Fanfare Octopus Novelist In Our Midst.

[Katie-Ellen]

Antzy travel Zen Adventures of body, mind and...?

See here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Techno-Pagan-Octopus-Messiah/dp/0953327515

 

[Richard Sutton]

Wow. So, He saves only armed invertebrates?

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Katie, you are sneaky good!
And thank you, Richard, for referring to them as arms.
Arms being used to assist in feeding, legs being used for locomotion.
What can I say? I was young, foolish and needed an editor.
But it's true to who/where I was at the time, and caught the attention of the best thing to ever happen to me. So I stand by it.
Wish they hadn't changed my ending though...

 

[Katie-Ellen]

I've not got to the ending yet but there's plenty in it to eat. I adore a read that tells me stuff, and the more eclectic the better.

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Can you believe someone just published my journal? How awesome is that? The first draft was written in INK! Like, with a pen!
I'd like to think I'm much better as a writer now but that story is something else...

 

[Katie-Ellen]

Tell us more?

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Which part?
As I'm sure you're fully equipped to understand: when I found the amethyst I knew I had a book. I'd been writing for 8 or 9 years, two unpublished (horrible) novels, rejected, demoralized etc. But when I found the amethyst it was like an aha moment: no matter what I had a story. But I'd also encountered an archetype-- maybe the archetype-- of Shiva in that same landscape and knew nothing of Hinduism. So I followed the thread to India... and at the end of it, in a completely sober, crazy/stupid moment I knew I had to come to Eng-land where they spoke Eng-lish. Had a thousand bucks, a pile of journals and a Nepalese sweatshirt. Spent three nights on the couch of an Irish guy I met on the plane in Hounslow-- three stops outside Heathrow so no, not very far into London. Went to a performance poetry club I'd been told about, did an open mike, got invited back, did fifteen minutes, got paid (ten quid!), headlined... and basically just got up on stage and screamed my lungs out about the journey. Won seven consecutive poetry slams (never a good night out which I tried my best to rectify), lost at Nationals, didn't embarrass myself too badly at Edinburgh, went to Ireland for another tourist visa... all the time writing, writing, always writing-- I had the most beautiful hand-pressed journals from Udaipur, the honeymoon city, in Rajasthan, where I sat and wept about the girl I lost and flower petals would fly off the page as I scribbled... and it didn't ****ing mattter if I lived or if I died because I was going to tell this story and not go back to my old job, my old life in the states and I would eat baked beans and hit every open mike in town and bartend the Electric Ballroom up in Camden from 10-4 three nights a week and I would tell this story if it killed me... and when my manager tried to **** me over, when I found out she was blowing smoke and hadn't read a word I'd written my father said "Don't fall on your sword." Of course now I know he was talking about the Japanese and hari-kari and not to make a martyr of myself but see, what I heard was "Don't step on your dick." So I signed an unprotected contract with I.M.P Fiction as their only first-time author and it was a wild and beautiful ride until an embezzlement bankruptcy of our distributors left me high and dry in Denver, Colorado where I remained for two years falling back upon my skills a marine aquarium technician until a half-tattooed, northern English Buddhist hedge witch dropped my book off a canoe in Thailand and had to replace a copy for a mutual friend...

That's my story, I'm sticking with it and I have even better stories now!
(Voice of Gandalf) THERE WILL BE NO EDITING HERE!

(thanks for asking)
x

 

[Katie-Ellen]

I find myself reading it as biography rather than novel, 'your' voice comes through so clearly. Call me hard hearted, giggling at the scene where you have a little haka moment...a knife face-off at the pyramids....my husband got cursed inside one of the pyramids at Giza, by a guide. Which one, I say? The big one, he says.

 

[Alistair Roberts]

Pyramid of Khufu no doubt! Still I could relate to Octopus's story, no haven't been to India, don't plan to. But the vague thought of a tourist visa of 6 months in Ireland has crossed my mind, but not practical when you're not on your own. Colorado? Maybe a quick visit sometime, Oregon is (for good or not) calling, so I can relate to jumping all over the place. Crazy but interesting, and bravo for getting it published. You could probably look at writing a movie script for your tales / journey as well

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Christ, my whole life was stream of consciousness at the time-- I still have bruises!
Funny (?) story: When the first edition came out we didn't have any press so had to put a blurb. But instead of saying, "Loosely based around his own experiences, TPOM is..." It read, "Loosely based around his own experiences, Ian Winn..." And I thought you know what? I AM loosely based around my own experiences. Best. Typo. Ever.

Glad you're getting the spirit of the piece, Katie! I did indeed lop off just enough skin to hit the ground but not so much as it never grew back. Still embarrassed.
We ended up publishing it as fiction for three reasons.
1. One particular thread needed fictionalization to avoid a lawsuit, but I think I captured it in the spirit of the law if not the letter. And so far, knock on wood...
2. I didn't think it was honest to publish DMT experiences, childhood dreams, meditations, weeks under the influence of government authorized bhang cookies etc. as fact. But the amethyst, the silly straws, the donkey (almost killed the deal but I held my ground), Jimmy Baba-- all that stuff went down. However
3. Favorite H. S. Thompson quote: "Fiction is the truest form of journalism."

The book I've just finished though is straight up non-fiction-- or as much as can be from 20 yr old notes and memories.

BTW, what was the curse?

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Pyramid of Khufu no doubt! Still I could relate to Octopus's story, no haven't been to India, don't plan to. But the vague thought of a tourist visa of 6 months in Ireland has crossed my mind, but not practical when you're not on your own. Colorado? Maybe a quick visit sometime, Oregon is (for good or not) calling, so I can relate to jumping all over the place. Crazy but interesting, and bravo for getting it published. You could probably look at writing a movie script for your tales / journey as well

Thank you, sir! Yeah, that whole wanderlust ramble really requires zero by way of overhead, emotional or otherwise. Oregon holds weird memories-- summer school in college, climbed Mt. Hood during a white out like an idiot, and also went on assignment for National Wildlife for a story on cougar hunting-- one guy had thirteen cougars in a rescue center plus one three legged cat. No-one had to ask what happened to the missing leg.Something I really miss about walkabout is not having an itinerary. So if something intrigues you 8 hours away by train, and you may not in fact return to the temple you're at right now, well, you just go and see. And if you have to wait two days halfway between, well, what do people do for fun in Gujarat?

The book was optioned 3 times by a small production company and didn't really have a chance in filming in Egypt and India. Still, they were lovely people with good hearts and I ended up extending the option another couple years for free as there wasn't any other interest except for a bit of smoke blown over from Hollywood.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

Some very famous autobiographical books have been partially fictionalised for reasons of whatever necessity. Promise At Dawn. The Story of San Michele.

A work loses nothing thereby, just as a caricature is not less of a portait and may be more.

The curse. Il Matrimonio says the guide pressed a scarab into his hand saying, I curse you. (A disagreement about a tip; Il M was over there on Army Exercise in Cyprus and had 4 days r and r before returning home. Cruised to Israel and Egypt.) Sheesh, I said, why did you not just pay the man? They're poor, they think you're rich and so you are, compared. The man was being a chancer; he said. They'd agreed an amount going in, now the guide tried to up it, coming out and he wasn't being pushed around and threatened with curses and doesn't believe that stuff, anyway.
I do, somewhat, but anyone can curse. I'd let them have it right back at them, straight off the reflecting shield...b-doinggggg.

A gypsy cursed one of my sisters, who was at 18 (and at 50 still is) a beauty, currently glamming on a fishing trawler off S Island, NZ. At 18 she was a Rapunzel-style beauty like you could hardly believe. The gypsy cursed my sister that she would not marry, because my sister refused to buy a flower made of pink toilet paper. I bought it and she blessed me for buying it. I said, this is my sister, don't curse her, we've both of us bought the flower. The curse manifested in distressing fashion all the same, co-incidentally or not.
For the dignity invested in a paper flower painstakingly made, at an asking price of fifty pence.

Clyde the octopus...ahhhhh. They are just amazing animals. Did you deliver his crabs alive for him to hunt?

Add: I'm glad the finger was not damaged beyond regeneration....

 

[Octopus Messiah]

You're also pretty susceptible to suggestion at 18 and I wonder how much that had to do with it. I refuse to indulge people who make you choose between the curse and the 50p flower the same way I refuse to indulge people who send chain letters. Especially the ones on faceberk that go, "Repost if you think" or "I'll bet no-one has the guts to repost this..." Nothing worse than a passive-agressive curse!

I had my first tarot reading aged 19 by two cross-dressed friends at a Halloween party who were reading people's Tarot, also for the first time, with a handbook (took forever). First card I ever got was (putting the ian in) the magician. After that was the most monstrous doom and gloom reading-- all of which proved entirely accurate, one of the most difficult winters of my life. Mostly because of organic chemistry. And girls. And organic chemistry regarding girls. Was the reading accurate (totally) or was it self-fulfilling prophecy (totally). As a Gemini, I'm of two minds!

When all the cool kids were going surfing I was down in the tidepools using a plastic curtain rod to flick shore crabs out of their burrow and put them in a special tank. Clyde ate 2-3 a week and I never did manage to wean him onto frozen food. Come to think of it I did rather indulge him. But I did have him opening jars and crawling out of his tank for his supper which was pretty special. Until... well, Clyde is a whole 'nother novel in and of himself-- he was like a cat to me...

 

[Marc Joan]

Which parts of India did you get to, Ian? I spent a fair amount of time out there, but mainly down south, which is frankly a different country from the north. I still get cravings for a proper masala dosai and maybe a couple of idlis to follow.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

Re: cursing absolutely. Anyone presenting you with the option upfront, do this or get cursed, can get shown two fingers. Curse me, I'll curse you. Suggestibility, I feel people are as they are and do as they do, suggestions that take root, if they do, are matched to the soil. Your reading will have been both, because what is intuited is the person's modes and make-up, just as weather forecasts are far from being predictions, being predicated on observed patterns, while still suspectible to the interjection of 'random' Factor X. I had my first ever Tarot reading at 18, a boy at school. He forecast a long range problem, a serious illness and eventual recovery. It meant nothing to me, I couldn't encompass that possibility; in my young, strong arrogance it didn't worry me. I suddenly remembered it 20 years later and thought to myself, goodness me, he was a natural, no handbook, and there's no one spread, anyway could indicate a thing like that. There was someone with a prodigious intuitive talent without the maturity yet, how could he have had, to excercise judgment in the expression of his talent. One does not hand out dooms, not only for the reasons you mention, which are very great reasons, but it is hubris on the part of the reader.

Never been to India. A friend went recently and reported what you describe in your novel, baksheesh constantly in your face, a hand, beseeching rarely more than 2 feet away. I went to the USSR once when it was still the USSR. 1981. Leningrad as still was, Tashkent, Bukhara, Samarkand, Moscow. Thomson tour! We were asked for things there too, politely, proudly, biros and chewing gum.

 

[Octopus Messiah]

Which parts of India did you get to, Ian? I spent a fair amount of time out there, but mainly down south, which is frankly a different country from the north. I still get cravings for a proper masala dosai and maybe a couple of idlis to follow.

Agreed: the masala dosas of South India are a wonder of the world! Think I even mentioned eating them three times a day. And I definitely followed around a couple of idlis (Chapters 3 & 4)!

The original reason for the trip was to research/recreate/follow a DMT vision that rekindled memories of a powerful childhood dream. And part of that was a Hindu figure floating in a ring-shaped disc above the pyramids (s*** happens). I needed to be by the Ganges but was also quite ill after being in Egypt so after Mumbai and Delhi, recuperated in at a yoga ashram in Rishikesh(*spoiler alert) -- then got totally derailed by aforementioned idlis to write copy for their coffee table book. Washed up at the feet of a wandering sage (IMHO) in Rajasthan and after that just floated, writing, deepening my yoga practice, Udaipur, Gujarat, Pune, Mysore, Bangalore, Hampi, Varanasi-- which I didn't include in the book but was very powerful-- then finally burned out and went to Palolem in Southern Goa which was just some shacks on a beautiful beach. After all that London seemed somehow familiar-- just a gray, rainy city in northern India. I think the act of seeking has a lot to do with what you bring to the table as far as expectations. There was a lot of hippie wreckage at the side of the road and I found that just as sad as people who write off the undertaking of such journeys.

Please correct me if I'm wrong Katie, but the first card in the Tarot is the Fool. Taking that first step off the cliff while gazing at a flower, with the river of life far, far down below.

Unexpected wonder-- rivaling the pyramids? Has to be the Caves of Ellora. The most ornate temple imaginable carved in the face of a massive cliff-- from the top down through the rock. Beyond stunning.
(sidenote Ragam: damn fine dosa, and value for money as well!)

 

[Katie-Ellen]

You're not wrong. It's joy and risk and birth, and even death, in the direct physical sense.

 

[Octopus Messiah]

One does not hand out dooms, not only for the reasons you mention, which are very great reasons, but it is hubris on the part of the reader.
Never been to India. A friend went recently and reported what you describe in your novel, baksheesh constantly in your face, a hand, beseeching rarely more than 2 feet away.

That's an excellent way to put it-- handing out dooms being a form of hubris. Because I mean really!
The Baksheesh is like a crust you have to get through to reach the creamy center! After a while I saw it as a necessary shield to-- often literally-- repulse the perfectly rational Western mind. And Imperialist scum, of course. To be reductionist about it, I found most places amazing/awe-inspiring/challenging/other generally positive adjectives-- but the interstices were almost always horrible. Would go back in a heartbeat-- but not with anything short of a month. It's a bad place to have to be somewhere else soon.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

I can imagine and I suppose, with no welfare state, everyone's got to pay in back down the ladder, and also have to put up with rellies they loathe and detest, living right in their faces. My friend said she had to hire people to do this and that, simple stuff she'd have done herself, till she was told this was not good, this deprived someone of a chance of livelihood. She'd hire someone for something so mundane it just seemed silly, go fetch her this or that and then they'd outsource till it got down to the bottom of the heap and the merest rupees. But at least those were locked into some kind of social pyramid.
'Hark, hark, the dogs do bark. The beggars are coming to town!' we said here once upon a time. But those beggars were considered so dangerous, so potentially murderous in their desperation, they could be flogged ot have their ears lopped of they didn't get back out on the road fast enough. Nice.
Went to Kos once, was so excited to be on Greek soil. There was a girl sitting begging on a street corner, such a proud, beautiful girl with the most splendid, beautiful ,enormously huge, I mean it, he was like a baby Hercules...a super-babe, a baby boy lying asleep on her outspread skirts. A few euros couldn't begin to cut it.

 

[Marc Joan]

Agreed: the masala dosas of South India are a wonder of the world! Think I even mentioned eating them three times a day. And I definitely followed around a couple of idlis (Chapters 3 & 4)!

Masala dosai eaten out of a banana leaf, sitting in the Nilgiri Hills, looking down on the Western Ghats. Tea plantations like emerald blankets. The scent of lantana. Moving west and south, lion-tailed macaques and pied hornbills in the forests of the Cardamom Hills. Sweetened lime juice after the blistering heat of the plains. Cool winds off the sea at Kanyakumari.

 

[Marc Joan]

Went to Kos once, was so excited to be on Greek soil. .

Darn shame what has been happening to Greece. I only went there once, to Corfu, when I was young and a bit glum. Slept on a beach with a little waterfall, where you could shower the saltwater off at the end of the day. It was nice, but due to my circumstances at the time, the memory is bittersweet.

 

[Octopus Messiah]

aaaaand (under the banner of fanfare): just received confirmation that full rights have been granted back to me! As is well and proper. Oddly enough, when I decided to ask for them back, my publishers had sold the company only a week before. Finally: I get the chance to be the editor I needed 15 years ago. Abridged 3rd edition e-book coming up. Inshallah. Harming no-one. For the higher good. Gratitude.