Thursday, August 27, 2015

in the realm of metenoia where everything is beyond intelligencia, the principality of singularity, bone and blood, mind magicks and psychological anarchy unbound. shadow warrior. plato cave, full moon rave, beach tranquility and the mind control of neuroplasticity. keep the eye in the sky, keep the eye on the mind, keep the eye in the try angle, of the angel.
saturation polotik black man smoking big spliff, in a bar 
downtown, words like syrup, falling from fat lips.

'these days it's all secrecy and no privacy, shoot first!'

there were days in old avalon town where i used to go out buy some milk for the family and come home three days later, that's how the life was in them olden days of tangents and tributaries. no one minded as the whole place functioned like that, heading into the village i'd meet keef who would want to talk about something, we would pick up erika and end up smoking a spliff on his boat down at pittwater. erika would get all enthused and wanna go sailing down akuna bay so we would motor off. down akuna we would meet chris and tim on their big yacht, go for a sail out past the island, smoke more weed, watch the sun go down as we moored on some obscure prehistoric secret spot listening to the stones 'black and blue' hanging over the atmosphere like a time travel bubble of a favourite party. in the early morn i'd watch the sun rise and have a swim, maybe read a little. chris would organise some food, and we would feast upon some incredible meal he would rustle up from a few eggs and bread. the sun would sparkle above and we would languid away the timeless space between the ocean and the skies, smoke more weed and someone would invite some girls from a house boat over, the day just melted away. 
on return i'd hop into the supermarket and return to the family, who had also had their own adventure. that was the way it was, no one got uptight with explanations and bullshit, we just had that trust and understanding, avalon man. that's all it was, the nature of the place. 
i liked those years, loved them. but you can't live like that forever and i needed discipline more than anything and when it all came down, everything changed anyway and i moved away. 
there's something about being free, it's an impossible thing to sustain but the secret is knowing when you are not free, because from that point you are halfway there. acknowledgment these days is deceptive, maybe it's getting older or more weary, maybe memory ain't so accurate, maybe i did get in strife for forgetting the milk but for a while there was some kinda magick in the place, it took me places, non rational, non logical, non linear, it all made perfect sense.   

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

the olive branch wilts, the peacekeepers tilt, towards the single point we are all focused upon, a shimmering illusion of rorschach patterns, chaos matrix fundamentals. neurone processors, electrical, chemical, psychological networks infiltrated by chance. the random disorder is just lost information. 
times arrow aims for entropy, our own runs opposite, assembling patterns, looking for clues. the true detective has to throw chance into the mix, i ching is not just divinatory, an engine throbs in the heart of every sky star, a crystal structure in the atom, the jewel is also truth.
     

Friday, August 21, 2015

new day, feeling to good to be true, yeah i pull apart the kitchen cupboards, finding all the ingredients for my favourite cake, and begin to bake in my frenzy of james brown like kitchen madness. this don't happen often so when it does i shift into fifth and put my foot all the way to the metal, blasting simple minds 'big music' doing some majestic kitchen wizardry. it's over real fast as i clean up after myself, cake on the rise i take a break and have a smoke at the spots. then i notice the ceramic stove top is on burning away a small spillage of coconut, date and apple paste. i give it a wipe accidentally smearing it across the surface so out comes my handy spray and wipe, and i blast the area only to be emerged in a cloud of chemicals burning in a foggy haze that i inhale and poison my beautiful clean lungs, heart and blood with. i choke up, gagging and spluttering confusion at my own stupidity. what idiocy, i spend my whole life keeping my body chemical free and in one act of stupidity blow the deal. my final thought before i pass out coughing and choking on poison fumes is what a beautiful cake and i think it's probably the best one i have ever made. 
i gulp down a litre of water, flush my body, clean my teeth but my tongue has swollen up and my mouth is numb, i can't taste anything but some kind of ammonia, it's awful. can't even eat the bloody cake. what a fucking cruel act. that lumberjack cake looks perfect.
struck down by the gut wrenching plague i made my way down to hospital 7 where the local authority were providing vaccinations and antidotes. apparently warnings were everywhere but i don't watch tv and hardly venture out into the city. the government announcements declared not to panic, that it was a curable illness and the health authority would now have the powers of state, and by the way they also were heavily armed.
as i walked through the town i saw the bodies being carted away, hundreds of them and my suspicions kicked in. 
an official in clinical white spacesuit type clothing confided in me the whole thing was sponsored by the united nations under the population control programs. they were tired of subtle attempts and were now just using chemical warfare through various chemtrails, i asked him about the antidote and he just shook his head sadly.
outside the hospital armed guards stood and from a distance i noticed hordes of people queuing up to enter but none exiting. i felt a wave of nausea and smoked a quick joint. 
i wandered around the back of the hospital where the trucks all lined up, large military black trucks shunting of corpses.
a doctor walked passed as i hid behind the wall, i followed him along an outdoor corridor that eventually led to a quadrangle of grass. he sat down on one of four benches and began to cry, sobbing into his white coat. 
as i approached he must have sensed me and turned around shielding his face.
'it's okay, i', not going to hurt you.'
'who are you?'
'i'm just a civilian, one of the people. doctor, what is going on?'
'it's population control, we have a quota. it's fucking impossibly large.'
'the un?'
'yeah, the un.'
'is there a cure for this?'
'cure! are you fucking mad?'
i looked at him, young man, probably in his mid thirties, he looked tired. defeated.
'yeah cure. for what i have, this gut bug thing.'
'there is no fucking cure, just like there is no virus. it's all mass hypnosis, chemtrails are not fucking real, don't you get it. you just believe it to be and your mind does the rest, it's all psychosomatic. we ran the campaign so successfully everyone made themselves sick. there is no virus so there's no cure. if you don't die from the believe you get to the hospital where we finish you off.'
'i saw the trucks.'
'that's nothing, it's going to take six months. a third of the population, that's global. we have only just started.'
i sat down with him, offered him a joint.
'what are you going to do?'
'i have to get back to the hospital, they will start asking questions otherwise. i have to go kill people. but if i were you, i'd get the hell away from here as possible.'
'i'll warn as many as possible.'
'they won't listen. the mind control program is to good. even you won't listen really, i'm wasting my time.'
he stood up and walked away with me shouting out, 'i hear you, i'm listening but it's difficult to believe such a thing is possible.'
i stood up and began to follow him but my guts ached and i felt my chest seize up with pain, air become restricted, lungs attempting to suck in some air. a warmth came over my whole body and i found myself quite unable to move. how had this negative placebo become so powerful. fear, i pondered, kept in fear, anxiety and a state of stress we believe anything from any authority, even if we know it kills us.
the world started to swirl around me, and i felt my eyes were about to burn, the wrenching plague was upon me. 


Monday, August 17, 2015

here i am at the golden dawn, substantiated in immaculate light, these moments only caught by the early birds of the town, fishermen, swimmers, dog walkers and joggers. we are blessed in light like this, filtering down through some miraculous engineering. how can people not believe in a creator of this, an invention of pure bliss, why does it appear beautiful and spiritual, fill the heart with something more than reality tv, why is it that the incredible perfection of the wave and shells have more meaning than going to the bank. why indeed?
because it's real.
and mornings, dusk and moments of peace are when the real shines through, fracturing the stupid mess of politics, religion and stupidity, presenting clarity like charity upon the unwashed dazed and confused.
there's an edge in the air, a fatal factor that forbids me to enter the water, it's a strange fear boundary i have always had, the cold, but it's almost time for it to change as spring turns.
i begin with a huge house clean, mopping, dusting, wiping and sorting. mission control is looking better but it sure could use a paint job. 

Thursday, August 13, 2015

my book's out now, you can order a hardcopy from amazon, it's packed with 50 stories all true. there's lots of fucking stuff in each story, spiritual truth and rambling narratives of space time and mind. if you like hunter s thompson, william burroughs, william gibson crossed with some classic pulp science fiction i'd invest in a copy now. or e mail me your details and i'll send you a copy with an inscription. they cost $20 and that includes postage or $15 plus postage from amazon.
i have to thank tanya for reading through the final edit, and none of this would be possible without tez and jean my friends from brighton who really put it all together. 

http://www.amazon.com/Adventures-Captain-Mission-One/dp/1514277530/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1439436168&sr=1-1&keywords=the+adventures+of+captain+mission

Sunday, August 09, 2015

city streets are busy with some running ceremony, joggers snorting like horses as i brush past them on my mission. 'city to surf' makes no sense to me on my opposite trajectory. i'm travelling from the surf into the metropolis looking for two books that popped up on my radar. 
i grab them from the jap bookshop and a copy of 'slow bullets' alastair reynolds new book 'slow bullets' from galaxy and jump back on the train. i have my head buried in the final pages of my novel when a guy called adam introduces himself. 
'you look switched on, ' he says in a strong germanic accent.
'positively,' i say. 
i deduce from his general demeanour that he is indeed a time travelling anarchist, he's wearing clothes that are from another century and has that mad glow in his eyes that only prophets, born again christians and time travelling anarchists have.
anyway i settle down in the train to hear what he has to say, apart from complementing me in my sunglasses he seems to think i should pass a message on. he's quite intelligent and i kinda like the fact he has also embraced some contemporary music.
'what ya listening to?' i point at his i phone.
'shriekback, english band from the eighties, still pumping them out.'
'ah yeah, i like them to. saw them in london and i saw barry when he played in xtc.'
'okay that's impressive. i knew i chose the right man.'
'for what exactly?'
'well you gotta get the word out there mission.'
'what word and how did you know my name.'
'i know far more than i should, it's true. now i heard you wrote a blog, and sometimes i even read it.'
i'm surprised, i didn't know people read my blog, i know a few people say they have heard of it but i never think that they actually read it. so i sit back and relax in the chair, the city seems to pass very slowly.
'the message is this...'
i raise my hand. i know what your message is, i know everything about you,'
'i'm impressed.'
'it's a shame man, your message was stolen by a guy called marx and made famous by his work in which there is no reference to you.'
'yeah plagiarism, he took my ideas and wrote that wretched book.'
'das kapital.' 
'yep, but it's a perversion of my idea.'
'yeah and yours was a perversion of something else.'
'are you suggesting i stole the idea.'
'no, it did originate well before you, i think you can follow it all the way back, all the way to solomon.'
'okay, i'm offended. i'm getting off here, next stop.'
'hey, you said i was switched on adam.'
'illuminated indeed. see ya mission. i'm heading back to bavaria.'







Saturday, August 08, 2015

outtakes from the rolling stones

contemplating nothingness can sometimes be a good tactic, magickally speaking. the idea of creating a space is not new age but old age, it's what's necessary before manifestation so these last days of winter i am living in a space, nothingness, no ideas, thoughts stay, all pass through in a procession that amuses and bemuses, and like all things in space, nature arbours a vacuum so my space is filled with the people who enter. one a particularly nice guy reminds me about community and belonging. 
let's face it, after 40 years of social work i'm not a community guy. the less i have to do with people the more content i am. if i wanted community i'd be a socialist or communist but those days are well and truly dead and buried. 
community through like minded people would just find me stagnating, there are no like minds apart from those whom seem to grok what i am all about. these people are far and few between so consider yourself special. 
there's religious / spiritual community and i would find that so primitive, i know God loves me and she loves me, so why would i need to display that with a whole bunch of people other than dancing with joy at the sun sinking over the horizon or rising.
me i take my sacramental medicine, i have my hymns, i require no affirmation or feedback from anyone really although i'm a listener and i will always listen.
work stuff swirls around me like a storm, i have no idea what's happening there anymore, it appears that now everyone is squabbling and fighting amongst themselves, i watch and remain vigilant to the tides of discontent.
in my space falls boxes, books, music and some ideas. 
currently listening to the brand new kennedy kilbey release, 'inside we are the same' and it's excellent as expected, the more rock orientated songs are amazing. these guys have something special happening. i listen to shreikback in the car wowing me with clever rhythms and wordsmith - ism.
i even listened to led zepplin which i have acquired a late life appreciation for, my punk days seemed to keep them at bay. great band though and clever players, john bonham wow!
i get robert plant, his voice is pretty slick, i don't know how he does it, keeps it shifting gear on the beat all the time. is it feel or practice?
books, wow, i'm reading some stuff about the essenses, and the templars, the essenes keep writing to me, they want me to join their cult or whatever they have. 'i am part essene' i say, an original but they ignore my disclosure. yeah john the baptist jesus and captain mission.
i'm writing something about the 'book of the dead.' it's pretty out there.




Friday, August 07, 2015

morning at terrible beach, i'm gene sequencing my capacity to become aquatic. the surf is gentle, no power in the wave but it's a beautiful form and i'm appreciating it's aesthetic as negative ions magnetise themselves to my skin. the levels of perception shift and someone mentions sharks.
i no longer really fear them, i don't not fear them, it's an indifference despite recent attacks, i've had worse experience with people, sharks have mostly left me alone. if they are in the water and feel like they need to bite me, i think they will be disappointed, years of alkaline diet has changed my chemistry, i don't think they would feel particularly driven to devour a life form that tastes of powerful plant medicines. 
maybe i am the fool, i should design the surfers pack, stepping into the surf despite the shark in the water tugging at his leg rope. the fool has no attachments to mental fears or physical for these are generated by our perception of death being irreconcilable. maybe i'm being pretentious here, i would panic if i saw a shark in the water near me, but in the cosmic stream it's not that significant. besides in the tarot one single card is defined often by those that surround it.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

captain mission


background notes-  about a year ago i had to get all proactive and have my manager removed for being abusive and assaultive, for basically sabotage and undermining all my work and making my clients unsafe in their own home and live in fear. she was a bully and she actually beat one up. she had got away with this and many other various actions for a long time and one day after listening to my clients talking about their feelings towards her i decided to do something. 
the dept. is a massive slow moving lumbering machine, filled with ego's, bullies and thugs who run a protection racket for one another in middle management so i knew it was going to be hard. however i planned my case carefully and eventually an external investigator concluded she must be removed and then sued by the dept. who employed her. 
while the investigation went on she was transferred to a different area of the dept, and my unit knew a awesome kind of happiness and glasnost type era. 
it was joyful period, these guys really came out from their shells and started to bloom. i knew i had done the right thing.
1 year later -
just before i left for europe i said to the managers up there in their ivory tower, 'the clients are really happy at the moment, please don't change anything.'
the day after i left for my overseas trip they reinstated the abusive manager, promoted her albeit to a different area and got her close friend in as our new manager. 
the new manager and her conspired against me.
when i returned after two months away, not only was i shocked to discover these events, i was also told my shifts / roster had changed radically, and my first day back i was told to scrub the walls instead of attend a meeting. now, i don't mind scrubbing walls, i don't give a toss but that's not my job and i knew that this was the payback from above for notifying one of their own. it was the punishment, especially the roster which was illegal.
when i confronted the new manager about the new roster i was told it would not change. she changed it for other people on the team taking into consideration all their needs but not mine. so i informed her that my roster was actually illegal, it did not give me adequate days off between shifts. she ignored it...

today - i go into the meeting, all the team and all the managers, and i'm running late as i have to stop off at a clients psychiatrist to discuss some issue so they are all waiting for me to arrive. when i walk in they are all angry, 'why are you late, blah blah blah.'
when i tell them i was working, in my own time, off the clock as i don't get rostered the right hours to manage my client they quickly shut up.
i was feeling supremely confident because like i said earlier i had one immaculate move left and i was about to play it.
when we get to discussing the roster i am asked my opinion, so i say, 'it really feels like you are punishing me through the roster because i notified an abuse by one of your managers. truth is, i would do it again. if someone wants to abuse our clients i will do whatever i can to expose them. but it's obvious you people don't like it, you want payback, revenge. i understand you want to punish me, so i'll take the punishment but seeing as though this is the consequence of my actions i'm going to have to look at it from an occupational health and safety perspective. so i will file a report that says, staff who report abuse through the notification system set up by the ombudsman will be punished for it.'

i pull out the completed form and walk towards the fax machine. every one there knows the ombudsmen would receive a copy.
well, you should have seen them falling over one another to stop me, almost like something cartoon. i turned and very clearly said, 'change my fucking roster so it's legal and leave me alone.'

so i'm feeling pretty fucking good about myself. yeah, i told ya it was an ace.


Tuesday, August 04, 2015

today is another day but different, it's damper and colder and makes me feel lonely. but it also gives me some preparation time for the showdown i have to confront at work, the one where yet again i have to tell everyone from management how to do their jobs. the one where i play my ace card, it is an ace card, it's fucking brilliant ace and maybe after it's played i can tell you how i did it. it's not war but needs to be treated like warfare. it's not a place where strength matters because the people who assume they are in powerful positions can only be floored by one thing. intelligence stumps them, people who intellectually and with style, not just ego but the flourish of spiritual war, can confront them into submission. they have no policy or procedure to fall back upon, because they have never met someone like me. i say this after 40 years experience as a social worker type in a country where they really are very primitive in thought and thinking. i will win and i will file my report as soon as i can get back here.  

Monday, August 03, 2015

ghost dog and me wander the streets of terrible beach before the civilian population arise from their slumber, the sun rising over the ocean. it's a vast still expanse, a slumbering mass and i feel the pull, i can feel it tug at my cells, every atom that my body contains ghost dog likes the sand, i like the water.
all my life i felt this pull, from my early days at skool maths, gazing out the windows into grey london skies while the education  system droned on. i never learnt anything in that place, only how to use my imagination and escape the hellish place, somewhere warmer, somewhere with a beach and blue skies, some where like terrible beach.
ghost dog and i.

Sunday, August 02, 2015

drive home into dawn, on my right the magnificent coastal sun exploding over the horizon in it's cosmic dance, water blooms cascade light and you get the idea of divinity, you know this greatness, awesome and not indifferent. it's there to be praised and loved, appreciated and observed. my eye takes in the command, the whole world is a burning bush, aflame with it's quantum intelligence and life. 
on the other side a wall of red rock, ancient and majestic, holding the power of time. the things held within, trapped in their infinitely small motions, atoms like memory, captain fission, mission...
some one asked me yesterday, what is your mission?
i was quite and held myself in check, my mission is like the chaos star, it reaches out into so many layers, so many dimensions, it's to do nothing, change everything, it's to destroy and create, it's to see with my eye fire vision, to know gods, and God, to make love to the goddess and fuck her, it's to radiate and absorb, it's to forget and recall, it's to be the fool and the magickian, to be the universe in a grain of sand. my mission is unknowable, and unending, it defies all codex, it just is what it is and isn't.
i wanted to look into her eyes and tell her all this but instead i said nothing, i can't go around answering questions like this when people ask, can i?
the force of nature makes me infinitesimal, obliterated from matter, yet very much part of it. not a tiny cog but a huge great big massive engine of change, an agent writing my report.
captain mission, peace out.   

Friday, July 31, 2015



early morning terrible beach, the surface of the ocean is blue glass, still like the day comes running to a standstill. i park up and watch the seven seas in my head calm, take some deep breathes, negative ions jump around me, like the mosh pit peoples. i embrace the energy and orient myself. it's been a while. 


Thursday, July 30, 2015

feeling better today as the sunlight streams through mission control and the birds fly across the garden making their happy sounds. ah yes, getting my groove back, with a freshly cleaned pond, my garden looking somewhat battered but wild and sexy, my hair growing longer and competing with the garden, people in the streets looking at me as i shuffle past them with my salads and mexicana stuff. what's going down?
gotta adapt, something i guess i do well, adapt to conditions and enviroment. i was behind that ball early on in the game. 
australia is in turmoil after it's australian of the year, it's indigenous football star has been booed by crowds after he gets the ball in his footy matches, something i know zero about. apparently people are racist when they boo him, although i defer my opinion. i think this is something else other than racism, it's much more complex as adam did pull a 13 year old girl out from a crowd during a match and had her removed for calling him an 'ape' during a match. 
i dunno, her face became the face of australian racism and i figure from a social workers point of view 13 year olds don't need that kind of exposure, yeah she was dumb and ignorant but adam would have done better to pick an adult. the booing started then and adam responds by some aboriginal wardance thing directed at the crowds. mmm,the crowds may be dumb morons but it is sports and that's the bottom line. however for the media to call this racism is stupid and reflective of the type of media we have here. dumbed down, politically correct and agenda driven.
no other aboriginal player gets booed and what do you call the aboriginal supporters whom boo adam, racist. nope that don't work.  
there is no doubt elements of racism has crept into this but the debate is so one sided, and it's distracting from the real victims of racism. adam has led a privileged life, able to speak from a position people listen therefore he needs to be nuanced in his approach not divisive. however when you put thousands of people in a sporty type event and criticise them for booing, i think you have to have rocks in your head. how can you police that? 
i think people in australia are very racist, in fact it's one of the dumbest countries i've lived in, everything dumbed down to it's black or white and the media here don't help. you are either one side or the other. people need to get a wider perspective before they take a side. the racist people i encounter are usually very intelligent, hold positions of power, usually stereotype people or patronise. my way of dealing with it is to mentally out wit them, i know i'm never going to change their thinking, the neural network is calcified when it comes to racism. maybe everyone is racist and that's just the nature of us. maybe the smart thing to do is just accept that instead of forcing some kind of weird artificial harmony upon us. let people think what they want, let people say what they want, but actions should carry certain responsibilities and consequences. if people accept what they hear, or read as gospel some internet meme then that's their issue. i like to hear the other side and investigate, draw my own conclusion and be open to the possibility i may be wrong. i'm not attached to being right. 
my friend james pointed a few facts out to me about the adam case which makes me even more uncertain, but one thing we agree on the media and the afl are to blame more so than adam should be, he's just as much a victim as the young girl.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

where else on earth can you beat up people, abuse your staff, come to work on ecstasy and leave someone drowning in a running bathtub while going off for a drive, where else can you feed someone bread and water for dinner, forget their birthday, run a food budget for $5 a day while you get to eat up big time for free. where else can you leave people laying in a pool of piss, take them to macdonalds and call it community access, where else can the ohs panel ignore serious abuse of clients and staff while spending two hours discussing a nail that needs removing from a fence. where else does the management protect those that betray their position and demonise the people that expose this. where else can the perpetrators enjoy protected status and promotion through the ranks while their exposers are targeted and bullied through rostering and salary adjustment?
where can people sit down in front of tv watch sports all shift while clients lay in their rooms bored out of their skulls, where else can i be transferred because i get on to well with clients i support.
where?
why family and community services of course where i have the prestigious title of being called a trouble maker and you know what? i'm so proud they call me that. i'm so very proud that these morons hate me for exposing their corrupt little lifestyle careers as i stand up for the people we are supposed to be helping. they never met anyone like me. i refuse to play charades with them and they loathe me, and the more they try to fuck me over the stronger i feel. 
one day someone will hear the story of the reoccurring issues of mis management, deceit and corruption that make up the public service. one day people will understand the real deficit in australia is not financial, it's in management skills and i am currently surrounded by weak little power crazed idiots who are so tiny minded they think they are beyond justice, remove them and you would have an efficient system. it's coming, one way or another FACS, i'm coming for you. 

Saturday, July 18, 2015

my friend kate away texts me from some blue mountain retreat, 'david bowie day on rage' so i flick on the tube and catch a few classics before work. later i tune in to the abc 24 channel and watch a bowie documentary, it's an australian one so it's a bit dodgy, i mean they wheel out these people who reel out the cliques, oh yeah characters, costumes, orange hair, collaborations with queen. come on, i think, what about the song-writing and music. but then they speak about the 'bowie is' exhibition in melby and i start to tune out. later in the same show a bloke called james valantine is in a pub talking to two art philanthropists about the australian art scene.
'it's filled with fat bureaucracy, to many politics, no real vision, no real investment in arts, they don't like innovation, it's a closed shop. full of mid level managers with no imagination.'
hello! that's exactly what i wrote yesterday. i like it when i feel validated, it makes me feel err... normal. 
by the way, if you are in oz and reading this go see the bowie is exhibition, if it's anything like the london one you will love it. 
obviously i can't fight a whole massive govt. body, i'm accepting that, and also that the culture of australia is based around the opposite of innovation. it's inherent in the actual people who seem to be corrupt on some level within themselves. no ones perfect granted but there is a strange anomaly here and i wouldn't be the first to notice it. it exists everywhere, i know that and is not just limited to these antipodal shores. however compared to scandinavia and canada it does appear somewhat magnified.
institutionalised thinking creates a kind of stagnation, a rot sets in and any change becomes impossible, australians being nervous around black people are highly agitated around smart ones. and the worst kind are ones that are fearless in their critique of the establishment. over in oz i'm considered black, in europe people don't even categorise me into race, i'm just accepted as a person. 
is it just a racial thing, no i don't think so. it's far deeper than that, maybe going back to the days of a convict settlement, the fact that even today australia holds up its criminals in more esteem than its artists and creatives. it celebrates it's murderers, bank robbers and serial killers to the point where they would get their own chat shows or mini series. there's a thin line between the police and the criminal element, the two are entwined to the point they are indistinguishable in manner, sometimes even the criminal has more sophistication than the average policeman whom in entering a govt body that already owns his balls and has them over a slow fire, has no choice but to comply. 
all govt. bodies work this way, they maintain a status quo and woe be-tied anyone who attempts to challenge it, innovators, are the enemy, especially the dark ones who are to smart for their own good.
so i have to accept the obvious, it's hard. but i have to. and i have to also adapt for this is what is required more than anything for me to survive. 

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

the cold penetrates like old invaders from the northlands, striking fear and tension into the subdued flesh. i am so lazy in my languid way, zapped of all motivation for all things, can't read, can't write, can't speak. even thinking faculties are slowed down tortoise speed. i recall many years ago watching the shadows drift across a wall in glebe, all day spent perceiving the geometry of shadows as they articulate their way across existence never seen or observed unless one is in the slow time of depression or melancholia. of course those days i was filled with regret and sorrow. now i am just tired and cold and maybe old. like the shadows it will pass.

Monday, July 13, 2015

back where it all started the ouroboros of the mind, a pattern of unending significance as skins are shed and faces worn. the trail of time in life, a serpent eats its own tail. from seed to death see the strange pathway, chrysalis psychology on it's evolutionary manifestation. going this way and then that, one moment you are floating through zen peace with monks, the next in a seedy motel snorting lines with a dark blue skinned vampyre, all things being equal it's neither a bad life nor good.
someone knocks at the door and the party stops suddenly, it's the nova kid and his posse of wild boys breaking down the door, it's the heat from the stars, some intergalactic task force hunting you down for the code wars. you snort a quick line and clamber out the window, the vampyre moves fast, she's everywhere, a visual blurring of decisive action. 
on the streets you push through the crowds, neon rain falls as a multitude of advertisements lights up the skies like a technicolour ocean, social commentary from the controllers. the stink of cooked beasts hangs in the air as venders sell all manner of cooked flesh. you see some people eating insects from small paper cups, it's repulsive but you are curious.
'what are they eating' you ask.
'gras opper, eet is flied en see see me. vant to try?
i look at the vampyre, 'let's go to a bar.'
'i need to feed, she says,'i av de thirst.'
she pulls me down a flight of steps into another crowd. music pumps out and the atmosphere is filled with thick cigar smoke and pheromones. she leads me towards the bar and speaks to a barmaid in spanish or portuguese, they seem to share a joke and the barmaid points into a crowd of men. 
'i av orr derr ed you drink, stay, vait for me. i go feed.'
she disappears into the crowd.
i've finished my dark and stormy, standing there waiting to catch someone's attention when she returns from the cloud of haze, a glorious stride of confidence and certainty.
she smiles at me.
i catch a glimpse of her blood stained teeth and pass her a paper tissue. she daintily wipes her mouth and licks her lips, her face is flushed and her eyes sparkle with some kind of frenetic energy that surges through her body. 
we drink a few more dark and stormy's, although alcohol is not our choice of stimulants it does help us blend in, it takes the edge off the coke.
some more people come crashing in, the place becomes hotter as though someone turned the heat up full whack, more smoke fills the atmosphere, the stench of humanity in full hedonistic mode. 
a tall woman in a red dress bats her eyes at me, i can't help but smile back. she orders a drink and turns to face me.
'are you with her?'
the emphasis on the with not the her.
i shake my head, 'she is with me.'
'come,' she commands, 'both of you.'
we wander along a red plushed corridor down steps towards the bathrooms she pushes open a door and we all stand around in the marble elegance and velvet opulence. 
she's chopping up some powder, it's not coke i can tell as the colour is slightly purple and there are glittering crystals in the mix.
she's done this before, a gold credit card moves like a conductors baton through the air as the powder forms a small cloud, the dust twinkles in the strange ambient light.
finally three long lines on the benchtop all equal in length and size.
she offers me a rolled note and i nod approval, it hits my brain instantly, like a cold shower inside my skull. i'm immediately shocked but almost before shock registered a warm euphoric wave overwhelms me, it's sensual and intelligent. my spine straightens and my brain seems to kick start. immediately i notice  details, the lips of our new friend, the curve of her body, the soft scent, erotic and exotic. 
the vampyre took her line and smiled, 'is good, vat is dis.'
now it's the lady in the red dresses turn, she turns her face towards the powder and delicately places a gold tube into her nose. she does this exceptionally efficiently, the line of dust disappears consistently and when it's gone she turns her head towards the vampyre and stands up to look in her face.
'it's called many things, i use the generic term lust dust the anterians call it charm.' 
suddenly i wonder if my cover is blown, does she know who i am, is she undercover nova. the charm counters any paranoia quickly, in fact i just want to kiss her but instincts hold me back and then the vampyre steps between us. 
i start backing away slowly uncertain if my instincts have been compromised.
the girls are kissing, i catch a glimpse of the vampyres teeth in the mirror as i slip through the door. i run back, push my way through the crowd and back up the steps onto main street which swirls around me like a wheel of fortune. i gasp for clean air and look up towards the stars but there is nothing but neon, buildings and sky ways. 
my options are limited, there's no way i can get off world from the cities spaceport, there's no way i can use any public transport. the only escape route is to get a lift or stowaway upon a private ship or reconnect with the vampyre she's loyal and connected, so i head towards our meet point.

the citadel is made from neon plasma polyp, a hybrid of coral and plant dna, it's almost crystalline in structure and so high the upper floors are above the clouds, almost outside the atmosphere. oxygen is pumped into the upper levels as the air is so thin, there's an observation deck encased in a transparent dome that swings 360 degrees right at the top, our meet point. 

the security is easy to beat, i use the charm, plant a few suggestions and sweet talk my way inside past the two guardians. even the computer system falls under my spell as i soft wire its interface with a smart code.
the lift travels at 100ks an hour, it takes two hours to reach the o - deck and as i unstrap myself it's hydraulics kick in, a soft hiss of compressed air and suddenly the door opens.
a cold oxygen rich blast is the first thing you notice then the stars. i can make out the omega 3 quadrant, i follow cassiopea to rigel six and then see the nova planet by following a line north.
that's where it all went down, my home antaries.
i check the time, three hours until sunrise, which gives her one and a half hours to get here. 
there's no one note-worthy up here, a few casual romantics and a few interplanetary tourists. i edge my way to the acrylic window and look down at the polyp structure disappearing below me, spreading out into it's various branches and sub levels. the charms beginning to wear off, i feel the anxiety creeping into my bones.
as i turn back a flock of wings swoop towards me, hundreds of tiny bats, i can make out their sharp teeth and wings, their claws and penetrating eyes, they implode inwards and i react by pulling away shielding my face, waiting for impact. when i remove my arm from my face. she is standing before me.
'my captain,' she whispers.
'we need to leave. suns up in a few hours. tomorrow night we can think about getting off this rock.'
the ride down is almost in silence, i don't ask her about the girl i left her with, i know. 
police are everywhere, the streets swarm with operatives, they think they blend in discretely but we can spot them. every time they come for us we know, the vampyre sniffs them out, she has acute sensory abilities but the novas will learn soon and disguise their scents with chemical tracers. we both know we have to move fast but there's short time for a quick embrace.

there's a slow time now, headlong into dawn, we move through the streets still teaming with the hordes of party goers, mostly all chasing some dragon.

the bunker is secreted away in the city, a few levels down, an old underground shelter, re enforced walls and shock wave proof shell of a basement warehouse secreted away from the surface. it's accessed through a small mechanical elevator. the decent is bumpy and noisy but she makes it in time, i check the clocks, the sun would be out in a few moments. the rattling metal doors clank open revealing the interior to be slightly reminiscent of the french style back on the original earth.

the red commissionaire paces his office, he's been awake for hours coordinating the search, monitoring the transmissions and data feeds. 

his team had failed him, they had taken up the chase and lost mission and the whore somewhere outside that hotel they were in. the nova mob were on his back, he hated interplanetary opps but these nova shits were breaking his balls, putting the squeeze on him and his whole dept. the last thing he needed was them finding out his men had blown it and lost the trail.
so far he had managed to keep them off world but they were close at hand, orbiting in that fucking stealth ship, handing down orders like some divine authority. why had the minister capitulated, they were supposed to be independent. 
his com - unit buzzed, he stopped pacing and sat at the desk, he took a deep breath and answered.
his secretary put through the minister.
'i need an update.'
'we lost them, we got close and lost them.'
the defeat was in his voice, hard to disguise. it was pointless fighting the inevitable.
'these nova bastards will be landing about now.'
'do we...'
the minister cut him off, 'i have no choice, i kept the wolves at bay as long as i could. you better comply commissionaire, give them whatever they need. let them catch these fugitives and leave us. i hope i never have to deal with them again.'
the door swung open, two men in black skin suits marched in followed by his protesting secretary. still holding the com he waved her out.
he stood up to greet the novas but one of them pushed him back onto his seat.

i smoked a joint while the vampyre slept, sunset in thirty minutes. time for a shower, change of clothes and a new battle plan. 

we wander out in the early night time, shifting sideways through the shadows, the cityscape looms in all directions, a vast maze of structural ingenuity, part organic, part synthetic, where space allows you always catch a glimpse of the citadel towering up penetrating through the clouds.
uniforms are everywhere, police cars swarm the roads. i ponder the safety of being overground but the vampyre has an escape route and leads me towards the monorail that weaves around the cities architecture like a sleeping serpent.

nova prime watched the screen as surveillance footage of the citadels lookout platforms flashed by. the screen showed a grainy image of a flock of black shapes being sucked into form, a body.

'that's her, the woman. we can trace her movements to here,' the images flash forwards to the monorail snaking it's way through the city, two figures jumping down onto it from a low bridge, 'she's with him.'
'the live feed will show us all their movements, i have two satellites in place and a squad of our men ready to move.'
'let's see where they run to, i'll have my men waiting on hand.'

the problems were diminishing, we were in transit, on the m rail our only problem would be leaving it but the vampyre seemed to be confident she could get me out of the terminal. she was gazing out the window, looking down at the city below. we were high up, in a silent vacuum sealed environment, we leaned back and enjoyed the peace, our heads turned towards one another. 

i watched her eyes, cobalt blue. her face looked almost human, except for the dark bluish sheen of her skin.
we were a strange couple, me dishevelled fugitive and her. i cast my mind back to our first encounter....

'vake up mission, diz situation iz critical.'

i tried to speak but she clasped her hand over my mouth, 've must leave the carriage soon, but you must not speak words now. eye's ears everywhere.'
i nodded and we wandered along the carriage trying to look inconspicuous. 
every carriage had a vacuum sealed escape door, once opened it would send an alert but she was opening all of them as we pushed our way forwards through the interior. passengers jumped up protesting but then sat down again as they met her stare. a guard ran towards us but once he saw her fangs backed off, he was talking into a small monitor on his lapel, time was trickling away. 
'dis one,' she shouted as the wind blasted out her words, i felt something grab me and push me through the door, my eye's indistinctly closed and when i opened them i was free falling, the monorail was continuing its journey and getting further away from me in all dimensions. 
i grabbed a mouthful of air and trying to orient myself, my eyes darting here and there for the vampyre but the skies were empty, my mind panicked and the last thoughts that flashed through my mind were of the oceans of earth, the beautiful waves. i blacked out.

the nova prime watched the feed screens, a neon lit sky and the strange black shape of a falling man at terminal velocity. his men couldn't intersect fast enough. the mission was over, the target would be dead before he hit the surface, he had failed. he switched the screens off and relayed a final message.

'get the body and lets get off this planet.'

the bats clutch at the body, they were struggling with the weight but managed to keep it from impact. it now moved horizontally parallel to the surface, weaving through the skyscrapers and following a cryptic path through a maze of neon, plasmic brick and polyp. some of the buildings had a iridescence about them, the polyp coral gene luminosity spliced dna was an artistic expression made practical, an obscure art form gone mainstream.

the vampyre remembered when she was human, an eon ago it seemed, yet it was relatively recent. she had travelled alone for many years until she found the captain. she liked his indifference at her, she liked his detachment and the way he never judged her for what she was, he was the only one who just accepted her nature and for that she never killed him, in fact she stuck with him.
now both of them were being hunted by the nova police. she was an accessory to his crime but now she was an accomplice.
the captain had embedded a sigil inside a book, it was written in plain earth english and appeared as a simple collection of short stories. each story an element of a whole, as the reader read the book the intention was released inside the reader's subconscious. the idea was far to powerful to have floating unrestrained and uncensored out in the universe, and the nova police controlled all consciousness. despite the illusion of freedom everything, every thought was finely controlled. 

it started with the rise of technology back in the 2000's as a generation grew up and away from the generation previous. where their parents played free and wild, in the countryside, cities, communities free from fear a generation of parents started adopting new societal norms. the imposition of restrictions, watchful eyes and community values, the newspeak of orwell, false compassion as political emotive stings were pulled, the rise of conspiracy theory, the end of independent critical analysis. 

one generation were allowed and encouraged to go out, explore, use their imagination and develop their own ideas while the next generation were thwarted by various perceptions of danger. this generation instead took to internet communities and games, built their own adventures and explored online while under the all seeing gaze of web nannies and protective parents. the one aspect that the users couldn't critically think through was these online contents were the invention of someone else. while they thought they were playing free they were not at all, they were in the parameters that some one else had set, there were rules that confined them. fast forwards a few generations the parameters were even more controlled, and the idea of original creativity through imagination was not even a myth, peoples brains had become calcified, neural networks and pathways re routed and controlled from a distance. everything was ordered, nothing random, chaos was outlawed and banished from the mind, even the recreational drugs were inhibitors, dumb drugs designed for dopamine response rather than tryptamine. 
the nova police control the imagination, they police the galaxy and captain mission had broken their codes, hacked their net and placed a trans dimensional virus deep within. the sigil was an ancient one, misunderstood, misrepresented and feared through ignorance. 

she had to get him off world and there was only one way to do it but there was a risk, a big one.

       
the early decades of the internet were innocuous enough, most people played on google and assumed the world wide web was it. however the world wide web was only just the layer, in wise circles it was just called the surface net because 98% of the web lay underneath in two sub categories. first was the deep web which was the landscape of the academics, military and research facilities. it was harmless enough and filled with papers that most people wouldn't understand but below this was the dark web, domain of the nefarious. assassins, dealers, illegal pornographers, occult and various questionable practices. here users could navigate this area inconspicuously and freely, thus escaping controls and law enforcement by using proxy software.
after the discovery of wormhole technology the interplanetary web was established and the nova police attempted to control the deep and dark net, forcing a new level of use. the ether web.
mission was an early user, heightened psychic abilities, paranormal awareness, and esoteric discipline had made him a perfect portal for the ether web, and he had started to infiltrate the layers above with the provocative sigil embedded in his stories.

mostly people on the surface reacted by repulsion, aversion or fear, it was an an ancient image that had many connotations depending on the observer's brain and conditioning. as a model it transcended all religion and political ideology and contained spiritual knowledge of liberation thus powered and supported by the fundamental laws of the universe. the nova police began shutting down the sites and the people that had become activated but they really wanted the source, they had chased him through wormhole after wormhole and now they were closing in.

the wings fluttered to a halt, and the hundreds of tiny bats imploded into human form, the skin bled back to a dark olive shade and the vampyre took a violent breath through her nostrils, and then slowly out through her mouth as she assumed her form.

they were outside the illegal laboratory of dr. ossmand sparse, eminent quantum physicist, splice bio technician and all round general psychopath, some said he was a genius in hiding, others said he was the devil himself, but to her he was her father. her creator.


'no body, then they escaped.'

'the camera feeds show the vampyre heading south, out through the warehouse districts, she is in her multiple.'
'warehouse district, let's see who's there they can turn to.'
nova primes face turned towards another screen as he thumbed his way through the data feeds, his team standing by.
'if they want to get off world the warehouse district accommodates pulsar technologies inc, that would be my guess.'
'sir, that stuffs all experimental, almost theoretical. there's no chance they can use it. i don't think there's any hardware or design even.'
'let's go. i'm coming with you this time.'


she pressed the keypad and waited for the doors to slide open, re-enforced polycast, they opened into an airlock and the vampyre propping the captain walked through.

'where are we?
'i'm home, but you are different story captain, i'm sorry. i just ave ran out of options.'
a strange mist filled the room.
'do not panic, this is sterilization process, my father keeps his lab clean and these are a common feature on warehouses built after the nuke attack four years ago downtown. the older buildings don't have them.'
they walked forwards and into another chamber where two s-suits hung waiting.
'get in suit fast, ask no questions, let me do talking.'
i followed her instruction, i was exhausted from running. sooner or later it would come to an end, and sooner was coming faster than i could outrun it.
the workspace was huge, almost cathedral like, massive stained glass windows depicting various iconic horror, inverted pentagrams, demonic faces, unholy symbols and strange beasts or demons, strange scripts ran along the walls etched into the walls, and in one area stood a huge egg sculpture, diagonally across it's twin. 
'it's beautiful,' i thought and wandered across to inspect the designs.

'you have returned daughter,' the voice was deep and rich, carrying an authority and presence that filled the chamber.

'yes.'
'and who is this, a friend or victim?'

i span around and waved at the figure before me, he was huge, a giant of a man but then my brain kicked it, he was encapsulated in an exo skeleton, reinforced alloy with various luminous attachments and accessories trailing on into the background. i realised he was on some sort of life support.

'i am captain mission, it's a pleasure to meet you sir.'
'nonsense, there's never pleasure in meeting me, and call me dr. please, i'm not much for formalities.'
'okay doctor it is.'
'dr. sparse actually, now what can i do for you.'
the vampyre explained the requirements, the doctor listened and occasionally inappropriately laughed but agreed to help. they whispered a little more than i would have liked. dr. sparse disappeared off into a darkened area and the vampyre approached me. i could tell something was wrong from her face. she looked at me and explained.
'i'm sorry, can't get you off world, run out of viable options so i brought you here, to my father. you know ee's considered quite the psychopath, the work ee does is, well let's say is unsavoury for most.'
'what does he do?'
'he creates monsters.'
'that's a subjective term, he created you.'
'yes, and i'm freak. not of nature but of man. my genetic codes were infiltrated and sequenced to configure me, whatever i am, i'm part of a jigsaw puzzle of biology, created by a designer with an gothic imagination and reckless abandon for the sanctity of life. they only let him stay down here because occasionally they get him to do their dirty work. technically he was executed decades ago.'
'why the suit, is something wrong with him.'
'ee's hooked up to a high concentration oxygen, it keeps eem youthful and free from disease, plus the workspace needs to be free from any bacteria, it's got to be sterile.'
'you said there were no more options, where does that leave me?'
'it leaves you here, in my fathers hands. i am very sorry, i just couldn't think of another vay.'
'it's okay, it's fate i guess. let's see what he can do with me.'

time was running out, the pulsar technologies turned up to be a dead end, nothing even remotely suspicious as his men searched the area. nova prime hacked into the energy grid. this was a long shot but if there were any spikes he may have another lead.

he scanned the screen diligently, you don't get to be prime without diligence. 
his men wrapped up their frantic attempts to find any clues, they started approaching nova prime when the first spike revealed itself.
'get an address and let's go.'

the helmet felt like having my head encased in a jelly substance, there was no firmness about it, yet the outer surface was a shiny red metal with a fast burn wire sending signals to the web. the crazy dr. spoke with authority like a shakespearean stage actor, 'now the idea is simple, i extract your consciousness into a coded algorithm, send it into the web, into your own coded stories. it's a meta program, you have placed elements of sigils into your stories that activate components of consciousness within those that read them, now i am merely feeding your consciousness back into them.'

'what happens to my body?'
'you won't need one, you will be everywhere on the net anyway, able to use whatever systems are available to you, download yourself into replicants, computer systems, any electronic device hooked up to wifi, you can be cross solar systems in no time, a sentient web, i have always wanted to create this. the only way they can kill you is by unplugging the whole thing, and even then you can inhabit the ethernet.'
'you make it sound so simple dr. why are you helping me?'
'i create new life, some say i am a psychopath, out of control, a dr. frankenstein, i created my daughter a vampyre. i made her from human dna spliced with bat and some artificial code, she needs blood to live as her body cannot create it, instead she feeds on the living. some say she is a monster, some say i am the monster, but to me she is my daughter, just as you will be my son.'
'that's an interesting way of looking at it.'
'i have many children, many. you will be part of an extended family of unique creatures,' he stopped and peered down at me laying upon the slab as he fixed the glowing helmet upon my head and tinkered with the electronics, 'since the wormholes humanity has extended far beyond the reach of our home, we inhabit several planets now and access them all through the worm technology, it's like the early middle centuries of earth as europe extended itself and reached out to the rest of the world.'
'colonised the world, the empire fucked up everything they touched.'
'that's one way to look at it,' he smiled and for the first time i saw the psychopath. 'they brought progress with them, science, technology and ....'
'cholera, spanish flu, slavery, domination, guns, gunpowder, mining, exploitation...'
'we can argue the benefits and disadvantages of colonization but the fact remains england, france, spain, portugal and the dutch expanded while other countries didn't. why is that?'
'flip the switch doc. i think the history lesson is over.'
as his hand reached over my face, i heard his words, 'they expanded because they were filled with diversity, whereas the other cultures were mono cultures. it is the same now, diversity will explore the frontier and survive, it will dominate the expanse of space and spread, not the nova police. oh, we are almost ready.'
i lay there breathing, the vampyre came and kissed my lips.
'goodbye captain mission, i've enjoyed travelling with you.'
i smiled, 'soon i will be quantum code in some endless ocean of information.'
'you already are, as we all are mission.'
i closed my eyes as the dr. activated the process. when i opened them i was born into light. it swallowed me until i was nothing, stretching in all directions, a vast cosmic body without boundaries, knowing everything from the atomic structures of every particle in existence from the beginning of time to the future. it was beautiful.


in a slice of time, the doors flew open and a pack of novas in full battle combat marched through, guns in classic formation, arms moving like they were part of a giant multi armed machine.
for a moment the dr. saw something beautiful, a new kind of creature but it was an optical illusion as the strange unit disassembled into mere uniforms one of which marched towards him, weapon pointed firmly at his skull. 
'where is he?'
the dr. moved aside his arm waved towards the bench where a body lay.
'what is that helmet on his head?'
'it's to late, only the body remains.'
they formed a circle around the bench, 'bring him back dr.'
'there is no way to do that now.'
nova primes fist slammed down upon the bench to, 'fuck!'

i watched from a multitude of perspectives, cameras, satellite, head pieces and perceived everything, my old body laying there with the strange helmet as the novas detached it and tore apart the lab. i could see their own systems, read their body scans, monitoring their suits. i could access life support systems. one by one i shut them down until nova prime was left looking panicked.
'what the fuck is going on. what is happening to my team.'
'i'm switching you off nova prime.'
'where are you mission, where the fuck!'
'i am everywhere.'


    















Saturday, July 11, 2015

no time for anything, straight back into the thick and thin of madness as i work for the dept. possibly the most backward thinking organisation one can imagine. man, one day i'd love to write a book about how useless this dept is, how they are run by power crazed bullies only interested in self preservation and covering up their own mistakes. one day i will spill the beans and name the names. tick tock it's only a matter of time. 
australia is so backwards, it's as clear as day, we are stuck in a bubble of 1950's thinking and it will bite us. our traditional industries are digging up earth, all other manufacturing is discouraged. the trade agreements mean we now pay more for australian products than americans pay for australian products. chinese farms buy up australian lands, houses and politicians. this govt is not interested in australians any more than it's rivals, all are bound by global agendas. is there any hope for us. it's depressing man, seeing the fucking idiots in charge making the same stupid mistakes over and over, it's the spin cycle of stupidity. i'm all for spiritual anarchy, rule thyself and be true to that but do not pretend superiority by politic. 

finally i clean mission control, it's reasonably presentable and conducive to create something interesting. my books should be here soon for proof reading, and then i must sell them while writing more.

Monday, July 06, 2015

everyone knows the church has undergone a transformation, the recent absorption of powderfinger's ian haug in lieu of martin wilson piper was greeted with some distain by acolytes of the band, hostility in cyberspace and tensions in the musical world. despite this ian has proven himself equal and as a side effect the band appear to have changed trajectory somewhat. it's a difficult quality to quantify but if you were lucky to catch them live in europe and on friday night at the factory you would know exactly what i mean. 
its very hard for a band to rise from its own ashes, a band that has meant so much to so many. i understand why people resented a change in line up, the church could never be the same without martin. but do we want the church to be the same? sometimes change is a good thing for everyone and on friday the band sounded so vital and fresh, so energetic as they played the whole of the blurred crusade right through from beginning to end. the songs are over 30 years old yet they sounded brand new, the two guitarists completely meshed while tim the barefoot drummer played with the skill and dexterity that has been consistent since he joined the line up. yes, they survived that change and they went on to record and play outstanding music for many years, and now is no different. 
the cold sydney air and bracing winds threw together a sell out crowd jammed into the inner city warehouse, all waiting expectantly as the band began their pre stage rituals. that esoteric music coming through the pa growing louder and louder, strange chanting and deep vibrational tones, the smoke machines kicking in, that powerful blue oceanic light, we waited and waited like soft tropical fish underwater waiting for the full moon to trigger some natural response.
when it happened it was truly miraculous. the first chords of 'almost with you' and the great surge forwards, yes it was happening, it is happening now. effortlessly the band marched through the album, it wasn't until 'just for you' that the magic took hold. yes it was magical, the air electric with the ambience of something very special, steve as usual giving everything, some kind of barrier was penetrated and the audience was won. none of the blurred crusade sounded old, in fact i think they should re release it with a live disc. it was ever more powerful, more intense live than on record. and when it finished steve whispered knowingly, 'wait, there's more. there's always more.'
and there is. for the church have always been very generous to their fans. 
if god sends his angels then we were all blessed with a live version of 'life speeds up' an incredibly compartmentalised tune that sounded so organic and powerful i was knocked out by the way it was played and the inherent power of the song. i think we all were.
20 mins later steve confesses that they will play some of the new cd and some classics. who can argue with that?

'vanishing man' with it's dark lyric contrasting against the love tunes of the blurred crusade, 'delierious' sounding so much better live with it's harmonies and pace changes, 'toy head' oh my god can it get any better?
the church play their new songs with precision and a hint of chaos, steve's base playing always perfectly match his showmanship. rock and roll is all about attitude right? steve projects right in your face, not only the presence of rock but of theatre and dance as he inhabits 'the disillusionist' and takes over the stage. transcendence, such a difficult space to attain but the band open the gates and we flood through on a wave of admiration, devotion and understanding. some things are sacred.
ah but it's only rock and roll they say?
yeah well the rolling stones may say that but they have ever seen the church play. it's not just rock and roll. it's something else. we all slide into whatever it is, poetry, grace, sublimation, whatever you call it, we love it.
'love philtre' divine music, carrying us onwards into new places, more pink floyd than pink floyd, more like a spiritual hymn than pop song. 
'block' was incredible, such a remarkable song preformed with such passion and commitment. this is not music by numbers but by intuition, i can't imagine a better song than block that clears alway the debris of 21st century blues. 
so many songs in the second set i forget where i am, what city, it all just becomes a perfect moment, i'm at the end of a long long journey.
word is there can't be an encore, the band ran out of time, the people who run the factory said no, the gods of electricity and power say enough, the daddies and mummies need to get home to pay the babysitters. but the church come back with 'day 5' accompanied with a bongo player. then they launch into a magnificent cover of 'waiting for the sun' which is just glorious and finally blaze out with 'reptile.'
the crowds disperse, the people depart, the skies are clear and sydney's ice age reappears. as i wait for the bus i think about ian and how hard it must have been to step into the shoes of one of the worlds greatest guitar players and i think, 'not only did he do it, he did it with such style and grace, such individuality, it's like he has been in the band all the time.
but for someone who has in reality been with them for a year or so, the band sound reborn. better than ever really. ready to go onwards and are we not lucky people, we get to come along for the ride.