Sunday, July 27, 2014

i am neither here nor there, neither unknown or known, nothing defines me, no politic, no religion, no belief other than what i need to evolve or break through the strange existence of tears and fears.
winter pains me, i don't feel right in the cold, in dampness that rots the bones and hurts my lungs. i don't like the rainfall penetrating walls and dry places, leaking through cracks like some abominable creature hp lovecraft described. amorphous monster, the past haunting me, london calling. misery.
the cold is my enemy, it chills the blood and freezes my motion in the thick soup of the moment, i retreat. 
along comes the sun, i sit in joy soaking it up, the birds are out, rejoice. my coffee is the defrost agent, waves conform, patterns emerge one again, harmony.
my breathing is clear, the damp waterlogged sadness leaves my flesh, bones, spirit. break out the coconuts, pass me a spliff, rejoice. it will be time to emerge from winter months soon, spring will come and we can dance with abandon under the full moon and celebrate the turning of the seasons. 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

another time, inhabiting the spectral splendour of mission control, nocturnal sounds of strange beasts clamouring from their resting places, old bones creak, skeleton cabinet murmur, the rubick cube of mystery night as the moon calls dawn it's ancient tide. i wander the darkness, illuminated by some cold fire between my eyes, the central nervous system operating inter- dimensional. cosmic eye, perception of patterns upon patters, star maps hidden in star charts, multiverse within the universe, all embedded within and without. one step forwards, any direction is pointless, we are lost in deception. we deceive ourselves until we believe in the truth. 
here the wand is waved, spells cast, a maze of thought bubbles float away, some burst open, some catch the breeze, some just sink without trace, some go and evolve into great ambitions and forms, islands in the fabric of the world. 
science fiction writers produce ideas in narratives, the atomic bomb was an idea, satellites were an idea, submarines, helicopters everything starts as an idea. they go outwards into the ether, and some are plucked into reality. how does this happen, magickal theory suggests it's in manifestation and  invocation. 
i've been wondering about this, minds linked by intention but unable to know this, the ultimate detachment to result, detached by time and space. the sigil is encoded into a novel or drawing and expunged into the universe later plucked into a receptive mind and actualised by the time that mind exists in. this would conform to non locality and entanglement.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

i plugged into the cosmos baby, with my dream coat dmt downloaded info dump, i see the game, the players, the rules and all probable outcomes, don't believe me! don't really care, it makes no difference, we are all space dust dancing on the head of a pin. 
i cast my sigil into my universe, i spell bind my enemy with a flaming sword, symbol of my intentions, i move like the invisible ghost in the machine, dense perceptions only revealed to those who know how to see with a mindful eye. 
there is a mighty force called chariot, it's often superimposed with lions and large cats, flames abound but not temporal heat, cool fire, light in dense talk.
i'm in a bar in newtown talking with a friend who doesn't speak symbol, he's a lecturer in philosophy, american guy. smart enough to keep me on my toes, i like him despite his rationality. he confesses his secret past when he took lsd and i congratulate him, every man should sup from this cup be they knowledgeable.
he don't speak symbol but his logic is doubtful to my finely attuned cogs.
i speak with some cats from melbourne, reveal far to much about myself. i fall into the uniform fantasy of a girl in a coat with an innocent face and nice heels, something about those librarian girls.
i escape the city, back to the world of waves, ocean form pounds relentlessly like the thought of soft sensuality. earth beautiful and bountiful, earth, makes the sound of soaring and a word is formed. earth the host speaks the laws of life. 
contemplation time, the atrocity, it's everywhere, exhibited for the alien, for the intergalactic judges, for concerned gods, high intelligence. mankind, does what it has always done, divide itself, shed it's own blood in a rite of tribal violence and lust for power and control, it's ridiculous to say one side is guilty and another innocent, an absurdity drives the problem further away from the solution, is light right, you need a darkness to know. manufacture the outrage, compassion only makes me angry these days unless it's from a space of non judgement. who knows what's going down, do you have all the information, are you so right that all evidence cannot change your mind, hate is enslaved by the conspiracy, hate is the ultimate game of thrones. only love will win in my world but what do i know, i'm just the non prophet of doom.  

Saturday, July 12, 2014

next door close by in space lay's pearl beach, beautiful and tranquil most of the time.
yet today the terrible events permeate into my sanctuary, imagine this,  a child of 5 plays on the beach, a safe beach with a reputation of being child friendly. his family watch from a few feet away. this is a very normal situation in australia, my son spent his first 10 doing this, everyone fortunate enough to be by a beach does. we all know surf conditions, we all follow the rules, especially with children. so here is situation normal, when something so random occurs, a wave sweeps the child away. 
i've seen waves like this, been caught within their invisible currents and force. the child just vanishes. 48 hours later the search still continues, the family know the worst has happened, there is no body washed up, nothing but an awful memory still raw and still being processed.
how does that happen?
what can it mean?
what can something like this teach us all?
love every moment because everything changes in the blink of an eye.
love is all that matters.
death is indiscriminate.
somethings have no meaning we can fathom.
this event made me very sad for all the people who have to deal with this kind of situation, for all the children who suffer be they at the hands of religious nutjobs, political fools or just fate. life is indeed a veil of tears from which we have to rise somehow.
i send a silent blessing to those children and their families.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

terrible beach far away in time, i watch the surfer a lone longboard rider out there on the crest of perfection, man i wish i could surf like him / her. the board flies away from under it's rider, shooting up into the blue skies like a marlin.
i flick through my newspaper, drink coffee with my lesbian friend phoenix, the day has barely started and yet it's already frittered away. 
i have to pull myself away and formulate a plan but i'm pulled towards a need to clean mission control and do some domestics. the dramas of the last month have made my usual responsibilities slid, so i attempt to rectify this half heartedly.
for domestics to really work i require the correct music, so i spin the new lana del ray cd and follow her voice into some semi erotic landscape where french women meet california beach culture and everyone has a story to tell about some broken romance. 
in another life i wonder the possibilities of being a film director, what type of films would i make. 
i'd like to try one of each genre, horror, science fiction, detective, love story, rom com, action. i'd invert the normative and exploit the politically correct reality we inhabit. people from the smh and abc would give me a bad review because of this, but i would take this as a sign i am on the correct track.
my horror film would be about evil in human terms, how everyone holds the capacity to do bad things under the circumstances, there would be no blood or gore, it would be about good people slowly changing, it would be about the real horrors, war, slavery, the commodification of life, the exploitation of the planet and humanities inability to co exist with other species, it would be about good people motivated by what could be perceived as good intentions but ultimately they to are part of the evil that manifests in humanity. the ultimate climax would show how we are slaves, all of us to forces outside and beyond our rational knowledge, how strings are pulled, how people are engineered and manipulated without even being aware. the horror is the director is of course manipulating the viewer as well.
the science fiction move would be about first contact, only it would be with an alien so alien it is abstract in nature, spores (hat's of to vandermeer) that infect our minds and alter the way we live. i think i'd have to use annihilation, authority and acceptance as templates here. there is no point in attempting to be original as vandermeers trilogy nail exactly what i am going for. of course steve kilbey would be invited to do the soundtrack, only he could do it. 
for a detective story i would shoot in black and white, set in a nameless city, possibly about themes that revolve around identity and karma. i'd want to keep the story and script as interesting as possible, slow pace, slow burn, carefully considered characters, tarot archetypes, the lead detective, possibly female uncovering the truth about the nature of reality. 
the love story would be about a prostitute and one of her clients. they never have sex but come to love one another deeply.
suddenly i realise i would never make these films, these films inhabit my mind as films i'd like to create but don't have means to do so. so many stories, ideas float through my head, in micro time, split infinity.
lana sings her songs, the skies are true blue, the dog dreams and my place looks cleaner although piles of paper shrines need sorting through, but i abandon that in favour of my book, i'm hooked as it reaches a climax, must finish...

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

the shit went down today, i walk in shambolic in black, i wear my cosmic pants and captain's hat, like a seafaring man returning with bad news, from distant travels, i pass through glass cubicles where the workers look nervously in my direction, you can see them wonder as they follow me with their eyes. led by managers and top level bureaucrat, better sit down and open a bottle, listen to my tale. 
i have my second mate with me a woman who knows the score, she commands respect, a talisman. sitting down we do the small talk, then i tell my tale, occasionally interrupted for questioning. 
one day i will write about it, strange story where i'm cast forwards as spokesperson for the disenfranchised, but these upper management types have no idea of my nature, no idea of my background, no ideas of the force that empowers me. 
two and a half hours later they have understood and then i play my ace card. jaws drop, it's a good moment if i had an ego, but i'm feeling nothing but sorrow for my nemesis, compassion for my enemy as they are slayed by truth, i am detached, for i am not truth but it's vessel. 
outside on the streets my first mate gives me a hug, 'you were brilliant,' she offers.
'you were brilliant, your strength was mine.'
i mean it.
i drive home, long day falling asleep on me, i get some calls from interested parties who were concerned. 
i have to mention them, my karmic broker, jeff the interstate counsellor, the ace card without which i would have lost the war and the great spirit who flowed through me and i praise my enemy, i'm sorry but your demise was determined long ago by a universe of beauty truth and some sort of justice i know exists.   

Friday, July 04, 2014

okay, the walls are closing in, one wall is the face of an ego of my nemesis, the other is my clients, the other wall is my responsibility to all parties and the other to myself. 
bureaucracy is a beast, sluggish in it's efficiency, stumbling here and there, one cm forwards two cm back, wobbles here, wobbles there, looses itself in grey areas, is bleakly blocking the sunlight, in crisis mode it's two prime directives.
how can it stop itself being sued.
how can it stop the press finding out.
this is what bureaucracy does, it has one weapon, the face of mediocracy. it has one weakness, the spirit of humour. 
bureaucracy is no dragon, no unicorn, it's not alive with any coherent altruistic interest, it cannot care, support or nurture. 
the bureaucracy by nature are filled with smaller elements of itself, self preservation is instinctive and often without higher intelligence. the people that work there are automatons, limited processing power outside of generating paperwork, policies and procedures. the lights in the buildings of these institutions are artificial brain zappers, the colour scheme slows innovation down until it marches backwards, the dull ambient hypnotic throb softens the sharp edges of the mind.  
not me though, i'm captain mission, champion of lost causes, the disempowered. i can't escape the walls but i can move around outside them, everyone underestimated me, they big bosses in their ivory towers, the masses of paperwork they generate the huge dept. that they exist within all designed to crush people like me. ha, but i've always been outside the box. i say to my boss you have no power over me. I say to the gravitational pull of this huge construct you have breached every standard and ethical principle you promote, therefore i win. to my clients i say, i will protect you, to myself i say i am already dead, already fought the battle, win loose, it makes no difference, it's about being true to myself. they never seen anything like you captain mission. they use fear against you and now they are fearing you, as you laugh at their grasp over control, laugh at how the harder they grip the more it slips away. 

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

everything zen this morning i had that moment, feeding my old fish. he was dying when i inherited him, pondman said he's only got a few weeks left, old mangy thing, his eye all bulbous and wretched, skin looking awful, colour faded in decay, deaths shadow upon him. he's lived two years now, his colour and life force returned. 
so this morning i'm feeding him, it's almost hand feeding, his senses are not sharp but he's got spirit. i like his oriental mouth, it's hilarious. like an ancient kung fu master, a bit like yoda, as his mouth opens and closes i think he's trying to telepathically communicate to me. so i stand there and as i throw each pellet down in front of his mouth i get this really zen moment where i am the fish and we are all one, part of some process of nature, connected and unable to even intellectualise it, just what it is.
for a moment i was no longer captain mission feeding a fish, i was not even aware i was human, i was just in a zen moment.
it felt strangely satisfying, everything in place for that one perfect moment. i wonder if my fish felt it to.

Monday, June 30, 2014

now i understand it, that dream, it was me obviously, you were me. my anima. you always were really beautiful, can i write that without being vain, ha! 
it's so obvious now but it's taken a few days for the clarity to come. i must be struggling with hope and despair deep down, i know i am, i do. experience has made me cynical, the antithesis of how i once felt.
the world is sorrow, it's impossible not to feel the onslaught of suffering, the more you know the more you hurt which is why escape takes it's forms, painkiller!
drugs, books, sex, fantasy, suicides, all end the pain.
i understand how compassion works, not just why it's important but why it's easy to be compassionate to almost everyone else except yourself. am i just getting older. will i be an angry old man, can i escape that? got to let it go mission, even that is just an idea your crazy old subconscious threw at you outta the blue but man did it shake me. and why are you my anima?

Sunday, June 29, 2014

it was the future, bright beautiful sunny morning, cloudless and soft, curves in the air, no harsh shadows, these were glorious days, i had a spring in my step, bouncing along the street making my way through the gardens up the path to the hospital gate. 
big trees cast big shadows, some people sat in their shade, drinking coffee, laughing and chatting with visitors. i was on my way to see you, i think this must be where you worked, art therapists or some sort of sexy art nurse, loved by everyone, darling of the doctors and surgeons, with their elegant style and material sheen, confident auras and ultra white teeth, clinical people would have found you an anomaly, people just stood next to you for the healing to begin. you've always been spirit to me. 
i watched it all from some peripheral, maybe it was vivid in the recal, maybe it all had that lucid dream vibration. I don't know because i was dreaming. all i know was that i was deliriously happy, the lightness in me as i floated up those steps into the side doors where they all waited for me.
some man grabbed me, his arms swung around me pulling me away, work colleagues of yours betrayed their secrets, their concern spilled out through clenched teeth and fierce agonised eyes, but i was slow in my dream, not sure if they were concerned for me or someone else, they pulled me into a small room. leather seats, that worn green fade, dark woods, dark musty corners, like an experienced psychiatrists office. i could see a few volumes but couldn't make out the names. the light was soft, coming from a lamp. 
'something's happened mission.'
'i'm just on my way to meet...'
and then they told me, the words came out like physical things, bricks heavy and weighty, bubbles soft and light, like synaesthesia my sensory organs were cross wired, i could hear black hammering down my heart, my brain taking it all in, it was to much.
i woke up in total fear. 
my dream life often intervenes but this was awful, i was shaking and sweating cold fear, i just wanted to see you again absent friend. i just wanted to hold you and tell you whatever it is going down you can talk to me, you can tell me anything any time, it's safe, i'm your friend, albeit terrible as i have not written or rung in years. 
but in my dream it was to late. 
something bad overshadowed you, it came out off nowhere and took you from me, some weird destructive energy inside your head stole you away and i didn't even see it coming. 
i think i even felt guilty, just fucking guilty. that's why i sent you a text outta the blue, i couldn't bare the thought of a world without you, it's inexplicable enough. 
now i look back on that dream and it was the perfect day, walking to you, all that expectation, all that joy and then as soon as i walked through the doorway, gone. the nighmare.
guilty because in my dream i was deliriously happy but you must have been feeling something darker than i could fathom. no one knew, it was a shock for everyone. 
the end of the dream was fading and my concious mind interfering but i think you failed in your attempt, apparently it was violent and savage, you were on life support and i remember walking up to a window and hearing the 'beep beep' of the machinery, i couldn't walk in there cos i figured it was your call so i stood there as my other life leaked in.
i wandered around in the morning, i was outta whack, i had to sit down and collect my thoughts, nothing seemed important. nothing was, i wanted to just run towards you and hug you but i just sat there, i think i cried, fuck, i don't know, it shook me.
when i got a text reply from you i kinda wanted to call you immediately but i'm probably just an old man now, sitting in my sun room watching the birds in the garden. i'm not the person you knew all those years ago, i'm not the person in the dream, i'm not skipping through the sunlight with joy in my heart on the way to see my wife. i'm just captain mission, a man.      

Friday, June 27, 2014

clive palmer just proved a point i have been writing about for years, he played the left wing media like a maestro, lulling them with his anti abbott persona, wooing them with his outrageous statements against the liberal party, courting abc hosts and audience until they heard with their eyes at the al gore debacle press conference where he pulled the plug on the carbon tax, the ets and let the clean energy act slip through. he had al gore take the hit, basically endorsing liberal policy, he had the sydney morning herald, the abc and the guardian all applauding him for his anti abbott stance and then two days later they begun to wake up to the reality of the facts.
the greens, labour and their apologists had no idea of what happened, they were under his glamour and here in lies the problem with theses journalists and so called tv commentators of the left. they do not know how to be journalist's or political commentator's they have been brainwashed. they have an ideology that they push even when it's proven to be a lie, and they all swallowed up palmers play because they hate abbott so much, the truth didn't count in the story.
palmer is a selfish oaf, but he is smart and he just won the game of thrones, giving the liberals exactly what they wanted. the clean energy commission will placate the greens and labour but the facts remain, palmer played them for a pack of fools.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

it really is a thin line isn't it?
between hope and despair, there lies lifetime's, the oldest story you can find, the battle between light and dark, played out from the beginning, played out right now, every decent spiritual truth nails it, every spiritual path leads to it. it's in space, look at the stars, there are more now than there was in the beginning.
does that mean the light is winning, i don't know. it means there are stars in the darkness, some shine bright, some dimmer, some are long dead and gone, but some just get born. every man is a star, ever man can be a star, a sun or a black hole out there, sucking up light. one day i will look up and see light everywhere. 
that's the prime directive, forget everything else, it's just your fiction, just your drama. the war between light and dark is a thin thin line, sometimes you may find yourself undercover, and as the mighty tao teaches all light beings have a little darkness within, all darkness contains light and the riddle like the inscrutable chinese equation, is that hope or despair?
jesus forgave his enemies, imagine that as a teaching and apply it. buddha let it go, apply it to your own belief and need to be right. krishna teaches how all is illusion only the internal battle matters. are you winning?
then there is hope.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

i mentioned in an earlier post i was involved in a legal case with a client i support, the beneficiary of a large sum of money. the family are squabbling over the cash and i got sucked in by my employer. but as i followed my brief, my boss didn't, she became envious and bitter that i was involved and she wasn't so she decided to feed the other side information, resulting in a massive legal breach and putting me and my client at huge risk.
she should have been removed but i guess they need to investigate further and decide what they want to do. it's bizarre that this situation developed, she only has herself to blame but the atmosphere i work in is hostile and volatile, lot's of stress.
this sort of stuff happens a lot, i'm envied by peers and bosses because i get on well with the clients and they like me. i was moved from one place i worked because i got on TO well with the clients and parents. the dept i work in is littered with personalities who are dysfunctional bullies. this seems to be the case all over australian society and i have said many times the economy would improve if managers actually knew how to manage rather than bully.
imagine that!

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

shot by both sides- magazine

no government on earth has it's own peoples interests at heart. governments have been corrupted by globalists agendas and the new world order and within a few years we will begin to see the technocrats dream of the cashless society emerge. then the linkage of credit to carbon, and then the surveillance of every single individual on earth. the grids are there already, of course this is sold to us in words that are digestible, 'sustainable, environmental, progressive and inclusive,' cos we all know language is a virus. these technocrats have it sewn up, the mass flux of ammunitions, just look at the shootings in sydney in the last few years, racial tensions escalate, fear propagated until the civilian requests more control for it's safety. and there you have it!
'but you asked us for it,' president joe says, 'you asked and i gave.'
the really scary truth is most good people will bring this upon themselves thinking they are doing the right noble thing, i mean who don't want to save the environment or not be a racist? 
the problem is information is manipulation, everyone has an agenda. the goodies are the baddies the baddies are the goodies and they make you chose a side.
that's the real problem.
anyway it's coming no matter what side you chose....

Sunday, June 22, 2014

my doctor says my health is excellent, he says the results all indicate i am in good condition but wants me to have further tests as being an old man now i am prone to certain weaknesses. i agree that it is possibly within my interest to continue with the medical model but warn him i will not take pharmaceuticals unless i'm in terrible pain. my stoicism makes him laugh.
i tell him about how arthritis medication assists bald people grow hair but seems to have no effect on the arthritis.
this is a recent example.
i tell him how all the skool shooters in the usa were on anti psychotic medication. 
it's weird as i normally don't advocate my own world view upon others unless its face book and there you can determine my attitude by what i don't post over as well as my posts. i don't like to spread fear and division, but at the same time can't ignore it completely. the natural response to the human condition is depression, i think we should acknowledge this, if you are in anyway sensitive or aware you will shed tears. but this in most cases seems to be treated with anti depressants, and i think this is wrong in principle.
it can be summed up by the antithesis in the statement, ignorance is bliss. for the truth is ignorance is ignorance, bliss is bliss. bliss must be worked for, it is discipline and mental yoga, it is impermanent. ignorance can share these qualities but tends to hang around a lot longer and kept under suppression by medication, consumerism, religious and political indoctrinations and various memes that drive us away from liberation, keep us trapped within the maya. 
i think there is a place for pharmaceuticals but it's far to powerful an industry, far to over used and far to insidious in it's unnatural nature. the whole industry seems to be based around stopping spiritual emergence more that stopping pain. if that's just a side effect i'm uncertain but it is a definite resulting condition.
i wonder if those buddhist monks get depressed?


Saturday, June 21, 2014

human has been, failing at an unpredictable velocity, cutting tree and burning up the atmosphere, building stupid things, chasing dumb ideals, megalithic structures that have no intrinsic values, believing in all the wrong things, our dytopian future at the hands of the unimaginative control freaks who's vision is blurred by power games.
watching the warring factions hack each other to bits, watching the children being used as weapons in their war, watching some dumb stupid desert people squabble over imaginary lines in sand, kings and gods, watching the inevitable rise of stupidity.
the west has never understood the east, it's always made the same mistake, backing the wrong team, cultural relativity, dividing to conquer. the enemy of my enemy is my friend would work if the enemies enemy was your friend as well but even after 4000 years there are no friends, it's every man for himself. that's the law of mankind, survival through independence, default nature no matter what we aspire to. 
there must be a better way to live?
those cats in the amazon, hunting and hanging out in trees, drinking vine, watching the light and spaces between, star gazing friends, those cats know how to live better, safety in small numbers. 
their enemy is time, as it eats their home and strips away the nature. our enemy is stupidity, but alas, stupidity is everywhere, it drools off university lecturers and graduates, it falls from the tongues of commentators and experts, it's given away in fast food restaurants like plastic toys that get stuck in the throat of young children, it's emanating from tv, it's falling from the skies, it's hammered out in blogs, it's thrashed in chords and major sevenths, it's washed up on plastic beach islands, it's rotting brains, minds, imagination, hearts and spirits. we had the bronze age, we had the iron age, we had the space age, we had the technological age..and now we are smack bang in the middle of the stupid age! 

Thursday, June 19, 2014

it's strange how things can effect me, take for example lloyd cole whom i really liked when he was a rattlesnake, i liked his literary references and saw them play heaps of times in london, berlin and various other cities. however when i came to australia it was a long time between gigs and i grew bored with most of his output as a solo musician. but then one day i saw he was playing the basement so i bought a ticket.
now in my early days in sydney i was a regular at the basement, love the venue yet this night when i drive from avalon to the city and parked and queued up for lloyd, the people at the door refused to let me in. they gave no reason just said they wanted the clientele to be of quality and i was not suited.
'but i have a ticket.'
'well if you read the small print it says we can refuse entry.'
'who the fuck reads small print when they buy a ticket.'
'if you don't leave we will call the police.'
'i want a refund.'
needless to say i demanded a refund and eventually they gave me one.
i never returned to the basement and never will. i never played a fucking lloyd cole cd ever again, and can't stand him when he dissed the church apparently. so there you go, my loyalty has a boundary.
later i discovered the basement had been taken over by new management, they seemed to want an aryan clientele or some uber cool type of zombie which is ironic seeing as it's a jazz club and jazz kinda has black roots. 
you know what was amazing about this, i was in a huge crowd of trendy inner city fuckwits who never even bothered to defend or protest at the management at my treatment, whereas i make a point of intervention when it comes to this sort of injustice.
anyway, the basement can go fuck itself, and so can lloyd cole.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

vast ego distorts as expanded compassion, he gazed at events beyond his sphere of influence, he cried and sobbed, his wrath and anger, his words label and define in ways only he understands yet hopes to influence herd mind.
this is the man who walks the righteous path, above all self enquiry. casting aspersion and blame, fault and expostulation. this is the man whom leads his fellow man down division, oh man love thy enemy, love him when you kill him, for they are dead already. love him when he kills you for they are dead already. love is the law, love is letting go.
i drive to buddha with my new friend phenix, she tells me about her project and it agrees with my strange ambiguous nature, we talk about the old days in newtown, we talk about the world of dating, what a crazy experience this has been for me, we talk about all things on the verge of all things, devotion and listening. my car needs a service, it makes uneasy noises and feels sluggish and listless, my body hacks up some strange chest pain, sharp shooting severe side spasm takes me to emergency status, they send me to get an ecg, they suck my blood, they x ray me. 
i hate all this shit but it has to be done, my life feels ancient already, yet i feel i were born yesterday. it's strange to be waiting for death, have i had a stroke, a heart attack, some sort of weird psychosomatic affliction. i breath the pain away, i look for the raven, there he is in front of me. am i at peace? yes, i am at peace. is this my time, no! old man you have many years left but let me remind you all things must pass, and your flesh is in decline, your bones haunt you, your organs pound onwards in steady resolution that the ghost in the machine drives them into tomorrow, and when old captain missions number is up, its up so let it go.... 

Monday, June 16, 2014

following annihilation comes authority, the second in the 'southern reach trilogy by jeff vandermeer, not quite annihilation 2 as this novel takes place within the agency responsible for sending expeditions into area x over the last 30 years. what we find in this strange sequel is what happens to an organisation that has failed after decades of attempts to investigate an inexplicable  anomaly that seems to have no interest in communication whatsoever. have they been effected by area x already?
i got off to a difficult start on this one but after a while realised that the writer was not going to explore the same territory as the first book, here he looks much wider at the implications of how the southern reach ('authority') works in an kafkaesque and orwellian way. 
this is an excellent book, it challenges the reader profoundly and although there is a slow pace to the writing it appears to reflect the surreal creepy alienation that occurs within the story. it's the best horror novel / sci fi novel i have read for years and it's quite original and well executed. this guy will become huge i think because he is literate and very clever. makes total sense why the church would want to write with him.  

Saturday, June 14, 2014

the elemental creatures, they huant the night, full moon over the astronomical significance of a cyclic parabola, some read tea leaves others planets, some see a future past others see past the future. 
i see the soft apocalypse, curtains reveal the wizard a wreck of a shambolic human pulling strings and opening doors, zaya-bong i believe. he smokes roll up cigarettes with mexican tobacco and has skin withered and ancient like some old used map. he has teeth like a graveyard and eyes that left the living a long time ago.
zaya-bong talks to some creatures, insects and catfish of man, he's not speaking in tongues for glossolalia was glossed over for symbolic hand gestures, the kind you find in old grimories and enochian literature, not quite an exact science for it means nothing, all show and posturing, an unkind glamour. the beasts don't care, they have a list of demands, a black  heartlessness, a stupidity that borders brainwashing zombie intelligence and the last one demands a moral weakness o' great wizard, give it to me now.
zaya- bong coughs, he turns to his assistant, 'give the people what they want.'
some exchanges are made, the representatives of man snatch the gifts in their greedy hungry paws, stuffing them inside their persons absorbing the energy like vacuous pumps, not even examining them once and in all likely hood mistakes have been made.
the wizard don't care, he's left already for his weekly blood transfusions and medical exams. the assistant has already left the building in a stretch limo. 
as for the three, why they are already returning to their peoples bearing the wrong gifts of unnecessary ruin and calamity. 

Friday, June 13, 2014

first book of a trilogy sees an anthropologist, a psychologist, a surveyor and a biologist enter area x, a strange ever shifting geographical are where an event occurred that has quarantined it from the world and set an indefinable border around it that may or may not be incrementally expanding.
the all female team are the 12th expedition, where all previous expeditions have returned deranged, detached, suicidal or afflicted with aggressive cancers we follow the thoughts and perceptions of the biologist as they discover the spiral staircase that leads down into the earth.
our biologist sees this as a tower and as the team enter they are subjected to the bizarre and alien experiences we have come to love from the author. 
i read this book in two sessions, it's quite brilliant, reminiscent of jb ballard and hp lovecraft, the writing is exceptionally beautiful, the story horrific and yet beautiful, can't wait to get straight into the next book in the series.

Sunday, June 08, 2014

it's not everyday i come across a book that i want to read again as soon as i finish, i'm two thirds through and the unusual feeling of an immediate re read came to me after chapter one. 
here is a brilliantly articulated intelligent document of the conceptualised idea of... baphomet, a much marginalised and misunderstood idea, often hijacked by fear mongers, chaos agents and fundamentalists. the writers nikki wyrd and julian vayne chapter by beautiful chapter expand on baphomet as they almost will it into creation. it's everything i believe in one elegant slim book. what a brilliant piece of work this is, buy one now, thank me later.
a dawn drive after the rain, sun blazing across the horizon, casting into shadow, indelicate contrast. the road is vacant as my module in cruise mode fly's along. i pass the huge rock formations, ancient stone, geology slow time intersects dream time, strange portals for the pineal gland. 
i pass the glistening sky, vivid blue vibration as i approach the excellent waterways, small town surrounded by water. people pass through stop to buy a drink, end up staying for years, lifetimes pass by in the blink of an eye. i myself a married man spent a few years with a nordic woman as my wife, her blue clear eyes and pale skin, her golden hair and ambient nature. the memory faded as the water passes, and the road curves uphill into fog.
where did that come from, a dense patch obscures all environment, now would be a good time for a song but the player is vacant, my car cleared of music. 
out of the fog i emerge, blasted by sun, a born again sun washes over everything as i turn off the freeway and into the bushland, where tall significant trees honour the boundaries. 
i turn into the small obscure road and see pan waiting for me in the sun. he's all knowing, super sensory. home is good, home is where i arrive.  

Saturday, June 07, 2014

the warm spell banished as forty days of rain falls, the damp air keeps me inside, reading various texts, a little himalayan honey tea, some fresh lemons. 
the world outside looks washed out and cold, like a norwegian autumn i stay home for what seems likes weeks but it's probably just a few days, the phone don't ring, there's no sign of intelligent life anywhere. 
the reptile in my roof makes a scraping sound, the dog looks forlorn as rain falls, birds make a noise but remain hidden away. 
i play some tori amos, it irritates me, unlike kate bush whom has a certain grace about her. i do like tori but she's no kate in my book.
i end up watching a documentary on insects but i give up halfway through, i watch some politicians speak at the d day ceremony, i wonder if they will mention the 20 million russians that died, i doubt it. it seems crazy they fought that war to stop a totalitarian dictatorship that thwarted democracy and individualism, and then 70 years later formed the european union which is pretty much the same thing.
i fall into a soft sleep, dreams half form, faces leering from the ether. i drive into sydney, there's a break in the rain, the clouds form a lattice across the skies, no stars but it's clear.
there's no traffic. if an alien space ship were passing overhead now would be a good time to land. i watch the sky. no intelligent life here.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

in the frenzy of my multiple realities, as i combat adversary's, situations become more bizarre and extreme, my plates still spin, my juggling act in full swing, any moment now one of those fine china things are going to fall right on top of my head and set stars in orbit around my noggin. 
i leap from here to there, all my fruits are in the air, apples and pears, blueberries and zap fruit. mmm mangoes and coconuts, assuming a coconut can be described as a nut amongst fruit.
well here i am in the grip of some inevitable medieval sickness, a renegade virus has struck me a blow, run down like a penguin in a straight-jacket on the santa barbara freeway. that hacking cough, the sickly fluids, will they ever stop, the awful soreness at the back of my throat, constricted and restricted, intense pressure and unbearable load. the blurred vision, the throb of cranial black hole as gravity collapses inside my skull. i have to work, my people are also struck down, we are all equal here, everyone is sick and i'm the last man standing. 

Monday, May 26, 2014

strange how change occurs yet the soundtrack seems to evolve along, memories shaped by sound, colours, landscapes, faces and feelings, atmosphere, energy.
many people have soundtracks to their lives, many people have certain songs defined by pivotal points, or vis' versa, it's had to say what comes first, was the song a spell that seems to cast it's magic upon your experience or your experience just saturated with the song?
'it dosn't matter' is the answer, the chicken and the egg are simultaneous co-inhabitors of the same universe, the experience they have is not independent neither is it dependant, separation is illusion.
i have a soundtrack to my life, it started with david bowie, lou reed in the seventies and towards the end the influence of london during the punk and post punk years but bands came and went, broke up, made unredeemable mistakes although i forgave bowie but only one band stuck to the mantra. the invisible contract, the manifesto between fan and band.
i saw them play with an orchestra somewhere down the time line, it was at the opera house and it was a pivotal moment, i was immersed in the atmospherics, the music, the joy of seeing my fave band actually reach some sort of recognition and acclaim from others. the church were never just a band, they were my band, not in an arrogant possessive way, but they were the band that always delivered to my high expectation, not just the obligatory album a year, they delivered quantity as well as quality and as our paths converged it became obvious that although a small and independent band, their vision was about to burst forth en mass.
the orchestrated church defines a moment in their history, but it's not history that concerns me, it's the fact within that moment the seeds for the future were sown.
usually when i get a church cd i wait till dusk, light some candles, smoke a spliff and listen to it uninterrupted, it's a special thing for me. i like to feel my body react to the music, the words set my neural net sparking and synapses get stimulated. there's that wonder and amazement, surprise and awe, moments where new landscapes unveil themselves in my synesthesia, explosion of colours and patterns, images and fragments, places faces, information hit, my very own dmt hit. 
when i received the elegantly packaged double cd set i intended to play it under my usual conditions but i've been thwarted by my life as a citizen, it's all death and taxes in the zombie apocalypse of the human word. 
so there i am 5am in the morning about to drive down the highway, i impulsively do something against my own code, i take the psychedelic symphony cd and give it a first listen in the imperfect environment of my car stereo. 
i do remember most of the concert vividly but also as an overall energy, it was warm, there was a lot of love in the house, surprise to, and finally mainstream australia began to see the greatness of the music. 
possibly the biggest credit e to george ellis whom never over reaches his orchestration into the music of the church, it's very unusual for a rock band to successfully integrate with an orchestra and play their whole back catalogue without messing with the balance. the orchestration shows something revealing, respect. obviously george has complete respect for the church's music and it shows.
my drive down was glorious, as 'metropolis' kicks of to the first and final words, there will never be another one like you,' you taste the magic in the atmosphere, you know something beautiful is about to happen. 
and it does, the sun rises, night skies gradually fade away to a deep rich morning blue, venus sends it's final visible rays, the water passes by me glistening with promise, a few fishing boats cut a fine line across the surface, no traffic, no limit.
here are the songs, subtle arrangements, elegant craftsmanship, spectral finesse and flourishes, harmony and symphony, music for the spheres, the hairs on my arm are standing on end, everything seems in it's place, steve's singing is incredible, the guitars, the rhythm machine that is tim powles, layers and layers of sound and word, the familiar sounds fresh and exciting, the subtle shifts and arrangements of parts and lyrics, the delivery all executed with the kind of professional ease only created from love. 
on my return journey i played cd 2, and it just delivers the goods even more, 'happy hunting ground' took me back to london where i saw the church come onstage to that song in a small club and then play a blistering set. here the orchestra transforms it into something else, it's always been a beautiful song but now it shines. 
i'd completely blocked 'ripple' have no memory of it being played live but here it is soaringly spectacular, 'two places' sounding as emotional as ever, those harmonies are perfect and when i get to 'the dis illusionist' you know we are in the realms of the russian writers here, it's dostoyevsky or gogal, steve's method singing his way through a car crash of a character, we have to look, listen. the new songs from 'untitled' sound so much better live, 'anchorage' and 'angel street' evoke a heavy sadness and distance, a detachment and loss.
'tantalised' steals the show, steve's vocals belting out the words, the guitars scorch the earth and set the skies alight and the drums pushing it forwards into your bones. 
yeah play this cd when i die, play it to celebrate my strange and wonderful life as captain mission, everyone get stoned and play it loud. 

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

lot of plates in the air, spinning around me, somethings gotta crash i can't keep up with it all, but they just keep turning, wobbling and rotating like planets in space. 
one day when i'm free from constraints, somewhere down the time line i'll write about my work in great detail, the world i hardly ever mention, some say it's the real world, i dunno, i function in it but it don't seem real to me, just human dramas, real to the players i know but to me who navigates around their complex issues and personalities i become less and less interested in humanity's dramas, a strange species endlessly repeating their mistakes and folly. 
the church dvd and double cd pack arrived this morning, i'm waiting for dusk then i'll light some candles, smoke and listen.

Saturday, May 17, 2014

okay scorpio's a coming, 
influencing my zodiac
rocks float through the void
just to give me a smack
fates and fortune
rolls on the dice
just karma circumstance
say the words of advice

i charged up my lunar powered zap gun, it's luminous casing glowed ambient purple in the starlight, pulsing in my hand like an old friend. yeah you always had my back, it's good to have you in my hands again, old friend.
i stepped out onto the crisp sand, some darkness seemed to envelope around me, the street light flickered and popped out as a dark cloud passed before the moon. 
waves crashed every few seconds and i could hear my heart beat over the top as i kept stepping forward.
terrible beach at midnight, such a strange place to rendezvous, down on the sealine, outta sight from everything. 
the surf crashed bringing me into hypersensitivity, the hairs on my arms stood on end picking up electrical signals, i focused my attention scanning at 90 degrees, approaching at an angle, moving in on some unidentified invisible object. 
i saw some movement, down on the sand, crabs, lots of them scuttling along, some going in and others out, it puzzled me at first, the opposing directions but nature is a strange wondrous beast with inventive energies and diverse strategies i appreciate and respect. i moved forwards but not before checking the skies. the light was shifting again, my umbraic vision had improved and i could see the moon begin to reveal itself again. and in perfect time there she stood, in her strange velvety costume, intricate embroidery  decorated her gown, she held up her hands and smiled, 'you won't be needing that mission.'
i conceded, 'indeed, scorpius does move in strange ways, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
i offered a hand, and she gave me her cheek.
we wandered together, her voice soft and gracious as her movements, here eyes offered a kind madness, not human, more animal, more dead than alive.
i wanted to bring her to life, but it would be pointless, scorpius was beyond life and death.
we walked and talked, small talk, she seemed to know a lot about me, more than i did so i played it safe, said little, listened and contemplated her nature.
as we walked she seemed to change, her features shifted, her hair colour went from darkest black to red, through to blonde and black again, her eyes however remained the same. 
we stopped walking, the moon bathed us in it's light and i knew we were at the destination.
'captain mission, it has been lovely walking with you, i have enjoyed your contemplations but i summoned you here for a reason.'
i smiled, 'you sent me a text message, that's hardly a summoning, how did you know i would turn up?'
'you have a curious mind, it was inevitable you would.'
'inevitable,' i pondered the implications momentarily, 'well it has certainly been a pleasure, but tell me what you want from me, i'll listen and make a decision based on how i feel about your request.'
'you can't decide, it's just inevitability. however i want to share my desire with you, my wish. i want you to defeat the hydra.'
whatever romance was in the atmosphere was replaced by hyper-vigilence, my face must have given my concern away.
'don't worry mission, you are almost there. just be aware the next few parts of the process are going to be tricky, defeat it mission, that's your mission.'
she started walking into the ocean, the water wrapping itself around her feet,'should you choose to accept it.'
if it was a summers night i would have waded in after her but it was cold, i noticed i was freezing, shivering, even my teeth were starting to chatter. i had turned up in my old church t shirt and my hemp pants, barefoot. my skin was ice. i did watch her disappear, uncertain weather night swallowed her up first or the sea.
trudging back following my own footprints (there were no traces of hers) i found my car where i left it, stuck the zap gun in the glove box, checked my phone, drove home listening to some ambient music. 
i boiled a saucepan of water for a hot drink and had a hot shower, came down, made my drink and fell asleep on the sofa without even having a sip.


Friday, May 16, 2014

tony robot, i expect the labour party to be wasteful, beurocratic inefficient and aligned with socialist values. i expect the green party to be in league with the united nations and their agendas, but from the liberals after the travesty of the last few years i expected you would keep your word. i know the debt is awful and we have to deal with it, i know what debt is, it was extremely irresponsible for the govt. of the day to fritter the economy away. i liked the ideas but we all know labour can't implement anything efficiently, it's filled with ineffective people. 
all through the election your mantra was repeated over and over because you are a political robot and you know how to hypnotise a nation with a mantra or two. you didn't really use the mantras imaginatively,
'no surpises' 
'no taxes' 
'no broken promises'
every chance you got in front of a camera, the mantras sinking and penetrating into the australian public because they bloody voted for you. 
and what have you just done tony robot?
surprised us! with your new taxes. broke your promise.
i didn't vote for you but i expected you would keep your word after you punished gillard day in day out, i expected more. did you not listen to your own words.
the financial deficit is a problem, but the bigger problem is the trust deficit, that's a spiritual equation, we will pay in our taxes like we always do but you will pay as well, the eternal currency.
that's the way it rolls tony robot, sorry, but you sold every single person who lives in australia out!
and if billy bob shorten has learnt anything, he won't lie to the public.
the governments of planet earth are fucked up, it's seriously wrong, somethings gotta give.
'don't, lie, cheat or steal, the government hate competition' i have that sticker on my fridge but it should be everywhere, all over australia.    

Monday, May 12, 2014

there is little these days that pulls me away from libetaria, the glamour of sydney no longer allures me, the friends i have are far and few between and if it wasn't for the pull of a few bookshops i wouldn't really bother. oh yeah, then there's steve kilbey and the church, one of the few musicians that nourish my spirit, feed my mind and keep me going. so saturday afternoon i awoke in the late afternoon and realised i should haul my body into sydney to see steve playing a gig with one of my other musical heroes mr. positive vibrations, robyn hitchcock, yeah two great legends on stage together.
i'd managed to avoid knowing what the evening would bring, i wanted the whole experience to be new and surprising. 
i move my body through it's rituals and notice a great lethargy, my bones ache from winters penetration, my head throbs from some complex work issue, i literally wake up exhausted. for the first time ever i don't feel the enthusiasm i have always felt before a night out seeing music, just a weariness and finality, as though i'm finished and should just lay down and close my eyes.
it takes immense effort to shake away this feeling, i jump in the shower and blast myself with hot scalding water, i scrum my teeth with islamic toothpaste (the best toothpaste on earth) i take my proton pill and drink some juice. 
on the train i fall back into a heavy sleep, dreaming of faces, places and watch time loops play out behind my eye. i think my own snoring wakes me up.
the carriage is packed, every few seconds someone wants to swap or change seats, forcing me to shuffle, a child screams and shrieks, girls talk far to loudly disclosing vast details about their sex lives to anyone tuning in, two young backpackers speak in an unfamiliar european language, swiss perhaps with its hybrid german, italian, french and romanish, they smile at me, picking up my curiosity but keeping it under their hats, nice smile i think as i doze of again.
when my eyes open i am travelling deep into the city, through the inner west heading to newtown and onto central station, heading closer to my destination. 
outside on the surface the darkness has arrived, the city heaves and throbs under darkening skies as i wander down crowded streets, stopping into 'galaxy' to make an enquiry and into 'kinokuniya' to buy a warren ellis's 'gun machine' i have an hour to kill so i peruse the massive japanese bookshop, last of it's kind, eyes scanning the endless rows.
at the metro i briefly see steve, he looks busy but stops to give me a hug, i see kate and we head inside like excited children, take our seats right down the front.
two men walk on stage, they introduce themselves, brendon gallagher i know from jimmy little, the other guy i don't know at all. 
he potters about the stage holding a microphone and then starts singing, wow, what an incredible voice, this guy can not only sing, he's using his voice as an instrument, it's sweet and clear in pitch and resonance, he paces around in his shabby suit muttering to the audience like an angry younger version of a rolf harris that took lsd and magic mushrooms, a sort of cooler volatile eccentric rolf who never quite made the fame and fortune of analogue rolf but has the most unique vocal range i've heard in many years. he sings a song called 'quasimodo's dream' and thus is revealed as a reel, mr. dave mason.
then steve wanders on stage, casually strides through his set and plays us a new church song which sounds amazing and delivers the goods in a selection of old favourites ranging from t-rex covers to 'almost with you' he plays one of my fave steve kilbey songs, 'keeper' and it's perfect, voice carries itself in that languid wave as he engages with the audience in his usual carefree elegant style and making us laugh with his precise wit and banter, yes i would be happy to just see steve do a stand up routine, he's brilliant at making an onstage catastrophe into something self depreciating and hilarious. one of his first comments to the audience was about being in the room backstage with robyn and dave, two of the most eccentric people making steve feel quite normal. one can only imagine.
when robyn hitchcock comes on and starts playing we are in a different universe, insects and ocelots, robyn's obsessions are uniquely english, even when he sings about america it's through the eyes of an english man, the last of our true psychedelic gentlemen, offering us an intimate spellbinding slice of his catalogue, some rambles that sound like dylan thomas on lsd, i guess there's a little bit of syd barrett in everyone and robyn got a larger dose than most, what a marvellous privilege to see steve and robyn play some songs together, a syd cover 'gigolo aunt' and 'under the milky way' and finally a beautiful version of the velvets 'heroin.'
it's about 3am when i finally get home and i feel pretty good, music healed my blues, an evening of insects and stars.