i'd been in voids before, darkness was a comfort zone, so i was not particularly scared but this wasn't exactly darkness, it was layers of shadows, like being in a two dimensional forest, silhouetted with gnarly black trees, i couldn't really see them clearly but knew they were there, against a dark background i found myself taking careful steps forwards through this wood, the floor felt soft and bouncy and the air tasted bitter, just like that nettle tea elesbeth had given me. no i wasn't scared of being in the darkness but i was getting freaked out slightly by the whispering chatter i could hear.
it was so soft it barely registered at first, but it was getting louder and it became clear, whomever was speaking was talking about me.
snippets of conversations registered but otherwise it all seemed discordant. 
'he should have listened to her.'
'he didn't.'
'wicked human.'
'ghosted himself.'
'wandering the realms'
i called out, 'elesbeth, is that you?
the sound of laughter, 'he's calling out her name but he's lost.'
'i heard that and i'm not lost,' i lied, 'i know exactly where i am. why don't you come out and talk with me.'
i carried on walking, one step at a time, i felt the sides of a tree, it did have a depth, it was huge, i couldn't really see details but felt the cold bark on the truck it seemed to recoil away, it's branches creaking and i quickened my pace heading towards the sounds of the laughter.
it didn't take me long to realise the laughter was moving away from me the more i attempted to close in on it so i stopped walking and stood still, waiting to see what would happen.
'fuck it, fucking stupid fairy dust,' the works slipped out, and i regretted them immediately. 
whatever chatter there was suddenly ceased. i was beset by a silence so unnatural it sent a shiver through my spine and for the first time i recognised fear. 
there was a breeze upon my face and then the sudden appearance of thousands of fireflies, thousands, perhaps millions, moving all over the place like a maverick swarm whose radars were broken, but almost seconds after this chaotic display the swarm took shape and assembled itself into a human shape. 
i watched as the tiny lights began to flicker off and the outline of a woman stood before me.
the lights in her eyes ablaze like some sort of fantasy creature from the kingdoms of tolkein.
when the detail came she was indeed beautiful, radiating a gentle kindness and divinity i could barely grasp, i fell to my knees. it wasn't even a conscious falling, i couldn't help it, for she was grace herself.
'i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to snort the fairy dust and i didn't really think its stupid. i am sorry, please forgive me, i don't know what came over me.' i was blabbering like a spoilt baby, not really possessing the faculty to cease. she put her hand upon my cheek, 'there, there, lost one.'
'where is this place' i asked?
'you are in fairy land now, a long way from home.'
i nodded thinking, off course i am in fairy land, where else could i be.
'you will come with me,' she waved her hands and some light seemed to pour out from her fingertips,'welcome to the opalarium.'
and indeed i was transported to a red room where upon the fairy queen, if indeed she was, stood before me, looking quite wonderful in her white sequinned dress and displaying her wings, that spread open about twice the size of her arms in length and seemed to comprise of some intricate web pattern that glistened and sparkled behind her. 
i tried to compose myself but i was still pretty shaken, i cursed myself for snorting the stupid dust, fucking idiot i should have listened to the god dammed witches.
'now captain mission, we have a problem.'
i wasn't sure how she knew whom i was, but i knew better to question the fairy queen so i listened to her carefully, 'you are an uninvited visitor to this realm and therefore ignorant of the laws, and i think i should explain some of the laws of the fairy queendom lest you find yourself in deeper shit.'
i nodded attentively. 
the first law is that love is the law, it conquers all in this universe, remember that mission or perish.'
'love is the law,' i repeated.
the second law can be summed up in these eloquent words, death before dishonour. you must keep your personal integrity at all times mission, even at the face of death, you know this to be true yet you have trouble applying this, in this universe if you transgress this law you will die.'
'i'll bare that in mind.'
'good now listen well to the third law mission. beauty is life and therefore your duty is to protect beauty although it is eternal it is fragile and must be defended at all times.'
'beauty is life, i understand.'
'good captain mission, i hope you do. for know that the next law is also very important and must always be adhered to. never forget a debt captain mission, that means you must never forget an act of kindness but equally never forget a cruel act. to do so will bring our harmony and balance into chaos.'
i nodded.
'these are the laws of the seelie court and you must now live by them for this is the code that will keep you alive.'
'okay i can do that.'
'no you can't do that, it's why you are here and not in your own mortal realm. you transgressed and therefore you have been punished.'
'punished?'
'yes you can never leave this court, never return to the mortal realms.'
'but i can't stay here, i have a dog, i have to go to work and then there's the kilbey kennedy show coming up, i can't miss that?'
'you failed to follow elsebeth's warning mission, you must pay the consequence of your folly.'
'please, i made a mistake but i can't stay here. you have to help me, i have to get home.'
'it's to late captain mission, you are in the land of the farie now, remember the code and you will survive.'
'yeah i get the code, its cool but i really need to return your majesty, please understand i just can't stay here.'
'you can plead all you wish but the answer is the same, you should accept it and enjoy the realm, it has much to offer, i can even give you wings.'
'what the fuck is this, i can't stay here, can't you understand. i'm not a fucking fairy. sorry, i'm just getting frustrated, i can't stay here, i have to get home.'
she stood immobile, my words falling into the space between us. 'please, i am so sorry i snorted the fairy dust, i'm really sorry, i don't know what came over me.'
'captain mission, there is no way out.'
'fucking hell,' i muttered, 'damm fairy dust, stupid witches. stupid....me.'
i had to accept it, trapped in the fucking fairy realm, i took a few moments attempting to compose myself. a few deep breaths, i stretched my limbs out, and slapped my face a few times, this has to be a trick, some kind of joke but it was sinking in now, this absurd situation.
i must have calmed down, i looked at the fairy queen, 'what's your name, is it titania?'
'mmm no actually it isn't. it's aeval, but i do like titania it has a nice ring, mmm, perhaps i will use that name now.'
'well titania, aeval whatever you are called, tell me something. does the fairy queendom have any marijuana plants?

i'd run short of jazz cigarettes, this rarely happens and because i had recently returned from an overseas jaunt i was caught unawares so when i rang my dealer i was most distressed to learn she was out of town and not back for a few weeks. 
now, let me just say that there are many paces to pick up a bag of grass, however i happen to be very careful about what i smoke, and my preferences are for bio-dynamically 'grown with love' grass from a reliable and karmically pure source. 
i was fucked, i didn't have a plan b for a situation like this, it just never occurred to me that my dealer would take a holiday, i never thought i would run out.
i was pacing up and down like a lazy tiger trying to solve a conundrum, i made a few calls to some fringe dwellers i met a few years ago in the hills but hung up before they answered, i didn't want to do small talk and those fringe folk do small talk. fuck it, i opened my fridge and looked at all the other substances, herbal remedies, magic mushrooms, some african super viagra type plant medicine, a few smart drugs, mmm, nothing i needed at the moment. 
i drove down to the witches, they may be able to fix me up.
elesbeth opened the door and smiled, 'mission, come on in.'
'hey you look great els, how have you been?'
'i'm good, very good, we are all good.'
'where are the sisters.'
'ah they will be upset they missed you mission, you should have rang first.'
'ah yeah sorry, i'm wondering if you have any grass, i hate to ask but i'm out,'
elbeth looked at me disapprovingly, she was wearing a long cardigan and her reading glasses, nothing else. she poured me a tea, 'mission, i don't deal in that stuff, you know that.'
'yeah but i'm desperate and there's no one else to ask.'
she sat opposite me and watched while i sipped my tea, it was bitter and tasted awful, i spat it out.
'what the fuck is this els.'
'it's nettle tea mission, drink it up, there's a good boy.'
mmm those fucking witches had a way with me not many women have, i sipped the awful green liquid reluctantly.
elsbeth was lost in thought, i scanned the room, loads of books and astrological charts, bottles of weird shit, candles and a nesspresso coffee machine.
i knocked back the rest of the tea, 'mmm, it's not so bad, kinda nasty at first but seems to grow on you.'
'yes mission, it should help your bones,' she looked directly at me, elsbeth had a knack for getting me to do things i would never normally do, she was quite a soft spoken person and very attractive but she seemed to have this inner power and resilience that just opened up and peered into your soul, as if all secrets were open to her and nothing could hide. it's unnerving and to be honest a bit spooky which is why i don't often see the witches. but i think there's a sexual tension there to, something i'm somewhat nervous about, i mean these three witches are stunning ladies but they are kinda kooky, even for me. if it wasn't for my requirements i would not even be here.
'now mission, i can't help you in your weed department, but i have something else you may like to try.'
'err, mmm, well i do find you attractive elsbeth, you know that...'
'mission, i'm not suggesting that, i have some under the counter stuff. the girls all thought you should have it, we were waiting for your birthday.'
'oh, oh, i'm sorry, i thought...'
there was that awkward space, not quite long enough for me to fall into, '...you know.'
'mission this is hardcore gear, you must be careful, don't smoke it all at once.'
'okay elsbeth, okay whatever you say.'
she hands over a small silk pouch, pink, i open it up, it's half filled with a powder that looks like cocaine, except it's not white. it's purple.
'what is it, i've never seen anything like it, it has no smell, it feels like sand, looks like cocaine and tastes like...' i'm about to lick my finger and stick it in the bag but elsbeth stops me.
'no mission, not now, tonight, after sunset otherwise it won't work.'
'what is it?
'fairy dust.'
so after an awkward kiss goodbye, i hightail it back to mission control with my bag of fairy dust.
i spend the rest of the day cleaning up the garden, weeding, picking up leaves and mowing the lawn, waiting for the sun to set. i take a shower, clean myself up, brush my teeth obsessively and trim my unruly beard . outside it's getting dark, dusk, i figure i'll just prepare the powder but as i sit down i make a decision i will come to regret. i decide to snort the dust, not smoke it.
there's no explanation for my actions, it goes against all i know, i would never disrespect the witches or their gifts, i would never snort anything but the idea just seemed lodged in my head and began to determine my actions. in fact the idea i should smoke a little of the dust didn't even register, no, this was going up my nose into my brain and i was going to use it all in one huge line across the kitchen bench. fuck the protocols, the fairies won't mind, why should i listen to the witches anyway, they hold no power over me. 
i rolled up a crisp hundred and stuck it into my nostril, the line of purple dust went on about 20cm. i snorted half with one nostril and the remainder went up the other. i straightened my back, stretched up to reach the ceiling, my body needed a massage, it was tense and contracting. i couldn't feel anything but had a strange taste in my mouth, a dry sensation, so i poured myself a tea and sat on the lounge. the fairy dust wasn't working, maybe i should have smoked it after all. 
i sipped at the tea, and i must have closed my eyes momentarily for when i opened them i was not at mission control.



  

home, i guess they say it's where the heart is, mine's certainly in australia which despite all it's problems is a hell of a great place to live if you find yourself halfway through your life with  the post twentieth century blues.
that descent into sydney as you watch the coastline at dawn, split red shift on the horizon, the golden dawn indeed. see those misty snakes serpentine haze, winding along inland, like some whispy nervous system, that's just the fog over the river systems, it's looks organic, like some ancient tendriled creature. from up here it looks magical. 
ships and boats scattered across the coastline, looking like lost fragments, waves undulate in perfect sets, crisp green waterline as the surf hit's the pristine beach.
the valleys are lush concealed in a lake of mist as treetops push through, and the hills come rising out of dense bushland, like some prehistoric age. there's a few towns, empty roads, no cars visible, the plane banks to the left and my window is drenched in sunlight. later i see the beginnings of the city, familiar landmarks, the harbour bridge linking the land, the opera house like some weird birthday cake, those city monuments just surrounded by wilderness encroaching from all sides, we swoop down ready to land.
it's easy to be struck by the aboriginality of the land, it all makes sense from up here, the red yellow black flag, the dots and lines in the art, the landscape can't be escaped, it's embedded in the conciousness, not the unconscious. 
it's in my blood now, australia, separated from the rest of the world, completely unique, evolution occurred at a totally different process here, there's no place like it, home.  

t minus four and counting, electronic voice whispers, and i am reminded of gill scott heron as i slip into some sort of nitrus oxide gas induced vibe. some kind of lights flashing through the kaleidoscopic eye. i drift into the narcoleptic dreams of deep freeze cryogenics, in about 5000 years i'll be revived, billions of light years away but it will still be now.
can't escape that. 
earth was a nice dream, wonder what the news is, same old same old, the sun may have burnt out, the human population may have escaped into the stars, anythings possible in this strange old universe as long as they don't fucking meet me at the destination.
how much can a man take, all that war, greed, misery, i mean everyone has their limits right?
my thoughts flow, abstracting fast. the process kicks in, stasis sneaks up and lights begin to fade, my last thought is how lovely the scent of fresh mint is.

contemplating the peodophilic nature of england as exposed tv personalities hit the headlines, people from our childhood shows, our fucking role models and teachers, aged and fragile now, looking harrowed and defeated in the flashbulbs light, revealed to be monsters.

are they monsters?
who can say, it's an evil act there's no denying it occurs all over the world. what i can't seem to know is how it's used as a weapon, bribery, blackmail, people set up for manipulation.
a newcomer in the political game goes out for a drink with some colleagues and wakes up the next morning in a strange hotel. the next evening some men in nice suits appear and demand your political loyalty. 
that's it, your a slave. you're ideals are out the window, there's no way out, that picture is you but you can't remember a girl, a boy, you just had a few drinks after work.
everything is a weapon, from pedophilia, immigration, education, history, it's all very fucked up.
everything is a lie, those fucking nut jobs in charge need a good slap, living in their matrix is bad for my health, it's not what i'm about. stay away from most humans, keep your circle of friends small and trust worthy, that's it for today! 

a long way from home, seaside town, basking in sunlight the freak day of summer that managed to get over the line, that's where i find myself this morning, outside a slice of obscure history on the may day festival, as pagan rites and rituals are played out in a tiny village gathering. i've always had a soft spot for witches, although i don't align myself with their systems, i find myself sympathetic to their history, to their plight and movement. here they come spinning around, whirring dervish like, dancing and waving, the parade seems to flow like water, passing onlookers from afar, travelers and locals alike, children look bemused, virgins nervously glance, the green man hails the new season and everything shall come to pass.

i buy a postcard, i take a walk along the beach, i eat some good food, i drink tea, i talk with my friends, i make some vague plan. i wish i could stay here longer but i have to move again, moving and moving, through family, a few days oasis in calm and normality, peace and harmony, to the battle i must return. the savage chaotic nature of some weird inversion of love, dysfunctional and mean spirited maternal conflict, she never bonded with me, i was snatched from her arms at birth and placed in an incubator, she must never have really known if i would make it, and that must be the root of her suffering. either that or she hates me, it feels, either way i can't win for soon i will be wrenched back far away, ten thousand miles again.

brighton, england by the sea, small tiny homes, strange pebble beaches, narrow roads and lush valleys and downs, the trees speckled with colour, the birds hidden chirp, the cold wind sweeps across carried under a hint of sunlight and speckled blue skies, fighting to diminish the unnatural knitted cloud patterns. 
tez and jean, my two good friends in the south are escorting me through brighton's fringe, we join sargent pepper on his double decker bus painted white, exhibiting the art of peter blake.

the costumed folk, the thespian fools the clowns and jesters, the laughing shrieks of a child audience watching a man in a dressing gown running in circles threatening the wind for sabotaging his bubble machines. the spectre of fear as a small terrified conclave of adults watch transfixed at the sinister puppet show reaches it's its hideous climax. brighton rocks with tez and jean, whom i have not seen for three years, point out the features and landmarks, the building where half the conservative party was blown sky high, the tiny boathouses, the creative pulse of individuality, the little shops and narrow roads. the sinking sun casts the skies pink as we head home, how sweet it is down here on the english coast with my friends.
    
                              

back, after visiting family in israel, indeed the land of milk and honey, excellent foods, incredible technology, good roads very fast drivers, innovation nation, the glorious sunrise, the stunning ancient views, the hills and valleys from antiquity, every inch has a story, every stone a tale, each tree speaks of epics, each face a novel, the streets of tel aviv would put the word multicultural to shame in any western country, the art spills over everywhere, painting, sculpture, music and drama, you never really seen anything until you really have smoked hash with those girls from the golan, the ayahuscia is here, it reached out to me and embraced me like a long lost friend.   
but this trip was about family, hence my absence from writing posts,for i have an amazing family, a beautiful host of angelic women whom have married great men, who have all raised wonderful children. every single one opened up their hearts and souls, not to mention their homes and showed me the meaning of the word family. that little missing piece from my own life out in australia where i am alone.
i must thank them, from the bottom of my heart. i'll talk about them in later posts as i continue to process events and the situation i am currently in now i am back in the uk.
   

i trek in to london again to meet up with kristine, jake and i hang out in some large coffee shop before he stars work, then i high tail it over to the v and a for the rendezvous. 
i've forgotten my phone therefore have to default to the force, given that i have never met kristine before i'm relieved that she recognizes me as i wait outside the entrance. we go straight into bowieland and with our headphones tuned into the underground sensors spend a couple off hours really soaking up the exhibits. i gotta say, this is londons love letter to bowie, i write a short note to the curator, it's a beautiful exhibition. 
later i meet up with martin my brother, we explore the rest of the v and a, what a magnificent museum, it's possibly one of the best i have ever seen, although i was quite disappointed that some of the exhibits were plaster replicas, none the less it is well worth a visit. later we go up to the members lounge and gaze out at the city rooftops, drinking tea and flicking through various books and magazines. i feel like a junkie professor as i slip a couple more painkillers under my tongue and gaze at an ancient roman sculpture of samson killing a philistine.

martin takes me to covent garden and we wander around being tourists, i discover a moomin troll shop and feel really excited. the moomins are from my childhood, a swedish writer called tove jansin created them and even today i feel a deep connection with them. i even have a moomintroll cup i keep at home for coffee.

we move across london to meet up with jake, he's finishing work and we head down to noodle town to eat some chinese food.
london is humming with activity, it's cold and people are wrapped up, moving fast, the crowds are overwhelming, but there's a friendly vibe in the air, london enjoying it's second renaissance.
martin leaves for home and jake and i travel along in an over crowded tube to bond street where we say goodbye. i#m off travelling the globe for three weeks while he's orientating himself at a new job, it's a magick moment, special, i mean i'm luckey, i have a brilliant son, and he has got to know me in an unpolluted way free from all the bullshit and crap divorce can inflict on a man. it took me years to build that relationship, heal the damage of a bitter ex wife and the gossip of people with small town minds, but i'm free and so is jake, and in that space is a respect that makes everything worthwhile.

the david bowie exhibition at the victoria and albert museum was in my own humble opinion londons way of saying thank you to the artist. it was excellent in all ways although i expected much more, i would have liked there to have been a more detailed document of his music and art but i guess one has to recognize i'm a bowie nut and know a fairly detailed amount of information about his work. the exhibition caters to those who are not so informed. 
it's a brilliant space aesthetically, the design of the exhibition is excellent from the small little digital guides provided that pick up sensors in the floor surrounding each exhibition display to the range of bowie material but i found the museums signs that were arranged around the exhibition starting with the line, 'bowie is..? very off putting, mostly these were obvious statements and all were subjective. it's enough to say bowie is the single most influential artist of the 20th century rather than spell out the sound bytes and pr lines.
there were costumes and photographs but mostly these can be seen on the net, there were some recordings of bowie and visconti in the studio chatting away and there were lots of rare footage of concerts and snippets from his films. the rooms were packed out, lot's off people from all over the world, everyone in awe of the other, for this is an iconic figure that transcends generations and has touched us all in some way.
i think i'll revisit next week and have a closer look, but i felt satisfied that it was an excellent all round testimonial to his art and influence. 
the no cameras or photography was a bit sad but jake managed to sneak one shot.  

london gives thanks to david bowie at the victoria and albert museum, the man who single handedly influenced a generation all over the world is celebrated in a wonderful display of his art.
i wander around quite emotional at the memories i share with everyone else there, we gaze at the costumes, the videos, the memories of our youth, it's a unique event and executed surprisingly well.  
i gaze at the photograph of him sitting with burroughs, you wonder at the meeting off these two minds, the way bowie wrote diamond dogs, these two people are my generations greatest artists in my opinion, iconoclasts.
so the morning frittered away wandering around this temple, the ultimate homage, even jakob is enthralled by some of the displays and the costumes and off course his music has something for everyone. 
we exit and head into the city where he introduces me to his work colleagues, a lovely team, i talk books with one lady who has read john burdett, so we talk for a while. the others all seem really great and make an interesting team. i'm not one for pride but i am very happy jakob found his place in the world he loves, fashion is his passion, and he's living his own life now.
he takes me over to london fields where we meet up with his friends, wow, we have fun, i'm in hysterics, my jaw aches from laughing, he's in good company, his friends seem intelligent and switched on, they are creative and forging their lives in a new country. it's strange i was once a pioneer, now he is, our roles have taken on an inverse paralleled course.
i wonder what there is for me in australia, apart from my animals.
london has changed, it's not the city i knew, it's so much more vital and the energy is fantastic. 
i even discover a strange shop called 'the last tuesday society' and declare that it is a 'cabinet of curiosity' to which the proprieter, a thin middle aged man in a purple velvet suit declares, 'yes that's exactly what this is.'

http://www.thelasttuesdaysociety.org/

we enter and immediately discover a world of weirdness, a bizarre collection of mutations, oddities and horrors. i discover a biography on austin spare and buy a copy.
what a satisfying day, we catch the jubilee line to it's northern point exhausted

fuck this and bless that, the hip priest chops it all down. division, split infinity, 'that's a mighty big call brother,' some goon says but the hip priest don't care, he's plugged in his old jazz muse and strums some rare chord, like a vibrating echo, it's fired itself into the cosmos searching for an ear.
they say he's like your favorite uncle, they say he's eccentric and wise, they say he is a genius and a beast, they say he is divinity and they say he will burn at the stake with his heathen sisters. i've always liked him, felt a strange irresistible gravity, as i spiraled on my crash course, i always, thought i'd like to catch a flame from that fire but i fear being burnt alive. anyway's old mission moves on, slides across the road trips and the negative vibes, chopping up your cynical jibes and your subtle threat, he scoffs at the world leaders, the lunatic fringe are the majority in this upside down world, it's the repatriation of the new normal, orwell saw the future, he wrote the book. big brother big sister, who cares, they watch you scream in room filled with rats ready to gnaw out your eyeballs, they fill your mind with the heavy memes, the government is a global entity, you're life a commodity  your art a number, your thoughts implanted, originality is the enemy, don't be a sheep, don't be a lamb, don't be a fish, don't be a bee. be beyond programmed. but those rats have sharp teeth and room 101 is the world now.

london, north end, jubilee line, icy cool edge to the evening, i'm wrapped up in my dads track pants and black jacket, looking like a dealer of nightmares, or a guy hiding out from a gang of russian thugs, over tired nerves oscillating between states, i fight weariness and fatigue on the inside, searing pain, intense throb of some weird back issue ripples down my stern all movement is torturous, while on the outside im looking like a man waiting for my man, here he comes all dressed in black, old captain mission backs away, darts behind a fence, then leaps out as the man emerges from the steps onto the street, i meet myself in this moment, i face my own self, the past comes down the line as jakob recognizing me and we share a huge hug. there's something wonderful to be said about the relationship between us, it could have gone either way but it went a different way and we understand one another and that love that a father has for a his son does come back in the love a son has for his father, it's all justice and the sun in my tarot pack.
it's an elegant moment, jake inhabits the world from my own past, he knows more about me, my history, he's neither tethered to his mother or influenced by propaganda, he's getting a big picture and the picture is getting him, this is divinity, he takes responsibility, it's a wonderful thing to behold. divorced men with children have a hard time, i could write some bitter tales of friends and my own, but i have always had that faith that eventually the child grows up and asks his own questions, makes their own judgement's and see's the wider perspective about what's what and who's who.
london has cleaned itself up, the city is vibrant, cafes and interesting shops everywhere, the people swarm, i've forgotten all the people, people from every place you can imagine, speaking different languages, the mix and match ethnicity is exciting, it shows how colloquial australia really is. if only the climate matched i would consider a move, especially if our current prime minister returns next election. 
the political landscape here is divided, the population are now able to discuss and talk about immigration and multiculturalism without being arrested or thrown in jail by the thought police of the socialist regime that was labour. questions are being asked, for the dark side of multiculturalism exists in the crime statistics, the ghetto communities and the no go zones, the dual legal systems, the meme wars and the discord. england on the cusp of accepting under an europian parliament, one million romanians and one million bulgarians, who require free housing, health and benefits. the country is a trillion in debt, the financial sustainability unreliable and the uk risks suffering the same fate as cyprus and greece, banks will cream the tax payer, those who managed to follow the rules will be punished for it and those that didn't rewarded, not that i care, i've always suggested that all is illusionary and the political process that was democracy no longer exists when you have big government. it's strange to watch people freeze to death as pensioners after they spent their lives contributing while the state provides everything for those that are newly arrived. it's not as though romania were at war, they just don't have the national health system or the welfare, i don't blame them coming here but i do see the pattern in socialist governments, destroy the fabric of borders and national identity, flood with sympathetic immigrant populations who will vote for the status quo rather than change it.
while the other arm of the state, the skools and universities systematically brainwash rather than educate thus dumbing people down to the level of drones.
agenda 21, the codex, the socialist engineering of europe with it's architects, the club of rome still pulling the strings will result in the one world government that most people still think is a crackpot conspiracy theory. it will result in the governments having more controls over the masses, in fact the masses will ask for it as crime increases and social discord sweeps through. the meme wars will come to a head, fundamental islamic socialism, verses extreme western capitalism, and throw in the big unknown economic china and what you have is globalism reaching it's omega point. the outcome won't make a difference, because it's the same result, a small group of wealthy people hold power over people's lives, the club of rome may have started off with good intentions but the final result is hell on earth.
the human being is the ultimate cash crop, nothing more than a product. ask your falun gong, ask your little girl who just wants an education instead she is shot in the face by the taliban, ask your regular joe who is struggling just to pay their mortgage off while paying their tax on time watches their government spend it on stupid schemes and outdated ideas. globalization is not a human state, even ant colonies war, we are not hive minds, we cannot exist unless we are allowed individual freedom. the freedom not to impose our will upon others for starters. 
i watched the troops in afghanistan training a local police force and it was indeed a farce. these people are not ready for western values, they inhabit for better of worse a different time, they are prehistoric in some sense  no value attached to that judgement, it's just clear as day, i've said it before and i'll say it again, the war that exists in the middle east is a war over times, a small minority who embrace, individuality, sex, female energy, technology, rock and roll and the spirit of evolution vs the collective tribal meme that don't.
i've traveled through the middle east and it functions under a different law than the rest of the world, inflicting our standards upon it will fail.
well london is calling, i have to drag myself to the hospital get my back pain checked out.
thoughts today go out to iain m banks one of my fave writers who has only months to live, iain, thanks for the culture man, i spend a lot of time in that world, some of the best science fiction ever, a true socialist ideal and one day maybe human beings will be ready for it. if you have not read anything by mr. banks start with complicity, dead air and then begin the culture series with consider phlebas. you're spirit will live on iain.


  

all over the ants nest people getting human blues, kidnappers sign their own slow death warrant, some terror group decide to become a performance art group and get government funding to invade a small country and steal some resources, they call it artwar and you can donate by paypal, a children's hospital get's closed down for dealing banned ammunition and sophisticated explosive devices disguised as stuffed animals, supermarkets sell human meat in cans called baked beings, the great capitalist experience turns organs into commodities, you can buy or sell organs on e bay, some smart people realised the zombie apocalypse happened in the eighties. 
experimental spirituality, trans-humanity crashes into alien technology, some wayward teen has to dramatically exit and decides to take out half his skool, war zones in the high street, low flying jet slams into some city skyscraper sending a trail of smoke into the lungs of the glamorous models in their designer evening wear, ruining their cat skin shoes and voodoo hairdo's. the battle for your mind, the war against truth, the conflict of the paradox, the arguments of contradiction, yeah the fabulous circus is just another theatre of absurd, business as usual.
i was freelancing back in those days, working cases for high bidders, mostly rich women nervous about cheating husbands and their mistresses. dirty work, but everyone's dirty if you look close enough. i was looking under the microscope, things were ugly. it was directly proportional to the population, more people more ugliness, i needed to get out, get out fast. 
my saving plan was based around a small island outside the rim, trees, a beach, some clean water, the generic getaway plan was just around the next corner, a few more credits, an inch away, maybe one more case.

the old cafe was my office, i didn't even have a phone, clients who needed me knew how to find me, that was just the way i worked it. no phone no digital tail, no trail no clowns from the government chasing me, no clowns from the government means less stress more freedom and zero accountability. that's the space i like to live in.
i was leafing through a newspaper, same old stuff, i saw global conflicts, corruption and human degradation, mostly just opinion pieces and a tv guide. i flicked through the guide wondering what they show to people these days, mostly stuff i'd never heard of, reality shows, shows where you compete to start a new religion, infiltration shows, where individuals ingraine themselves close to a stranger, grooming and becoming friends, finding out all their personal secrets and then exposing them, there were tv shows where people assassinate victims, and the best assignation becomes a professional, there were shows based around relationship damage, where each individual competed against their partner to see who could fuck up the others life better. on it went, reality tv.
the old lady came over and handed me a latte, she threw an envelope at me, 'some lady left this for you.'
i threw the paper down and looked at the envelope, white, plain, no markings, not even my name. i opened it, pulling out a single square of paper.

my first thought was a phone number, but then it dawned on me i was holding a magic square. 15, what the hell, magic squares, who used magic squares nowadays, these types of sigils were prehistoric.

the old lady came at me with another coffee, she noticed the square and picked it up, she looked at it and smiled, 'ahh lo shu, i know this, it's lo shu.'

'loo shoe,' what the hell's loo shoe.'

'not loo shoe, lo shu captain, chinese. chinese square, gives power over water.'

she smiled at me as though i was a dumb beast, i must have looked like one as i had no idea what she meant. she continues, 'originally gift from turtle to emperor, numbers dots on shell shell. very famous folk story in old days.'

the dumb look remained, she knew it was a loosing battle, 'keep safe, protection from water, good sign.'

'madam wu, who left this for me?'

'tall lady, nice shoes, hat, fur coat.'
'when was she here?'
'yesterday, she chinese lady, we speak chinese, she like my soup.'
i flicked through some metal processes, the easiest solution was the 15, i figured it would equate to 3pm, a time to meet the chinese lady. that gave me nearly two hours.
i smoked some weed and ordered some food, watched the crowds walk by.
she was on time, walked into the cafe dressed in some sort of oriental outfit, looked glamourous and elegant, she was young, wealthy, i could tell by the fact she was wearing a thing string of huge pearls around her neck, plus the waiting limo outside had a chauffeur sitting patiently.
'captain mission, thank you for meeting me,' she sits down. i nod to mrs. whu, she potters off into the back room.
'it would have been easier to just write the time down, what's with the square?'
she looks at me intently, 'i need to be certain your reputation is accurate, i require your services.'
'oh so it was a test.'
'yes, a test, a challenge.'
wu comes out with some fresh tea and places a quaint cup and saucer down for the woman, then she bows and leaves us. i pour, 'okay well i assume i passed, let's talk.'
my name is mrs lee, my father is missing, he is the director of dragon pharmaceuticals. i received note from kidnappers, they want 50 million credits. they also sent me his finger, with his wedding ring. these people have given me one week, if i go to police they ask questions. so i am here.'
'you want me to get him back?'
'no, i want you to be my liaison, deliver a message to the kidnappers.'
'i see. you want me to take the 50 million to them and bring your father back.'
'no, i don't want my father back. i need you to go and tell them i am not interested in the return of my father. then kill them.'
'err i don't do assassinations ms lee.'
'well deliver the message, it's of no consequence if they live or die.'
'ms lee, what about your father?'
'he's old, outlived his peers, his wife and most of his friends. the company is mine, i don't see why i should give his kidnappers money. they are not very smart, they should have kidnapped me.'
'it's all about investments with you people isn't it.'
'yes, i'm willing to invest 50 thousand credits in your capacity to get the job done.'
i nodded, 50 thousand credits would get me over the line, it's a cruel world.
she reaches into her bag and pulls out a small m stick, everything you need to know is on this. she sips her tea and sighs, 'i have so much to do, my hair, my nails and a session with my transactional therapist, there are not enough hours in the day.'

when she leaves i wonder what its like to be the heiress of a massive industry, to have so much money you can do almost anything including allow your family members to die, it's inversely proportional to any sense of decency i thought. that was the real resource in the world, the one falling commodity people should invest in. but whatever evil energy lurks in the world at the moment crushes the decent qualities, its dog eat god in this hell of a city.

the memory stick shows a map, with a cross on the meeting place and the time, midnight. i'm driving over there now in a borrowed car, my display shows me the best route, the traffic conditions and a soft female voice whispers the directions, on the screen i swipe along to the photograph of the finger, the ring is beautiful, it's in strange conflict with the disembodied finger. 

i pull up outside a dark warehouse, it's in the middle of the waste district, the stink is awful, rotting fish, the sound of water running, a few lights on the river but otherwise it's desolate and empty. i wander up to the side door and ring the bell as instructed. 
the door stays shut but an envelope slides out from under it. 
i pick it up and take it back to the car. 
it contains a key and a typed address, a hotel room, in the city. 
it's started raining, it's raining and cold, i adjust the heating and program the directions into the cars auto drive. i request some music, some music plays, 'guilt trip.' 
the music starts, the sound system is excellent. eta 2 hours, i sit back and close my eyes.
the hotel is high end, only the super elite could afford to stay here, it's the type of place a royal family would stay, high ceilings, marble, servants to catch your ash and wipe the sweat from your brow, the chandelier was worth more than most streets in the city.
i went over to the lift and a woman in a red uniform asked me what floor i required, 'penthouse suite seven.'
we rise up, i don't know how high but the journey lasts several minites, there are no stops along the way, just a fluid ascension until a gentle 'ping' announces our arrival. the doors slide open and i step into a door way, opposite a beautiful ornate door. 
i slide the key in, it's a swipe key, the panel lights up and the door opens.
gagged and bound in a chair sits an old man, he's dressed in a black suit and at his neck is a samurai sword. the wielder of the sword, invites me in.
'you have the credit.'
'no. she won't pay.'
the swordsman throws down the sword, he unties the old man. he makes an adjustment to his tie, i notice the hand missing a finger. the old man mr lee has a face that looks like crushed paper, his skin is dark, his eyes indicate the fire of intelligence. i'd done my homework, he was a smart guy, building up his drug empire by the book, everything about him was legit, except for the fact he dealt in pharmaceuticals and had a legit trail, those two just cancel one another out, my instincts were screaming something was not quite right, their trail was covered up to well, no blemishes. 
'mr.lee, your daughter refused to pay the ransom, i am sorry.'
a thin smile breaks out across his face, 'yes i trained her well, she must be congratulated.'
he stands up and smiles at his assailant, 'dr. jones, let's break out the henry the fifth. three glasses.'
'yes sir,' the dr says as he wanders over to the bar.
'you will enjoy this captain mission, it's heratige cognac, very special.'
'i don't drink. if you don't mind i rather smoke a joint.'
'whatever you like, i must thank you for acting on my daughters behalf.'
'she is paying me quite a lot of money.'
'yes my money, but she did do the correct thing and passed my test.'
'test?'
'yes i am not going to let my only daughter take over my company unless she can run it ruthlessly, so i devised a ruthless test, and as you can see, she passed with flying colours.'
my brain throws out one single thought, i should have charged more, double even. then i wonder if that's a morally correct response.
'well i'm glad everyone is happy but it must have been difficult loosing the finger.'
'dr. lee is a very skilled surgeon, he made the procedure painless, as i am sure he will extent the courtesy to you mr. mission.'
'i take it i won't be paid?'
'really mr. mission, have a last drink before dr. lee throws you in the river.'
'i don't drink.
the doctor smiles he picks up his sword. 

down at the river the dr walks me into a small power boat, he has my hands tied behind my back. we sit opposite one another, he starts talking.
'i will give you these pills, they will make everything painless, drowning will be peaceful. you wont even notice. the river will take you out to sea, your body will be washed up in a week or so but it won't be complete, the sea creatures will have dealt with most of the flesh, but i must say, you will be the best dressed corpse. now start taking the pills.'
he throws me the bottle, but i can't catch them, my hands are behind my back tied. 
realising his mistake he leans in to pick them up and i bring my knee into his face. 
the skirmish lasts seconds, he's weak and overpowering him should be childs play, however the motion of the boat is a leveller, he is screaming and comes at me, we both plunge into the water.
it's cold, my brain seems to kick start itself, fear and panic morph into a survival instinct, it's hard to know which way is up, the currents move me, i feel my lungs holding on, did i get a good gulp of oxygen before i get swallowed by the toxic flood, how long will it last, a few seconds and i'll be gone. i attempt to get my hands free but i can't, the binding is far to tight, i kick away desperately, one final burst of energy, it feels better to act than do nothing, it feels like the right thing to do. a shadow moves past me, it's the doctor, he's going in the opposite direction, swimming with his arms free, swimming where. one of us will make it, i can feel my lungs bursting now, my body ache.

the taste of blood, i've lost a tooth, my face feels numb, i open my eyes, i'm onshore, washed up, it's a miracle, i pull myself up, it's still night. i walk towards the lights.
when morning comes i'm outside the coffee shop, madam wu opens up and let's me inside. i sit down while she makes some coffee, emptying my pockets, everything soaking wet and stinking of the polluted river.
i pull out the magic square, lo shu, power over water.
'yellow magic saved my skin ms wu.'
'i'm making you a broth, i get you a blanket.'
i contemplate my options, retirement is overdue, i just need one more case.

  

  

my reptiles greet me, they run towards me as i open my front door, i hand out the banana , everyone gets a piece. i watch them scurry to their spots dragging a mouthful of banana, which they eat surprisingly fast and then spend the rest of the day basking in the sun.
sounds like a good plan, see animals are our teachers, don't underestimate or eat them.

the process of magickal thought should lead to the eradication of all parasitic energies, including the enlightenment of enlightenment, that to must be discarded for practical purposes lest it will lead to tears.

egoless, the magickian can start to subvert reality towards his or her inclination. we are not talking about absurdities here, this universe conforms to a handful of laws. i allude to probability. repeatable results act as a litmus test.

true will will always be constructive in the mind of a smart magickian, which is why the process of mysticism is so very valued, a mistake that many practitioners make. will must conform to the will of the universe, which in my own experience is based upon love, imagination, art and play.

I WOULDN'T KNOW - KILBEY and KENNEDY

here's a taste from k and k's next cd release, it's magnificent, i want it to go on for ever, a perfect combination of music and words, that transcend. a song should take you out from your body and this one does, it's perfect and i really love the video that goes with it.

BOWIE (from outside outtakes)

http://youtu.be/AOiogRepP3Y


i'd really like to hear the 'outside' cd as a complete work with the songs playing out the way bowie wanted them instead of virgin, his new label, demanding a new recording. yes that's correct, they refused bowie the release. unbelievable! 
some of it's out there, on bootlegs but not the complete outside as bowie and eno conceived it.

the government today proved itself as an inept combination of bubbling fools desperate for power and completely removed from the mood of the electorate and the people it is supposed to represent. the vote of no confidence called by the opposition is exactly what the public require, believe me labour will be wiped out, the greens will be demolished for decades after the fiasco of their dumb attempts to gag media, and then today the leadership challenge that didn't happen.
australia is not europe and as much as these fools in government want to align us with european political trends they are not convincing the public who have become skeptical of the orwellian motives, political correctness gone mad, government media control, the tax on carbon dioxide, the massive effects these things have on the cost of living, the wasted schemes and stupid big government ideas of the left have left us in a huge debt that will take years to get out of and it's trashed the country with it's divisive public relations, calling it's detractors misogynist, the double standards of the current prime minister is something even it's supporters, hard core labour voters have turned away from. 
it appears the only people who support the government are the abc commentators who host their current affairs shows and write on their web sites, the usual brain dead commentary.
the letter writers in the sydney morning herald are just as narrow minded, supporting the government as it destroys australia because they fear tony abbot so much.
yet the man they fear is a completely different beast from the labour people, and the greens, yeah he's old fashioned in his values but at least he has some principle. he's a volunteer surf life guard and turns up every sunday for his duty, yet they ridicule him for wearing budgie smugglers, well perhaps when they are drowning or caught in a rip they may reconsider his costume. he's a man who has been a volunteer bush fire man for the last 10 years, and the labour party say it's just a media stunt. 
yeah the man labour and the greens hate has done more for aboriginal communities than all of them put together, not by throwing cash at the problem but by living with them and experiencing the culture from the inside. 
the left wing are so brainwashed and blind they can't see the woods for the trees, the people want an election, not a circus, we want a government that leads with a clear vision, not a harebrained reform based on the remnants of communism.

gazing across the bushland, the australian wild, animals abound, life just breaths here, some vital expression that makes this planet so beautiful. my centre is vital, i generate the impulse of dna diversity, my consciousness knows no bounds, nothing, time or space are figments, all life is one expression, all creation is one creation, it's the fractal equation. 

at a base level the survival impulse must come first, the base charkra initially has it's own will, it must be met by the heart, the solar plexus turns energy into matter, intention must be pure, the blue for communication, find the medium for expression, the one that works for your spirit, the third eye will develop as consciousness expands and the nature of reality is revealed, eventually the crown activates and opens and the illusion of duality is shattered. 

this is the quantum world, we have entered quantum time, the observer and the observed are the same thing, one cannot be perceived without the other, both are maya, everything is permitted nothing is true. 

years ago i read david mitchell's ghostwritten wich i think is one of the best novels ever written, then i read cloud atlas, and that was even better. 
there's a whole group of literature that i've enjoyed over the years that is probably impossible to translate into film, it doesn't often work. croninberg did it with cosmopolis and naked lunch, sam mendes did it with the english patient, peter jackson with tolkien and then the wachowski's come along with their adaptation of cloud atlas.
this is an incredible film, intelligently transposed for film, its long, just under three hours but it's brilliant and despite the brutality in parts, despite the tragic story lines, it's incredibly validating of the human spirit and the only film i've seen in a long long time that one exits joyously. 
it's a complex story with complex themes but so close to the nature of human experience and why we suffer towards liberation, i wanted to just hug everyone in the world.

the waterboys live in germany

procrastinating i sip away to the dreams of some nebulas dimension, they swallow up my thoughts of trail and retribution. the laws of physics don't quite work the way they usually do, slight discrepancy in thought and expression, it's the penumbra of uncertainty flooding through every door you open and behind every one you close.
i watched a film about men in hats who move between doorways, jumping into this world outta that world, adjusting things, like an angelic bureaucracy, 'you think you have free will but it's just an illusion of free will' one character says.
but even i don't care, i just want some soft oblivion today, in this strange sleep where things add up to nothing.

my brother martin visits me, it's just for a day, he's been travelling through india, researching my family who where shipwrecked there many generations ago after fleeing from the destruction of the temple in jerusalem (the second one) i guess they were not good sailors, i wonder where they were going?
anyways the survivors were a bunch of my descendants and went on to become some kinda jewish hindu hybrid. martin tells tales of fakirs, mystics and healers, he talks about our great great grandfather being a composer of kirtan, all these things resonate with me, for many years i have written about this in my blog, intuition connected me to the temple of solomon, healing close to my heart as a social worker and music manifested itself late in life with 'snuff music' being something of a devotional piece ultimately climaxing in the mantra 'om sri jaya rama om' which would translate as 'liberation for the true self'
all these unusual elements lurking embedded in my own dna now confirmed by my lineage, i think even my brother was shocked. 
i can't concern myself with past events, history and reflection, these are ripples and one must remained unattached to them as they wash over, but i am human and i found a certain validation in his message. 

anamnesis

the stars are out - BOWIE

loving the new bowie cd, the next day from it's opening bars of the familiar 'repitition' style guitars in 'the next day' to the wonderfully commercial 'boss of me' which a guardian reviewer panned for being to american in its content. the fact the guardian panned it on ideological grounds makes the album that much more better, for whatever integrity the guardian used to have it lost with me in the early eighties when it decided to hand over a whistleblower sarah tisdall to the government, yeah real integrity from the green socialist newspapers.

the album is rather brilliant, it's a slow burner with at least 30% being below what one expects from bowie. i really feel as if a trusted friend should have told him to leave out 4 tracks and keep the standard high and quantity less. but having said that the four tracks i would leave off are the ones that most people seem to be raving about.  
there's some interesting themes, school massacres explored in the wonderfully upbeat pop of 'valentines day' the stupidity of war in 'i rather be high' which has a wonderful chorus and of course the ideas of mortality, memory and fame (the stars are out) which i think has a very good short film to accompany it.  

the next day is a great comeback, very rich in lyric and production, very accessible for a new generation of fans and us old ones who always knew when bowie said 'retirement' he never meant permanent.

when i received the transmissions i firstly denied all knowledge and rejected them, no it's not my responsibility, it's just an hallucination, it's a mild psychotic breakdown man, it's stress related, it's fucking to many drugs, years of shamanics sending me nuts, it's old age creeping in, it's this it's that, but finally the voices began to boom with authority, and denial became acceptance and a reluctant devotion.
i say reluctant as a small part of my brain just was a fighter, it rejected and kicked, it screamed and howled and attempted to defiance, it's my inner deconstructionist.
but when the voice of god booms in-between your ears and fills your heart it's only a matter of time before you start to listen.
so i started slowley, working on my body, building the perfect vessel, doing my swimming, yoga, mental exercises, i transmuted my dna sharing the qualities of all lifeforms in this duality, invoking them inside my genetic code, and thus my ark contained all life, and thus when it came to the flooding my codes knew how to survive and what to do, for they were in tne with the natural ebbs and flows, the strange voice of god as it chattered away with it's plan i could not understand. eventually i realised automatic writing, a little knowledge of dr. dee, some variant of the enochian language, a little snippet from the apocrypha, oh yes, i learnt to listen through half closed eyes. 
'don't you see,' i would mutter to my wife, as i fed the unicorns, 'don't you understand, that we are the ark, our dna is life, that we must voyage as our experience floods,' i droned.
she looked blank and sympathetic at the same time, so i carried on, hoping one day she would get it.

yes we are, yes we can, yes yes yes, closer to the edge, yes yes yes, topographical oceanic yes yes yes i will, yes we will relayer your message, yes we can, yes we're going for the one, why, because we can.
thought forms focal point the house near the river, the bush shack dream abode by the beach, wild animals roaming around on that dead end street, the cool de sack, the cool oceanic breeze carrying news from nowhere, old nature knows no bounds, it just flows from now to now, station to station, and onwards the strange toiling human strive towards liberation, as old captain mission finds his place in the future history, yes we will. 
the plates rotate, the poles spin, the world follows it's beat, pulse signal to noise, think i'm going to drown in the white noise, think i'm going to swim across to the other shore, think i'm going to get to where i'm going, yes i can, yes i will, effortlessly.
it don't matter, one way or another, i got there, there's nowhere left to go, there's just somewhere.

in the old days magick was for outlaws, now its embraced by the popular culture, yet popular culture won't call it magick because by association magick is uncool, but magick is quite scientific in it's process, it must be tested under scientific conditions, repeated to give the same result, conditions must remain the same otherwise the result will vary.
herein lies a problem and why magick is tricky.
the condition of mind requires a discipline, this is fine tuned by the ritual and mediative aspects of the magickian, those old wizards knew what they were doing. 
those mantra chants, the yoga and visualisations all had purpose, the mind needs training, this is evident in all traditions, and the training is endless. the point is until one can not think of an elephant, when told not to think of an elephant, one is unprepared for magick to work effectively and therefore the results if any will be unpredictable. the lust for the result is also a mental exercise that requires discipline and training, for how can one enact an act of magick and not have a desire for a result, it's counter intuitive. yet counter intuition is the magickians currency, it's an abolishment of reason that gets the result. science folds back upon itself. 
if one uses astrology, one must accept that the universe and all it's components do not repeat themselves exactly, the variations are infinite yet the patterns may revolve. such approximations may result in different results, which is why it's known as chaos. 
the modern practitioner forgoes astrology for an internal alignment, quantum information.
the mind transcends single points, the position of a planet is never really in a single point anyway, it's part of a cosmic ballet, as we are. the chaos magickian would probably say something like, 'rocks n space only cast an influence if you want them to.'