An Interview with Brian Wallace

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Labyrinth of Chaos
Brian Wallace
ISBN 1-56184-148-X
www.newfalcon.com
www.amazon.com
www.amazon.co.uk

In this avant-garde, counter-culture novel, Alan Agrippa embarks upon a journey of Jungian individuation that encompasses both geographical and mental terrain. As he travels through England, Scotland, and Ireland, he immerses himself in a broad range of philosophical challenges to develop an understanding of a world that, until then, is unknown to him.

Author Bio

Brian Wallace, 32 year-old author of the current title, Labyrinth of Chaos, is a mystic, philosopher, and writer with over ten years of professional writing experience. Starting out with an academic degree in psychology/liberal arts, Brian began to work behaviorally with clients on improving their lives. This graduated into a writing career that initially involved doing essays and stories. The high tech explosion of the nineties prompted Brian to develop a niche within the market for someone who could take complicated information and construct communications understandable to specific audiences. Brian has served as the key writer to an internationally known public speaker trainer and well known CEOs of Fortune 50 companies.

To prevent inevitable boredom from solely being immersed in the corporate world, Brian set out to write his version of the Great American Novel. Coalescing years of experience with martial arts and the study of many things eastern - with the desire to entertain while stimulating the intellect of his readers - Labyrinth of Chaos is the culmination of a few years of hard work and a more than supportive muse. Labyrinth of Chaos valiantly attempts to bridge the gap between progress and conscientiousness.

Brian owes a debt of gratitude to the great writers and thinkers who came before: Aldous Huxley, Alan Watts, Thomas Mann, Joseph Campbell, Hermann Hesse, Umberto Eco, Thomas Pynchon, and Timothy Leary.

Interview

1. Please tell us something about yourself -- where you were born and grew up, where you went to school, your family life, etc.

I grew up in North Texas - Dallas, to be exact - and attended mostly private schools. I experienced all the benefits of growing up during the real estate boom of the mid eighties and then the downfall of the market in the latter eighties. If you've heard of The Starck Club, I was there.

My family bounced around within a few Christian denominations like Methodist and Baptist while sending me to an Episcopalian grade school and then a Catholic high school.

My family was highly supportive of whatever I put my mind to. I was an average student who much preferred going to concerts and hanging out with my friends. I daydreamed constantly.

2. What is your current status as a writer? What are you working on? Do you have a day job?

I work full time as a freelance writer for corporations and individual clients. I am finishing up editing a book written by a very talented man approaching eighty years old.

3. What writing are you best known for?

my book, Labyrinth of Chaos, published through New Falcon Publications (www.newfalcon.com, www.amazon.com, www.amazon.co.uk)

4. How did you become a writer?

I studied psychology in school and became fascinated with the notion of being able to make a living toying with ideas.

5. What are your goals as a writer?

To create something worthwhile that somehow pleases or edifies others.

6. What would you like to say about LABYRINTH OF CHAOS?

Labyrinth of Chaos is about freedom and thinking for yourself!

7. What part or influence does David Bowie have in your writing?

David Bowie is a creative genius who has managed to profoundly affect the worlds of music, fashion, art and writing - just to name a few. Through David Bowie I learned that the road less travelled makes all the difference.

Read an extract from Labyrinth of Chaos:

Cool, treacly droplets of perspiration emanate from all over Alan's body. His heart rate accelerates noticeably. "God, would I make an incredible case study for Ronia," he thinks, rhetorically. He stands up and begins to descend the path, which exits the tower. With the backpack strapped firmly around his shoulder, and the sweet tinges of soreness from muscular exertion in his legs, Alan fuses with the bustling droves of tourists.

To calm and balance his now highly stimulated nervous system, he begins to judiciously inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth and then repeats the process for a series of repetitions. This ancient method of breath control he had learned through the practice of karate always aids in restoring energy and sangfroid during a drug trip. Alan's brain absorbingly imprints the sundry stimuli of the city: the busy refreshment stands; vendors marketing various products; blood red trolleys chugging along with business-clad passengers; lovers embracing passionately while taking in views of seagulls that nibble frantically at bread morsels. The alternately musty and salty scents of the city by the river permeate his olfactory nerves.

Alan wanders by foot up north through the suburbs of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, simultaneously thinking of Ronia and his indefinite plans of leaving London to explore other terrain. He hops on a trolley and pays the ticket handler. This takes him gingerly west through Barbican and Holborn. Alan leans his torso partially outside to feel a breeze as the trolley passes by rustic residences and weathered awnings that represent the homes of London's true residents---hard-working, modest Brits who work their restaurants and other family businesses honorably, struggling to survive.

To Alan, England's economic and social diversity somehow coalesce in central London. In cities like Los Angeles and New York, vast wealth stands in striking contrast to abject poverty. Alan senses a greater harmony and cohesion among London's economically disparate residents. Near King's Cross, Alan hops off and hikes along one of London's busiest streets with everything from beauty shops to pet stores and dance clubs converging with movie stores and hardware stores. Next to stores plying biblical texts are bustling pubs.

With his head still reeling from the drug, he scans the different shops and tries to locate someplace interesting to browse. Next to a tool shop stands a macabre, ethnic store which seems to be largely African, with an array of tribal masks hanging in the window. He approaches cautiously for a closer inspection.

In the storefront window sit myriad assortments of beads, blankets, and packages of tarot cards. Incense burns sumptuously through the doorway as an alluring Nepalese woman motions for Alan to enter. As he often does in such a sensitized state, he hesitates and assesses the situation to determine its level of safety. The place seems eerie, which partly attracts yet simultaneously repels Alan's interest. Curiosity compels Alan to enter. He affectedly saunters through the doorway and consequently catapults his consciousness into a decidedly surreal, mystical zone. Donning all four walls of the shop are various mementos from African countries and Caribbean islands that represent the rich Voodoo religions. Masks, swords, feathers, dolls, and beads in shades of mauve, reds, brown and sundry textures of leather cover the rooms.

"How do you do?" asks the dreamlike chanteuse in a deep monotone voice. Alan notices traces of South American and French accents in the voice. "Very well, thank you," he replies. "You have a very interesting shop."

Whenever Alan speaks during a full-blown acid trip he always---always---wonders if the recipient of his message is aware that he is tripping. He glances into a hanging mirror and notices that his pupils are severely dilated. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is somewhat tousled. He cannot help but notice a beautifully ornate gold-laden frame enclosing the mirror. Small, elf-like figurines are holding hands in a dance around the edge. The top of the frame holds a large joker mask that has an ebullient but mischievous smile. For a moment, Alan uncannily feels a stare directed at him from the joker. "I have traveled all over the world," speaks the woman.

"Everything you see on the walls is something that I have a great interest in." Alan smiles at her while trying to pay attention to barely audible voices emitting from a small room in the back of the shop. Alan wanders back there under the pretense of perusing a box of shrunken heads. A door is open and releases a male and a female voice. Alan peers into the room---as if simply trying to determine if there are further objet d'art.

He discovers an enthusiastic man in a turban guiding a female client through a psychic session. They are seated snuggly around a small table with a beautiful crystal ball shining in the center. The man is wearing a tightly fitting black bandanna around his head as he closes his eyes and verbally invokes a saintly spirit to make itself known. The seated woman chants softly a mysterious incantation while Alan trembles with fear.

Alan moves away swiftly and ventures back into the main shop. As soon as he passes a hanging portrait of the 16th century sorcerer, John Dee, Alan hears a glass shatter resoundingly. A reverberating tingle makes its way rapidly up and down Alan's spine as he proudly discovers the source of the noise. He witnesses the shopkeeper leaning over to pick up pieces of a broken ceramic bowl that apparently had fallen with a pile of books that had leaned its way. Alan rushes up to assist the woman. As he leans over and picks up one of the pieces, he inspects its unique design. The acid lens microscope of his perception narrows focus on a gold and burgundy inlaid, flower-pastel lacquer gem that shimmers in ubiquitous candlelight. He hands the piece to the woman, whose silky hair and bronze skin soothe his anxious nerves. "Will you go ahead and move the books over there?" the woman asks, while pointing to a table across the room.

Alan wants to be helpful but doesn't realize he will be put to work. He complies with her directive and then picks up one of the books. Its title is: From Alchemy to the Symbolists: A Definitive Guide to Mysticism and The Occult. Alan's mind is on fire. The drug is causing the pages of the book to breathe as he flips through it randomly. The first page he comes to is on the Cabala. It says something about being of Jewish origin and existing as some sort of quest for the secrets of faith. Alan reads something about ignorant people considering only the clothes as the story and not what the clothes actually conceal, which is the true essence. One section speaks of "God wishing to see God." This gives Alan a chill. "This is fairly abstract stuff," Alan thinks. "When God starts to see God and I feel as if I'm communing with God, there's no telling where this could go." Apparently the Cabala is based on sacred texts such as the Torah. A popular book within the Cabala is the Zohar which appeared in the 13th century. Alan learns about "the dream of Golem" in medieval Christian literature; a magician gives life to a "homunculus", or little man. It seems that Golem, an automaton, helps to protect persecuted Jews and the homunculus serves as a sort of housekeeper for the magician. "Pretty weird shit," Alan thinks. He scans through the book noticing sections on well-known mystics and movements within occultism. It is all extremely fascinating to him, especially in this drug-enhanced state.

"How much is this book?" Alan calls out to the woman. "It's 10 pounds," she replies. "I'll take it." While Alan hands her the money, he notices delicate, beautiful veins underneath the skin on her hands. Her nails are long, finely manicured, and painted purple. He slides the book in his backpack and gazes at the woman while now almost hoping that she will recognize his heightened state. She smiles at him and continues her task of arranging flasks of incense sticks on a shelf behind the counter.

At this time, Alan hears the two psychic participants' voices much louder as they emerge from the back room and begin trickling toward the front. The two appear now quite visibly disheveled, as if their trip to the outer limits has left them strained. The man is saying goodbye to the woman, his client, and offering her some consoling words about following her internal guide and about setting a shining example for others. Being near individuals who strive toward some psychic trance or spirit world leaves Alan in an ambivalent state. On one hand, he feels that it is as noble a pursuit as any to try to communicate with the dead or with the future. On the other hand, Alan experiences intense fear about opening the soul to such an experience and serious doubt concerning the scientific success of such endeavors. The man seems to be a charlatan but it frightens Alan, nevertheless. The woman writes the man a check, swings her purse over her shoulder, and says goodbye as she walks out of the store. "Sir, would you like to have your palms read?" the man asks Alan. Alan thinks: "No thanks, I'm afraid my bloodline's operating in hyperspace right now," but actually declines respectfully by saying,

"No thank you. I would rather not know if something catastrophic is going to imminently befall me."

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