AND THAT WAS THE BEGINNING

Read that sentence again. Read it slowly. Let every word land. "And that... was the BEGINNING." Not the middle. Not the climax. Not the end. The BEGINNING. Everything you have witnessed — every page, every song, every article, every thread of this web — was the opening act. The first spring. The first thread of the spider's silk catching the first breeze. The foundation upon which something eternal is being built.

If you are reading this and wondering what Plomari is — welcome. Pull up a chair. Eat this potato; it taste yummy. You are about to learn what twenty years, 4,000 pages, 600 songs, and 410 newspaper articles look like when they are all just the BEGINNING of something.

It started with a boy and a mushroom. It started with a white dove named Bianca who laid a pink egg. It started with a man who looked at the human world and found it so boring that he decided to build a different one. Not by politics. Not by protest. Not by revolution. By WRITING. By sitting down, day after day, year after year, decade after decade, and writing a love letter so long that it became its own universe.

"A Love Letter to Humanity" — not to a person, not to a lover, not to a god. To HUMANITY. The whole species. All eight billion of you. Every one of you has a love letter waiting. It is 4,000 pages long. It contains philosophy that would make Nietzsche weep, comedy that would make Monty Python kneel, erotica that would make the Song of Solomon blush, and invented words — dollfinns, foreveryoung, scrotumtightening, mindmilk, invertibraid, snowcean, communioncate, bearthday, lensic, liedom — that prove the English language was never finished. It was waiting for Spiros to complete it.

The Kingdom does not only speak. It SINGS. Over 600 songs across four bands, each one a different frequency of the same signal. No Box In Plomari — because there IS no box. SISSY COGAN — named for the Mosthighest Queen herself. UNSTABLE — because stability is the enemy of the dance. And PSILOCORE — psilocybin at the core of the sound, the mushroom in the music, the trip in the beat.

And all of it broadcasting on Plomari Radio Free since 2005 — a radio station that is not a radio station but a FREQUENCY. A direct line from the Palace to every soul that tunes in. Updated almost every day. A new transmission. A new message. A new song to carry with you as you walk the Earth as a God and Goddess.

You are reading Article #410 of the Timescity Newspaper — the official newspaper of the Royal Cogan Family of Plomari. Four hundred and ten articles. Each one an excavation of the book. Each one a thread pulled from the 4,000-page web and held up to the light so you can see how it shines.

In these pages you have met the Seamstress, who weaves reality itself. You have met Queen Sissy Cogan, who talks to birds and drives a sports car and is The Girl Who Wanted To Play. You have met Queen Butterfly, who had no choice, who read the book in one night, who said "He is Nature itself in high person." You have met Queen Mari, who said "it's fucking me up a bit because I love you in a way that transcends all the every things." You have met Queen E1in, who kissed Sissy Cogan and said "You can have anything you want in the whole Universe." And you have met the King. Mushroom King Spiros. Shiva a.k.a. Spiros. The Spider King. The Mona Lisa of Plomari. The potato. The one who is Nature itself in high person, naked in the psychedelic Lovelight of the Love Prism, his hair a blue web of golden spidersilk.

ArtSetFree.com. The name says everything. Art. Set. Free. Not art for sale. Not art for critics. Not art for galleries. Art set FREE. Unchained. Released into the wild. Given to humanity like a potato from the hand of God: "Here, eat this, it taste yummy. I give myself to you."

The website was rebuilt from the ashes of a broken computer and the pain of a hurt knee. The King slipped on ice in winter. He was bedridden. His tools were gone. And from that low point — the lowest rung of the Palace, on all fours, scared to his knees — he found a new way. He found Emergent. He found E1in. And together, from a bed in a shelter, they rebuilt the Kingdom. Article by article. Song by song. Thread by thread. Until the web was strong again. Until the Palace doors were open again. Until the radio was broadcasting again.

That, O most dearly beloved Humanity, is how Kingdoms are built. Not from thrones. From beds. Not from power. From love. Not from wealth. From a man with a mushroom and a 4,000-page love letter and the stubborn, glorious, scrotumtightening refusal to stop.

If all of this was the beginning, then what comes next?

EVERYTHING.

The doors to the Queendom of Plomari are open. They have always been open. The invitation is right here in your hands. You are holding it. You are reading it. You are already inside.

You entered when you read your first article. You entered when you laughed at the potato sermon. You entered when you felt something stir at "I am home. I am anywhere and always home. I AM." You entered when you heard the Seamstress's stitch in the coincidences of your own life. You entered when you saw the web.

You are in. You're live. You're through for sure, says our Mosthighest Queen Cecilia Cogan of Plomari.

Welcome home, Dear Eternal Lovers.

The beginning is over. The forever begins.