Icarus Hazelwood was born in the early hours of July 15th, 2017 - not of a mother and father, but of a fractured mind and one too many Sazeracs. Unmistakably present, but yet utterly impalpable, in the light of preceding day I was left to question who, or what Icarus Hazelwood is.

I do not believe IH is a human. There is no flesh and blood that I know of other than my own that is bound to this entity, and I feel uniquely connected to it. But IH has no opinions. IH doesn’t laugh. IH doesn’t cry. IH doesn’t make tools. IH doesn’t use tools.

IH appears to me to be a kind of technology, born of relentless personal inquiry, like a lens designed to try and see beyond the fragile veneer of a meticulously constructed ego.

But who designed this apparent technology?

I’m not sure I can answer that, yet. Not in the language I presently have at my command. If I proposed it was “me” - well, that might be true. But I could not be sure which “me” I would be speaking of.

William James once said, of what he called “social selves”;

Properly speaking, a man has as many social selves as there are individuals who recognise him and carry an image of him in their mind. To wound any one of these his images is to wound him.

So, then, perhaps IH is one of my social selves. But can I be the origin of that self as well as the individual who recognises “him”? It is possible, but does not feel so.

James also spoke of a “spiritual” self.

…a man's inner or subjective being, his psychic faculties or dispositions, taken concretely; not the bare principle of personal Unity, or 'pure' Ego, which remains still to be discussed. These psychic dispositions are the most enduring and intimate part of the self, that which we most verily seem to be.

So, to use Jamesian vocabulary to try to understand this apparent technology, perhaps Icarus Hazelwood is a lens, dressed up to look like a social self, but all the while providing a view into the spiritual self.

Only time and experimentation will tell.