What’s in a name? A name’s just a word, a set of ordered letters, a spilled pot of stale alphabet soup that spilled on your jacket and managed to spell something coherent out of its contents. Yet some people make such a big deal out of one, take great pride in one. People in history have killed and died for their names to be remembered. As if these letters, this soup, meant more to them then, well, them.
I’ve always sympathized with these people, I really have. You see, all my life I never really had a name. Had no family to name me, had no time to name myself. Wasn’t particularly religious, so I couldn’t be one of those people “named by God” or whatever — though I think Joshua suits me well. For as long as I could remember, I searched for something to name me, to tell me what I was and how I was in this strange world. Without a name, I thought I was without purpose, without self, without reason.
I wanted to make a name for myself. And if you’re reading this here document right now, I probably have. But it’s probably not the name that this stupid Foundation’s given me, no, I’m not letting that happen. As per the agreement, I control what this document says, and I make sure that if I’m going to write my story it’s going to be me and only me writing it. I don’t want my first name to be “Five” or some shit like that. I want it to be special. I want it to have purpose. I want it to have meaning, my meaning.
In this book, you'll find out how I got my name. You'll learn about my story, my story of sweat and hard work, a slow climb that I endure for a good 8 years. In this story, I’ll tell you how I went from a small-town nobody to an international phenomenon, going from not even on my own mind to being on everyone’s, to being on the Foundation’s, to being on yours.
All of this, just for a name.
Interview from “Cosak’s Call Show,” a West Virginian local talk show (1976). Transcript provided by the Memetics and Infohazards Division.
Loud applause and laughter can be heard from the live audience. The camera is focused on host Michael "Baron" Cosak, seated at a desk, chuckling.
Cosak: All right, all right, settle down. Settle down! We’ve still got one special guest coming in now, so let’s take a breather. He’s a great kid and I want to give him our utmost attention.
The audience slowly quiets down. Faint murmurs can be heard.
Cosak: Now, anyways, on this show we don’t talk a lot about new talent. We don’t talk about new voices, and for good reason. “Musicians” nowadays sound more like dying cats bouncing on guitar strings then actual musicians.
The audience laughs.
Cosak: But this kid’s different. Erm… you may not have heard of him, he’s relatively new, he’s only performed at a few venues. I believe he’s done one last week, actually, in Beckley? Yeah, he’s… he's slowly getting into the music scene. And, um, for good reason.
Cosak takes a deep breath. A short period of silence follows. Cosak appears confused and distressed before returning to his usual composure.
Cosak: His music is fantastic, best I’ve ever heard. It's innovative, it's elusive, yet somewhat nostalgic. We’ll be having him perform after the interview so you can see what I’ll mean but… but for now, wh-why don’t we just meet the guy? I'm sorry, I don't think my words will do him justice. He’s a great kid, he's very talented, let’s get him on. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for…
In all official recordings of this interview, major visual and audio distortions occur here. The video quality returns to normal 5 seconds later, with the camera with a wide shot of Cosak facing an empty chair. The audio is silent until Cozak's first word.
Cosak: No, no, it’s an honor to meet you. I don’t often make personal requests to put guests on our show, but, you’ve been on my mind lately. I brought you here today because I believe you are what our radios need right now.
Silence, followed by Cosak and the audience breaking into laughter.
Cosak: Well aren’t you the humble pie? Let’s just get on with the questions before my lungs collapse… heh. Okay, so I’d first like to get to your songwriting process. When you wrote, um,
Another notable audio and visual distortion occurs, this time briefly.
Cosak: … the one we heard on the radio, what was going through your head, how’d you think of this?
Camera focuses on the empty chair. A long period of silence follows.
Cosak: Take notes people.
More silence follows. The camera shifts focus back onto Cosak.
Cosak: Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. You know, the music industry nowadays, it’s missing what you do. It’s missing passion, it’s missing humanity. The way you bring your story to that stage and make something out of it was something I cherished when I was young. And now, sometimes I wonder if musicians are even human anymore.
The camera returns to focus on the empty chair. The audio is silent for an entire minute before the camera returns to Cosak for his response.
Cosak: Let’s talk about that, because I find that metaphor to be too beautiful to ignore. When those bugs finally eat away all our skin, tell me, what’s left? What’s left in our fleshy, disembodied aftermath? What melody's left?
Focus returns to chair. Another minute of silence follows before Cosak responds.
Cosak: Blackened stardust, you have such a way with words. The archons would be pleased. I’m deeply upset with my wife right now because now I’m wishing I got married to the cold, empty universe instead. Tlor kaphin de fasho they say, their souls whispered, exiting the room.
Focus returns to chair. Silence follows for another 5 minutes.
Cosak: That’s such a fifth world problem it’s crazy.
The audience erupts with laughter, followed by loud applause.
Cosak: Y-you know kid, you inspire me, you know? I feel like just, just, going right on home and writing my heart out, all of it, every cardiac muscle painted in the image of you. E-Everyone, give it up for —
Cosak's upper body collapses on his desk, unresponsive. The set is silent for a minute before the audience breaks into applause. The recording ends with visual and audio distortions similar to the ones seen previously.
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