. To which he replied, well, I guess that explains why I like to take speed before I go to bed. The only writer on earth who'd write for ninety-six hours straight and then pass out on the office floor due to the placebo effect.

He was religious, in that slightly creepy near-agnostic way that seems to affect middle-aged American science fiction writers. Whitley Strieber's another one -- before he got into the whole anal-probe stage of his career, Strieber freely admitted to having tried every religion on the shelf. He actually said out loud the words "I have experimented with worshipping the earth." He spent a significant chunk of his life looking for something bigger to give responsibility to. As did Philip Dick, who went through various denominations of Christian church in the hunt for something. Which he found in 1974. Just as Whitley Strieber supposedly found Anal Aliens, Philip Dick found his own science-fictional epiphany. He swore blind, in fact, that a satellite was firing into his brain an information-rich pink laser from orbit.

Like many middle-aged American science fiction writers, he needed more spaceships in his life.

He wrote a million-word diary, termed his Exegesis, where he tried to understand what he perceived to be happening to him. Something was streaming data into his head. He needed to understand what. He believed -- and this is hardly unique to him -- that something was seriously wrong with the nature of reality, and he needed to understand that. (His problems with reality extended to considering that a chunk of history actually hadn't happened at all. For a good piece of his later life, he thought we were all living in the early years of the first millennium. That in fact we were stuck in the emergent years of Christianity and everything we think we know is fake. Most of you will recall this notion from THE MATRIX.)

Phil Dick didn't need a vast invisible satellite to explain away the fact that he finally started paying his bills and chasing his agent for slipped royalties. But it helped to think so. He suddenly "knew", one day, that his son had some kind of undiagnosed physical defect and took him to get checked out. Which is either knowledge from beyond or the sudden paranoia of someone who was both a famed nutcase and drenched in amphetamines and also wrote some of the most paranoid fiction of the 20th century.

And make no mistake, Phil Dick was mental. As mad as Lovecraft, who was afraid of everything. Phil Dick used to leave notes for the FBI, informing on his friends, under his garbage cans, certain that that was where the FBI were checking. On the street, he'd be almost overwhelmed by the compulsion to surrender to passing police officers. If he were around today, he'd be holding up handpainted signs reading "I give up" to security cameras. In Britain, there are plans to erect listening posts running software coded to pick out criminal phrases and terroristic language. Trust me: as scary as it seems here, George Bush's America doesn't have a monopoly on the Philip K Dick condition.

I honestly think Phil Dick was hearing the same thing that Terence McKenna was hearing when he thought the mushroom was speaking to him, and which magicians hear when they enter into conversation with angels or demons. I’ll return to this another time, if I for some reason have another lucid Sunday morning soon.


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For the last couple years I've been reading only Philip K Dick. I really enjoy his work, I don't read a lot, so I normally go through about a book a month. I think in the past two years I've read one other novel that wasn't by him.

It's funny you should focus on him today, when I just purchased your novel last week, and was planning on starting it today.

Very strange indeed...

Best hangover yet - and completely appropriate considering how much liquor was consumed last night and over breakfast this morning.

Pimm's and lemonade, breakfast of champions.

Recently finished Flow my tears the policeman said and was reminded of how much i love his work. Now i'm more inspired to seek out biographical things on him.

In vein with the listening posts comment; i've seen the street cameras around here for years now, but only recently have the signs started appearing around LA stating something like " LAPD - To Protect and serve. Video monitoring in progress. For your protection. "

Another interplanetary agent a la Burroughs. Decoding alien signals via typewriter. And we are better for it.

"To fight the Empires is to be infected by its derangement." "Whoever defeats part of the Empire becomes the Empire; it proliferates like a virus... thereby it becomes its enemies."

How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later by Philip K Dick, 1978

I love PKD, but the great visionary writer of the 20th century is still, in my mind, JG Ballard.


Great article.

If he were around today, he'd be holding up handpainted signs reading "I give up" to security cameras.


The New York Surveillance Camera Players

I like giving the finger to cameras that don't hide themselves well enough. Evolve, goddamn it. If I'm going to be forced to live transparently, at least don't leer!

Quite lovely and hilarious! I give the most toothy smile to all the security cameras I encounter . I've been reading a bit of Phillip Dick's works lately but did not know he was that excentric. Warren Ellis is always on my must read list!

This column really does beg the question: when are we getting the next issue of Desolation Jones?

I feel like I'm being mercilessly taunted. Either the correct Ellis material still eludes me, or the mad bastard hasn't set down his full thesis/opinion regarding mysticism of this sort and what I assume he's implying is a sort of race memory in the line:

"I honestly think Phil Dick was hearing the same thing that Terence McKenna was hearing when he thought the mushroom was speaking to him, and which magicians hear when they enter into conversation with angels or demons"

I demand more of this sort of thing, but I also want hideously obscene characterizations of useless celebrities. It's a hard choice.

The last paragraph is tantalizingly vague. I would love to hear the rest of this and also where does Warren Ellis get his ideas?

Well done