A homunculus is a bunch of things masquerading as a single entity. The little being inside your head watching the movie you are making of your life. Sensation and emotion distilled into a metanarrative of consciousness.
In psychology, a homunculus is a model of the asymmetrical space body parts occupy in the brain. In alchemy, it’s the tiny fully formed human alive in the sperm that makes a person who they are. Mary Shelley’s Promethean creation in Frankenstein is also a homunculus, a constructed simulation with a soul, as is the misshapen golem of Jewish folklore. Shades of mandrake, Caliban, Grendel, orcs. Modern internet trolls.
But we are not post-truth. All truths are contingent. My Homunculus is a collection of voices angling for Truth: smug, optimistic, freaked out, dignified, wretched, cruel, bellowing, bitching, whispers of rumors of The Big T. I am here too, unreliably so, parsing the noise made by disparate souls.
A homunculus is a bunch of things masquerading as a single entity. The little being inside your head watching the movie you are making of your life. Sensation and emotion distilled into a metanarrative of consciousness.
In psychology, a homunculus is a model of the asymmetrical space body parts occupy in the brain. In alchemy, it’s the tiny fully formed human alive in the sperm that makes a person who they are. Mary Shelley’s Promethean creation in Frankenstein is also a homunculus, a constructed simulation with a soul, as is the misshapen golem of Jewish folklore. Shades of mandrake, Caliban, Grendel, orcs. Modern internet trolls.
But we are not post-truth. All truths are contingent. My Homunculus is a collection of voices angling for Truth: smug, optimistic, freaked out, dignified, wretched, cruel, bellowing, bitching, whispers of rumors of The Big T. I am here too, unreliably so, parsing the noise made by disparate souls.