in deep sleep i feel the grip upon my leg, pulling me down but i'm laying upon my stomach and although i immediately wake up i cannot move. the pull subsides but the grip becomes stronger. my instincts are good, and i'm alert to my situation but immobalised as i attempt to pull myself from the bed, even pull my leg away from the vice like grip. there's a sense of terror now, i can't even turn my face to look, it's still very dark but all normal reactions are frozen, except my thoughts. my thoughts begin to reorder themselves from terror to focus, it's all i have. there are several layers to my frozen state and i have to break through all of them, eventually i scream out quite loud. it's been a long time since i have screamed but it's loud and i find myself spinning around as if sound has broken the spell.

there is nothing there, in fact my leg is in a completely different position than i thought it was. it's 4am and i cannot return to sleep, i'm quite disturbed. when shayne comes to pick me up around 9am i am releived to see a friendly face. we head to 'lords of pour' at ettalong for our coffee, the horror fading away into a pleasant morning with a friend. shayne tells me about the time he saw talking heads in new zealand on the last gig of the stop making sense tour. perfect.

what is the now, the moment we can't actually live in as our sensory system takes 'time' to acknowledge the true now. what we live in, is actually our last memory. the now is the face of the explosion, the big bang as time explodes forwards. and what we incorrectly call 'now' is the point just behind it. 

if you want to really live in the now, then you have to time travel a fraction of a second into the future lest the now is just a relative term.

 

okay mission control is looking so good at the moment, it's taking form. i hardly go out these days, just happy and content being home, hanging out with jake and doing our thing. the plants are outside getting a soaking, inside they look semi tropical like the jungle encroaching into the lounge area, sometimes when i watch tv shows it's almost as though i'm outside. 

my new chesterfields give the place an elegant stately look, and the new workstation with large screen computers at least allow me a decent space to write. 

i've switched my small coffee table for a really large one, and created a few new areas where i can let my vines hang down. 

the dining room has a bare look now, clear seating and just a gothic candelabra on the table, no books, papers, CDs or clutter just my occasional red wine and a joint upon a dark balinese long wooden dining table. there's a deck of brand new sigil cards daemon sent me, simple but elegant, i like them as i work my way through them.

music is from the future, an artic band i'm following them, part science fiction and part classic. a beautiful ethos cruises through the vibe, some kind of spell from the future, where it's all gone wrong, travelling back to correct the faultline.

tomorrow i plan to do my floors, early morning shine and treatment. i've been meaning to do it for weeks but never found time. i planned to do it this morning but did my first aid certificate instead, always good to have it, never know when you need to jump into action. i've saved a few lives thanks to my confidence. i'm always good in emergencies. 

sunday i have to see shayne, and also pick up another lions mane grow bag. 

 

most of the time

closure. makes people sound like a room, people are not rooms they are labyrinths and mansions. the harder you try to escape the more we become lost within them. i don't believe in closure,  doors shut and open all the time, closure is just an aspect of a process, it's opening that we really have to do, only therapy won't go there directly, it goes to closure and often ends. with closure. preservation is a better way to describe what we attain to when we seek closure. finding the moments that we freeze frame in amber and reflect upon, carry into our futures and pass on to the next. i often think about my dad, a great man despite his faults, he was striving to be all things to all. he loved in that old clint eastwood way, by righting wrongs and choosing his causes well. he was a strange druid though, a man of mystery underneath all that 'chancy gardener' persona. 

 nevermind

most of my readers won't watch this fully, i know that. but fuck you. fuck you all! all you assholes who stand with these fucking death cults. the fucking red cross, the united nation, the charities and human rights people, the endless lies, the dumb academics and fucking outrageous re-writing of history, the pathological hatred of jews shines a light on you, not me. i've always said hate us all you want, do I give a fuck, just don't put us in concentration camps or degrade us anymore but even that you can't fucking do. I'm glad you hate me, i'm glad you want me dead, it just shows how right my side of the fence is.and you, you are a death cult. every fibre of your hypocritical mindset screams what an ugly fascist you actually are disguised under some word like humanitarian, human rights, equitable, fucking nonsense words that as she said, have totally lost their meaning.

in the great book 'dances wth wolves' there's a scene where the protagonist a disillusioned solider is taken by indians and initiated into their tribe. on his first hunt  he kills a buffalo and in his honour he is to ear the liver of the beast plucking it out of the freshly killed animal he holds it in his hands. hesitation amongst the savages. he processes he has upmost respect for the indians, he loves their freedom and culture, he loves their sacred visions and brotherhood and he feels close to them in spirit. so without further thought he plunges his face into the warm organ and takes a bite, in which he describes it as the most wonderful tasting thing that has ever passed between his lips.

most people these days are on a new fashionable diet called the carnivore diet, which basically allows you to only eat meat / fish and cheese. it's amazing how positive the results are, as bodies heal themselves and optimal weight is attained. i'm not certain, i think there's something to be said for balance, nutrition comes in many forms, colours and tastes, plus i like fruit which would be out of bounds. i believe in the idea everything for healing is within nature, even cancer, tumours and ms. god has provided us with everything, but we must be conscious. we must seek nutrition, taste and flavour are of little consequence. the best kind of diet is the one where food is close to the sun, the source. no processing. the kind where one bite and you feel it working.

if i follow a diet its just, eat good organic food, don't eat to much, be grateful for it and enjoy it.  

'almost like the blues' kinda sums it up for me. that sparse music and that piano towards the end, it's me right now thinking about everything, family, friends, my history and myself. the endless cycle of it all and the survival of a people against all the odds. the word biblical is useful here and now. it really is biblical as it's so overwhelming like a dark shadow risen from a fable, the hate, the overt violent intent and pathological need for people to express it in the most brutal ways, given they now have a green light to do so. it's always been there under the surface but now it's almost acceptable. now it's dinner party etiquette. it's fashion again.

I saw some people starving

There was murder, there was rape

Their villages were burning

They were trying to escape

I couldn't meet their glances

I was staring at my shoes

It was acid, it was tragic

It was almost like the blues

It was almost like the blues

I have to die a little

Between each murderous plot

And when I'm finished thinking

I have to die a lot

There's torture, and there's killing

And there's all my bad reviews

The war, the children missing, lord

It's almost like the blues

It's almost like the blues

Though I let my heart get frozen

To keep away the rot

My father says I'm chosen

My mother says I'm not

I listened to their story

Of the gypsies and the Jews

It was good, it wasn't boring

It was almost like the blues

It was almost like the blues

There is no God in heaven

There is no hell below

So says the great professor

Of all there is to know

But I've had the invitation

That a sinner can't refuse

It's almost like salvation

It's almost like the blues

It's almost like the blues

Almost like the blues

Almost like the blues

Almost like the blues

okay well lunch was very interesting, i'm not sure if i can write about it here but, fuck it, i lead such a strange life you won't believe it anyway. suddenly i find myself introduced to some central coast people, a large group who meet for a dinner once a week. these people had begin to see the veil slip away, either by a conspiracy theory they follow, a connection of dots, covid and or their own experience, divination or intuition, and in my case maybe there are no accidents. anyways i meet up about three months later for lunch with some friends who are putting together a survival pack. they wanted my input. now i don't know about survival, i can't bare camping or bushwalking even, the idea of skinning a rabbit, well i can't imagine me doing all that but in a mid level minor apocalypse i can learn a few skills. anyways we are working out a strategy if something happens, aligning clusters of peoples into communities with a meeting spot and certain conditions on when to implement this. each community has a communications relay that will travel a certain distance that enables it to reach the next community. 

we worked out what to put in a bug-out -bag, and some simple tricks when it comes to food management. anyways, i managed to get some very nice cbd oil which i tried and it's magnificent, so i came away very happy. i was also given some amazing stuff that gets the vaccine shit out of the body. it's the missing ingredient that i missed while i was detoxing. so apart from preparing for the end of the world i scored some really great oil. that's a productive day although i forgot to do my laundry.

again last night a small group meet for a small dinner and we discuss many things although i don't get to caught up into the fear element i do have a lot of offer as people discuss last nights piers morgan and tucker interview which i happened to see. lets see while tucker is slightly reasonable, piers is an idiot who has no principles and follows the crowd. evidence of this is during covid where he wanted to jail and humiliate anyone who questioned the vaccine. he was a nasty bastard and very hostile, condescending and pushed the establishment without any thought. now he has been proven wrong he blames his producers and the government.

tucker on the other hand is smarter, more independent and asked some good questions although he holds churchill  responsible for current times, after all he says, what exactly did churchill win, gesturing to what's happening in the UK now. the problem with this is churchill is not responsible, he no longer served as PM after the war. it's a reasonable but misguided question which tucker needed to think deeper about as i have, and suggest that the war never was won by the allies, it was absorbed by them and the nazi's were taken into all the institutions and given responsibilities that although appear very different from the third reich have exactly the same ideology. NATO, NASA, the UN, WHO and WEF all have one agenda, global government and domination. they are all left wing as in national (international) socialist and they are all restrictive of individual freedoms. come on tucker, join the dots and see the picture.

 

slowly i'm getting somewhere at mission control, it's taken years but things fall into place, a new kind of commitment and certainty, a drive that had been missing for years has returned. it's obvious the ocean is important to me, that dawn surf to start the day. a boxing session. my first coffee and chat with the terrible friends at terrible, and then the return to write. everything else gets in the way but it has to be that way. i need space for reading in between. it really feels as though time is running out and my work life balance is out of whack, so adjustments must be made. work takes up to much time, i need more play.

thus changes are afoot.

 

jake comes over and we get stuck into some cleaning up at mission control, slowly things come together and i can see my need for more storage or the removal of certain items. i did take a big box of books down to the book exchange thinking i'd get at least $50 but instead was given $10. anyway's i'll stick to the market place when it comes to selling books, at least you meet people. we clean up and assemble a brand new work station, it's a new ben monster and attaches to the mac book, so i have a larger screen, eventually i will get a mac mini and new keyboard but this is a long way off, for the moment it's just maintenance and clearing space. everything looks groovy now, just three very cluttered spaces i need to sort out.

i finished 'crime' and begin 'the long knives' discuss with jakob the opening statement about the difference between enemies and adversaries, it's a good one.

'an adversary is someone you want to defeat. an enemy is someone you need to destroy.with adversaries, compromise is virtuous, after all todays adversary could be tomorrows ally. but with enemies, compromise is an unsatisfactory appeasement. in our modern age, we are loosing the distinction between the two'

bread recipe for people who don't like yeast like me.

180g lentils

2 eggs

100g yogurt

1tbs garlic powder

30g parmesan cheese grated

1tbs parsley chopped

10g baking powder

20mls olive oil

sesame seeds sprinkle to taste

coat pan with oil

prep lentils soak for 1 hour

wash and remove water after 1 hour completely

get bowl, make batter with lentils, 2 eggs, 100g yogurt.

mix until smooth

sprinkle salt, garlic cheese parsly

stir

put baking powder into mix with olive oil and mix

pour into bake pan add  seeds on top

put in 180 oven for 45 mins

let bread cool

eat

i rock up to avoca in my emeraldine machine, see a war torn killer lugging a guitar and some bags into the back of a rabbit field with a beach view. i follow but mysteriously he has vanished through some sort of portal i can't access. as i stand in the field mystified i get a text from wild child who is down on the beach sucking on a cone with ryissa. i wander down to say hello. 

later we sit outside in the gardens of avoca cinema, it's all rather wonderful with dumplings being cooked nearby, cocktails and live music from someone who claims to knows me. he's singing songs which ryissa and i recognize have the dna of others, we hear the rolling stones and steve harley. ryissa starts to sing, she's got a good voice, it's rich in quality. we are joined by our very own personal rockstar. he shares some food and we talk a bit about books. it's good to see him, a wise man, a humble man, a lover, fool, observer of truth, a spiritual man with hedonistic bents, a man who makes you laugh. a man who pulls amazing words from the ether and turns them into powerful spells, songs and poems. a renaissance man, in an age where anything remotely renaissance is commodified into a the blob of western culture, he remains detached from it all, yet deeply connected to humanity. 

the night flashes by, it's far to fast for me, all those first songs are short songs and there are many but i'm in that zone, that blissed out place i can only get to with him and his tunes. tonight he plays his guitar so well, it's sound resonates through the theatre and pans out around your body, hugging tight like a favorite lover and friend, and i close my eyes and drift away. 

in the first set the songs are a collection of solo one's or collaborations, and each is it's own jewel. how i love the grant mclennan ones, almost as much as the stories, bob dylan, 'wiggle wiggle' i get it. i really would have liked grant i reckon. he seemed very sensitive. i really understand how he felt. and then there's 'keeper' my fave. nothing is as sublime as that song. tonight i notice how amazing his voice is, with that guitar, simple chords and melodies yet the voice fills the space, the words dance through the gaps, majestic poetry in motion. each song has it's own story, new antidotes, ever changing, always the same. that first set was special we even got 'sept 13th. and 'limbo.' rarer than hens teeth, our rock star is on a roll.

the second set are old faves, recontextualized for solo guitar and yet still as good, chords fill up the space above my head, words drift between my ears. all these songs grow from one tree, and it's a unique tree of life and death and man and women and the universe. 

these for me are peak moments, nights like this, things that will flash before me when i die, the perfect moments. these are memories in future tense, what a great line that is. it's clever, almost a book, a philip k dick book and that's our rock star, man of the people, man of the future and moment. a lesson in genius, truth and the classical nature of the creative spirit. he's off the past and future but he really is now. and that's exactly where i am.   

the gospel according to tony day is my fave bowie cover, in fact it's the only one i like and i would say it's even better than the original. sacrilege but it's true.

it's covered by

by edwyn collins

and check out these lyrics, david must have been feeling ripped off at the time he wrote these, taken advantage off. i particularly enjoy his wry comments after the chorus, it's an unusual song even for bowie.

The gospel according to Tony Day
The gospel according to Tony Day
The gospel according to Tony Day
If I find a girl he'll take her away
Rotten Tony!
The gospel according to Brendan O'Lear
The gospel according to Brendan O'Lear
The gospel according to Brendan O'Lear
If I buy him a scotch, he'll buy me a beer
Tight fist, friends
The gospel according to Pat Hewitt
The gospel according to Pat Hewitt
The gospel according to Pat Hewitt
If it's written on a sweater then I'd better not, you do it
Ah
Got to, got to
Your mind, blow it
Blow it
The gospel according to Marianne Brent
The gospel according to Marianne Brent
The gospel according to Marianne Brent
She'll be mine if I pay the rent
Good old Marianne, who needs friends, oh
Waste of flippin' time, take a look at my life and you'll see
Take a quick, butchers, rotten Harry down the hall,
Wouldn't give me tuppence for him

i first read crime in tel aviv, hanging out at a friends in 2008. around me conflict was escalating and it was dangerous to walk around. bombs were falling, suicide bombers were everywhere, bars, clubs and buses were getting blown up, even the shopping mall where i had just bought a very nice pair of italian boots would be hit in a few years by a spate of suicide bombers inspired by the promise of 72 virgins. even a dolphinarium was successfully targeted. so i was kinda going out and about sporadically but also spending a lot of time in cafes reading. i can't recall how i came by the book, i think i found it in one of the hundreds of bookshops hidden in the city, but it was irvine welsh and i was already a huge fan. crime is the first novel with ray lennox as the main character although he has been featured in a previous one, 'filth' as a secondary detective. i remember reading it and being amazed at the story, it was gritty and a crime novel unlike anything welsh had written before. most of it takes place in florida, far away from lieth and edinburgh. i remember the way he conjured florida, and it's people so well. the sun, the women, the seedy under current. it was funny and shocking, the way he described observations and there was dialogue that was perfect. it was an easy read but a complex story and i read it fast.

i picked it up a few days ago and gave it a re-read, planning to read the two sequels 'long knives' and 'resolution' and this time 'crime' is even better than the first. ray is such a wreck of a man, typical protagonist from welsh's cast of corrupted and imperfect character's and it's impossible not to feel a vast amount of sympathy for him and his post traumatic state as he slips back into his flirtations with addictions, escape and death only to find himself in the impossible position of redemption. 

this is terrifying and should bring down the british government.it's a long interview but well worth listening to because you will not see / hear this on any mainstream media, yet. i like andrew gold, he is a great interviewer and heritics has excellent guests.

this reminds me of tommy robertson's stories 15 -20 years ago, and he's a political prisoner rotting in solitary confinement now.

these days when i walk into a book shop there is nothing worth reading, publishers are churning out the equivalent of muzak, it's dire straits, just the typical female, black or minority, lgbqt superficial stories with predictability and one dimensional characters that are so politically correct the novel can only have one outcome. it's dull and boring and very sad. all the books that had an impact upon me, the ones that stood the test of time, the writers that were great and still are, the novels that provoke and stimulate deep thinking would never get published today. people say don't buy from amazon but amazon does stock self published work, novels that are rejected by publishers or that are to controversial for them.  

to get published you need marketing, a team of market researchers who understand genre, who can twist and shape your novel towards a YA market cos that's where the money is, they remove the reality from the novel, the sexism, the racism, the tension and replace it with a more agreeable kind. homophobia or anti male, pro islam (remember all books published about islam have to be approved by the islamic council) and the result is very vanilla, very safe politically correct and mostly lack any meaningful consideration apart from inclusion, diverts and equity, which are great qualities but turned into some sort of weird marxist ideological propaganda. fuck that! 

gimme some truth.

void master. i travel across space time with void technology, some people mistakenly assume it's alien but it's a mental technique i learnt from various occult traditions and ancient practices, a combination of magic and shamanism, plus some quantum thinking. the fact is space and time are the same thing in the same way yin and yang are, polarites cannot exist in this universe independently, it's a duality remember.

once you apply some thinking tools to the mind, the obliteration of single positions in space time surrender to superposition and all you need is to bridge the distance. the bridging comes easy if you accept the idea you can be in two positions at once. it's a lot like dreaming. 

this in all probability is a neat trick but it can only be useful if one can change external outcomes. can i stop hitler being born, no. can i win the lottery, yes. i often do but within the confines of probability, for i win tiny amounts, often never more than i have spent on the tickets but by all accounting it breaks even.

i usually only spend $10 on a ticket weekly, and then after about 6 weeks take them in to see what i win.

on average i win about $50 therefore making a loss off about $10 every 6-7 weeks.

the point is i win, but fine tuning is required to win big.

there is a new aspect to this experiment i am working on, it's something i have never considered before but think will assist with better outcomes. so here we go.