Thursday, June 14, 2018

the rain ceases monday morning, and i'm met with bright sunlight streaming in through the portals. birds sing outside and the garden looks well nourished  inside my head i can feel something pounding, not quite a hangover, after all i just drunk a few mojitos but more a side effect of the implant. it takes a meditative practice to bring things under some manageable control. the throbbing falls from low threshold intense to a low comfortable humming, almost sub level. then i hear the call of them, it's an alien sound ancient and timeless like geology. 
i go through my morning ritual and then drive to the beach. it usually takes 5 minites, but today it takes 8 as it's a public holiday and there is a lot of slow moving traffic. 
the car is sounding sluggish, the interior needs a clean and it smells slightly damp. i'm stuck behind a merc 4 by 4 as it weaves along at a snails pace. when i overtake on the two lane stretch i see dr. riva in the driving seat. 
we meet outside the surf building, i'm already in my swimmers by the time she has parked and walked to the building.
'good morning,' she says.
'i need to get in the water, they are calling me.'
'well that's okay but i do need to run a few tests firsts.'
'what here?'
there's not many people on the waterfront but down on the street where all the cafes and shops are the crowds are buzzing. 
'it's all very discrete, look,' she holds up a small box with a strap, 'just put this on for a few seconds.'
i hold out my arm, and she wraps it around me upper arm as if taking blood pressure.
'did you know about the whale connection dr?' i ask.
'no, we had no idea what the in-qubit would do, i knew it was some sort of super computing unit, it's technology we can only guess at but the whales know it, it's obvious they recognise it.'
'recognise it, they worship it dr.'
'be careful captain mission, these are powerful forces.'
'it's a bit late now.'
i held my arm out for her to unstrap the device. she looked at the cube in her hand, nodded, 'okay, looks like every things working fine. i'll wait here and when you return i will need a repeat test.'
'okay, i can meet you at a coffee shop if you like?'
'no, here is good.'
i ran towards the water.

whales can communicate across oceans, in fact they can communicate across space and time, so there was no real need for me to be in the ocean but i felt it would be more authentic to be in the same environment. besides, the waves were particularly good, although the water had dropped a few degrees since my last surf. 
that familiar shock to the system, blood flows, head shakes residual thoughts as i swim out passed the buoy.
i tread water, sets of waves come in, they are crisp clean beautiful things and i dive under them and down there i hear them. 

i'm not an environmentalist in the modern way everyone else is, your hollywood types, pop stars and intellectuals. me i'm more ecologically wired. but i dig straight forward communication, straight talkers and the whales are very direct. they have been swimming around here for eons, the creator made man last as caretaker but we have been neglectful. these whales speak of the poison in their waters, the alien toxic poison infesting their world. it's not us, humans, it's our plastics. it's changing the element of water, killing life. the whales transmit in sound that carries an emotional information, it's a wave in itself as it washes over me. it's tragic, a deep sickness caused by stupidity hubris and    dumb thinking. i find myself totally moved by the suffering, not in an intellectual way but as if the sound of that grief is travelling right through my cells. 
when i surface i suck in the oxygen. it fills my lungs and i see the next wave. i reposition myself and return surfing in while my tears meet the ocean.

i'm sitting with dr. riva, she's taking her readings as i dry my hair with a towel. everything checks out, she's happy i am unharmed.
'what happened out there?'
i look at her intently, 'i'm an interventionist deity. i must act. the plastic is killing the whales and all ocean life. i must stop it.'
no more plastic. no plastic whatsoever. 

Thursday, June 07, 2018

i have an artificial implant in my neo cortex, it was installed a few days ago by the sydney technological university and the sydney university quantum computer dept.
it's a microscopic component called an in-qubit and involved some heavy invasive experimental  surgery preformed by a sexy indian lady who had an amazing aura. 
she's a neurosurgeon and interviewed me last week to see if i would be suitable. as i walked into her rooms i was blinded by the yellow light that seemed to radiate from her skin. those eyes were eyes that you drown in for eternity. 
i kinda froze momentary as soon as i saw her.

outside in her lush office i had sat reading a magazine she had on her coffee table. it was called, 'contact' and ran the byline 'extra terrestrial science.'
as i flicked through, looking at the photo's, i saw an article on people who had objects of extra terrestrial origins removed from their bodies. there was a photograph that featured a smiling dr. shiva. she was smiling at the camera with her perfect teeth and enigmatic eyes looking intelligent and glamorous at the same time. i started reading the  copy and jumped ahead to the section where they interviewed her. the piece was about the removal of alien tech from peoples bodies and what she does with it afterwards. 
"most of the objects are immediately sent to the govt research offices, some are sent to the usa, others are given to asio but occasionally i get an opportunity to play around with whatever i remove for a few weeks before i send them on, so as you can imagine i conduct my own research. in the last year we noticed an increased amount of activity, more people being referred than ever before.
usually it's hypnotherapists, doctors, or people referring themselves through their personal research but only a certain number of professionals subscribe to this reality, many think it absurd and part of conspiracy theory. therefore i fly low under the radar of quite a number of my peers. i don't usually speak about it at all as even publishers are filled with doubt, there are legal implications as well. so normally i am left alone, occasionally a publication like yours will ask me a few questions."
my name was called so i never finished the complete article, i threw the magazine down and walked towards the door.

i'm not quite sure what sequence things happened in, she asked me a few questions, i signed something and she walked me through to an operating room, where i changed into a hospital gown and lay upon a massive chair that stretched rights out almost flat. it immediately adjusted its size and wrapped itself around me, as a transparent lid seemed to descend.

then the reverse occurred, i saw the capule ascend and i got dressed again and was back in the waiting room.
i picked up the magazine and opened the pages looking for the article, when dr. shiva called me to her office. 
again i walked through the door and again struck by her auric field i froze, those eyes....

'there's a glitch,' the voice said, 'i'm trying to fix it. it will be okay, just relax.'
i was relaxed, in a warm loving void. all there was was a lovely voice, telling me to relax, and reminding me everything is fine.'
i was so light, and happy. just blissfully free to float with that voice, but it did feel as through someone was tugging me gently, pulling me against the flow. it didn't hurt or even really offer any other sensation, but a gentle discomforting microscopic act of resistance.
'we are fixing the glitch,' just relax, it's all natural responses and safe, all you need to do is let go.'
that bit was easy, i was sinking, further into this state but as i sunk, the resistance grew, until my eyes opened.

my body had not changed. it was still a basic skin suit but there were somethings about me that felt new, a throbbing in my head. 

she looked concerned,  'okay, your back with us, you should just relax, breath a bit and then we can debrief.'
i let out a very long breath. at the end i just said, i'm ready to debrief now.'

dr. shiva acknoledged my request, she sat down next to me. 
'you probably don't recall anything yet but we have installed a inqubit inside your neo-cortex. it was taken from a piece of technology we found in a wrecked ship that landed about 5 million years ago. we estimate the dating with the ice pack at a very deep level but its probably much older but the dating process gets a bit wobbly that far back as you can imagine. however that's just after the earth was created so we are talking ancient history. a team of archaeologists found it in the mountains of pakistan about 40 years ago but it took 39 years to work out what it was and how to use it. in theory at least.'
'why put it inside me?'
'you asked.'
'i did?'
'yeah, one of the side effects of the operation is a complete distortion of time, i'm afraid you will be like this for a few years until you gain control of the temporal abilities this device offers.'
'years, that's a bit frightening.'
'yeah, it is at first. however your data from the psychometrics suggest you can do it. that's why you were offered this opportunity.'
'so i am a human guinea pig?'
'yep, we are here to help.'
dr. shiva held up a few splash cards, random patterns that were designed to activate the inqubit. my head began to throb even harder, 'i don't think its working,' i mumbled, 'i feel weird...'
flashes of light, streaking at high velocity, was i moving or the world around me, where was dr. shiva, she no longer existed. 
the sound was a continuous drone, a wail, i could control the soundwave but not the light or strange sensation of movement.
i felt i was in a huge hallway, darkly lit, silence was a kind relief. then i felt the hallway fill with a presence, an intelligence overwhelmed my own. i met it head on. 
processing happened at no time, i was beyond space and time, my body dissolved away. when you leave one dimension behind and enter a new one, there is always a way back via the body, but now my body had gone i was just a mind. qubit generating portals and information gates, i could travel through an infinite choice. the one i was inside belonged to whale consciousness. the whales have their own gods, vastly different to our human ones. the whale gods slip into human mythology amongst polynesian, chinese and intuit cultures but generally they are altered to fit human symbolism, whereas whale consciousness does not recognise space and therefore time. whale consciousness is the oldest most authentic link to alien civilisation on earth. the space craft where my implant was found was here for the whales that existed at that time, they communed with them, they were the whale gods.
as i peered into the darkness i saw the thousands of whales staring back at me, dark shapes in many sizes, some huge some small, all with bright eyes. all sharing the same thought.
we have waited for your return.

in shock perhaps i am back in front of the strange symbol dr. shiva holds in front of me.
'fuck,' i say surprising the doctor and myself, 'i need a drink.'
'what happened?'
'i need a drink now, cold water and then i'm going back.'   
for some reason i seem to be attracting all the wrong people, i think i need a complete overhaul. 
recently a guy i work with confesses his belief that jews are aliens, an ancient race of lizard people whom want world domination  he suggests hitler was correct in his mass murder and efficient slaughter of them and that the rest need finishing off.
then i am confronted by a man i have known for at least 6 years whom says zionists are responsible for everything wrong with planet earth. he said he said the recent events in gaza prove they are only interested in shooting innocent children and what they really are after is blood to drink and worship their god with.
the next comment from another work colleague is jews go on about being chosen etc. she confesses a hatred towards them, and says they are to clever and therefore not to be trusted. later i find out she is a white supremacist and also hates black people. 
anyway, normally i avoid these boring subjects, i have been the recipient of this kind of attack all my life, being dark skinned is only slightly advantageous over being a jew. although i have very little interest in the religion itself, i like the mystical aspects and think it's a clever coherent system for transcendence but no more than others.
the chosen thing is an absurd hang up non jews seem to have, it does not mean chosen as a special person or race or religion, it means chosen to transmit a type of consciousness that suggests only one god exists in the universe and we are all part of it. all off us. if that is threatening to non jews then i'm at a loss to understand why.
admittedly jews have been their own worst enemy, often motivated by fear and conformity but generally zionists are a different kettle of fish, and they believe in a jewish homeland. yeah, it's very problematic because it gives haters the idea that they are colonising a piece of land they do not belong in, but historically this argument is racist if only used against jews and zionists. 
i'm so tired of dumb people arguing this conspiracy, it really is fucking boring and if you feel like i'm making it up ask yourself why ever since hamas confessed most of the people demonstrating were hamas did the media stop reporting. 
ask yourself why there has been no other reports about the attacks within isreal from hamas, currently bombarding the cities indiscriminately. it's obvious to me, the deck is stacked, it always has been and it always will until people start thinking for themselves. everyone hates jews, they always have and probably always will because they are conditioned to do so. zombies. 
the other great argument is jews are to powerful, they own this and that, although this is an absurd argument there is truth in the fact jews are very smart as their education in the home is based upon a culture of argument, discussion and critical thinking. it's a talmudic approach and it creates neural networks that out preform ambivalent home cultures. jews are diverse, they encompass a lot of thought and philosophy, there is nowhere the rich diversity of ideas exists than within israel. all the anti zionists who wank on endlessly about jews are either jealous or pathologically sick, for their hatred is based on a weakness of self. it must be unless you can prove to me it is not.

Saturday, June 02, 2018

apparently new laws fresh from europe about cookies have been passed and i am expected to do something with it. i am not sure what they are going on about but if you want to send me cookies you are welcome to.
i miss my friends olga and val, managed to catch up with them last week. it was a kooky evening, lot of laughs. the rest of life involves working, it's been very demanding. pressure is on to complete a course and my motivation is so very low, i just cannot find the motivation to engage although i wrote a very honest letter to them. no response yet and i am certain they will ignore me or sack me. 
i feel strange, outta whack with everything, outta synch with the world. i feel as if everything is held together with a piece of string, a toilet roll and a strip of sellotape. 
it's very strange.
yet something calls me, is drawing closer to me. i have family heading this way, nepalese and canadian, and  am glad off this. i feel like i need family for a while. 
also, my book is still pulsing along, although i am beset by an unease at my writing style  it's very inconstant a i'm attempting to find the voice within this novel. there are two, i almost have one but the other requires some consideration. so i am considering.
also there are a couple of 'bits' that require adjustments. it's coming along but i need more time away from work which is getting in the way.
home life is okay, gardens look good, rain tonight yay! 
the first day of winter was freezing, i just went to bed as soon as the sun sunk. early to rise.
i watched a show on video called 'tin star' with tim roth in the lead, it was a really engaging but brutal story, and i was in awe of  everything about it. i've always liked tim roth, he's a risky guy with his roles. here he plays a great character you love and then gradually hate. the cinematography is spectacular, and it has an excellent soundtrack. the story itself is similar to the techniques of the coen brothers and therefore worth watching just to see if i am right.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

time flexes it's muscle and i find myself two weeks behind where i should be left to my own devices. the glitch lays with me, as things slide away through my grasp. i always prescribed the idea the more you cling the more pain, so i let go off all things, including my own attachment to my thoughts. 
it's often seen as an impossible standard i have set myself, which is why i disappoint everyone but i have no desire to hold onto anything until i discover what is real.
i know some truths, mostly i know lies and deceptions. i know people want me to fail, i know human nature. it's not good, because it's built upon lies and deception, but occasionally glimmers of beauty shine through. 

Friday, May 11, 2018

obviously i cannot go anywhere with the russian lady, i have a policy never to play with anyone i work with, it's always been disastrous in my past. especially when it ends and jealousies arise, plus i really don't need any drama. so, i have had a week off work, i smashed my foot and it hurt like hell so i took a few days off. hobbling around, it still hurts a bit but i am being productive, my pond has a new look and is almost respectable. the fish are very happy. 
the back garden is doing very well my exotic plant life is almost a jungle. 
i have my big bookcase arriving next week which will require preparation, and a lot of lifting but hopefully it should transform my living environment, where books literally are everywhere. 
i have been working on my novel, its been flowing but i have hit a strange spot where i am self conscious about the conversation and dialogue in one part. i'm uncertain how writers work with areas of dialogue they find don't quite gel with the flow. i guess i just have to write it again and attempt to get inside the minds of the two characters. also the punctuation gets in the way, i know you require it to read a novel but it really is a pain in the ass, far to many rules in grammar that i don't comprehend. i guess this is a bit challenging. however i am happy with my productivity this week, it's been pretty respectable.    

Thursday, May 10, 2018

cute russian girl at work asks me out for lunch, it's a bombshell when she tells me she is married but she's very attractive and good company although she never lets me finish a conversation. it's okay, i have a lot of conversational topics and each one can be endless, so when someone asks me a question they need to understand i will answer it deeply. however she's just being polite, not really interested i think, bit bored with her life, i get that impression, she's smart and i have to stop staring at her breasts, i wonder if it's obvious. she's really lovely but dangerous my instinct says, i don't wanna end up in a compromising situation, the russian mafia chasing me down. 
she's talking about her journey to australia, it's strangely familiar. we eat at a very good restaurant  i'm not used to really posh places but this is excellent and i enjoy the quality of my salad. as i ramble onwards she asks me something which involves me telling her about my brain injury. she don't want to hear it, it makes her feel uncomfortable and she interrupts so the conversation comes to an end. 
later that evening she texts me, she wants to go out again, she said she enjoyed her afternoon with me. 
obviously i am happy. but i also feel a bit weird about this whole thing, maybe it's not for me. i don't want complex, it's to dramatic. i have a good situation now and don't want anything to change. it will change if i befriend this russian girl, although she has a perfect body, and she is smart. 
this whole thing was a surprise. i'm treading carefully. keeping a boundary up at all times, and keeping it platonic despite her nice curves. oh no! i'm a dead man.

Wednesday, May 09, 2018

on the fatebook i signed up to a few interesting esoteric groups, not because i figured i wanted to meet people or discuss anything but just as occasionally i may learn something but here's what i have learnt. a few years ago there was an idea called rule 34 which referred to the comments one reads on the net. it suggests that after a posting it only takes 34 comments before porn is posted. it's a reasonable idea, after all porn comprises off most of the internet. but there's a new rule i want to create, i call it 'rule 12' and it is based on any post that is constructed around these themes, political, spiritual, esoteric, economic, cultural or sometimes artistic. the rule 12 states that on almost any given topic some dumb commentator will post a comment alluding to some sort of conspiracy involving jews. 
i see it all the time, everywhere and usually leave the group after posting a response. i saw one this morning on a group ironically called 'closed minds never open doors' which was absolutely absurd. how can a group titled 'closed minds never open doors' come up with followers whom have such closed minds? 
it's pretty normal these days for everyone to hate jews, jeremy corbyn the nutcase loved by most of the dumbest people on earth is a raging anti jewish fascist, i knew this years ago when he celebrated with hamas and hezbollah the murder of jewish people, most people i know seemed to openly support him years later when he promised to take the uk back to the 70's. but people are insanely stupid. the internet is just a hologram of that fact. fatebook is filled with stupidity and moronic posts. people settle for the ignorant over the  wise, people are now so dumb they accept whatever feels good for them, whatever elevates their guilt, and often it's to blame someone else for it.
rule 12. watch out for it.   

Monday, May 07, 2018

what could be worse than a flesh eating bacteria, an insidious entropy if ever there was. i hear stories of such awful things, sometimes in cities, often in african villages or in far continents, on other planets, it does sound almost alien. 
but there is another sickness, the soul eating one, not caused by desease but society, culture and the lives we lead. the western sickness, despair, alienation, loneliness and fear. 
with the flesh eating illness the body is pumped full of morphine and antibiotics. doctors wear masks and gloves and keep you in isolation. occasionally the photograph hits the mainstream, or a news report and it's ugly and we close our eyes.
in modern cultures doctors are unaware of the soul eating illness and carriers inoculate themselves with consumption. we accumulate more, surround ourselves with stuff, fill our heads with junk and look desperate as we seek blame in some great constructed structure. often religion is the vaccination, some sort of spiritual connection with something. 
charlatans prey upon the weak, exploit the western sickness. they suck not blood but more of your soul. one should be very careful whom you let in close. their motivation is mostly unconscious  they know not what they do,only that they seek validation in your own undoing and misery, perhaps it makes you appear equal to them. 
only beauty can save us. only total dissolution of the self, of the selves of the boundaries that penetrate fear. death itself is the liberator although nobody wants to die, we should not fear it. 
the sickness of the soul feeds upon fear. we all are infected  only some acknowledge this and attempt to heal.
the witches say 'do no harm' and i like this idea in theory, but sometimes harm is necessary to counter a greater harm, we are not and never can be arbitrators of karma. only the universe can comprehend what acts are good and what acts are not. 
the zen masters say, 'do nothing' but even nothing is something. 
the christian says, 'choose love' but love only gets you so far.
the muslim says, 'surrender' but surrendering is fatalistic and therefore nihilistic and like all the above may have its place in short moments.
the jew says there is only 'one' dimension and within lay all the others.
the buddhist says, 'let go' but in the western sickness if you let go you fall into the abyss, for there are many steps before letting go a soul must aspire to. reincarnation has trajectory.
the atheist has such a closed mind they are far to late to save.
the agnostic is honest.
the magickian says nothing but knows all.
the western sickness occurs when dominant cultures and societies are fat, lazy and asleep at the wheel. they are over ripe with hubris and ego, masters of their worlds. ironically the western sickness strikes when the society is at it's healthiest.

Friday, May 04, 2018

to all ufo conspiracy fruitcakes  here's the truth. i'm going to give it to you straight. are you ready.
yes. ufo's are real. 
now what?
there is no point in holding a fucking conference, no point in telling everyone about it, no point in running around inventing stories about them. the point is we are living on earth and aliens have been amongst us for eons. there's nothing we can do, say or talk about until they reveal themselves so just keep calm. go about your business and contribute to humanity by doing something useful rather than having conferences about ufos and freaking out about them. 
i have a work colleague who seems obsessed with me, she writes hundreds of text messages and sends me photographs of dogs, food and  links to news that does not interest me, she phones me to inform me about insignificant trivial matters. 
i had a coffee today with almond milk
i saw a bat
i moved a piece of rock
i like cheese thats yellow.
bobs a bit weird.
mark needs to get more pants.
jenny says hi.
carolines nice.
it's endless, a stream of incoherent meaningless babble from a brain that desperately wants to be a writer or journalist or a film maker but only manages to talk rubbish most of the time. 
anyways she recently met a man who is some sort of ufo guru and she told me about him thinking i would like him, i don't. she told me not to tell him she had told me he was interested in ufo's. i didn't ever engage with the guy, he's not someone i want to get to know. however he approached me, knowing far to much about me, i asked how he knew this and was informed this girl had spoken to him. 
he was rude and intrusive, probing me about my book, and my music. i  felt very uncomfortable about the whole thing, being interrogated by ufo man left me feeling very bitter. i hate people who fucking think they know me, think they can just be my friend and have access to my ideas and personal information. it really pisses me off.
the girl is a twit. i have nothing in common with her other than i work with her, the ufo man is a twit as well, i wish she would get obsessed about him instead of me. 
the longer i spend in australia the more i realise how dumb the place actually i. it's so busy making fun of america it's lost any credibility as a serious player on the world stage. a country rich in resources that it sells to the highest bidder and buys back at an even higher price. a country where youth unemployment is so high the govt. won't mention it. a place where the population centres are now overcrowded and spilling onto the streets, under bridges and in caves. a place where every single institution is corrupt, functions at a low vibration and capacity and fulfils no duty whatsoever. a visionless place where the smart members of the population have moved overseas and left the bankers real estate agents lawyers and politicians to run the place into the ground. 
all the while, the australian public enjoy a selective cultural display that suits the agendas of the elites.
it's that time of the year again where the sydney literary festival is held and as i go to investigate what do i see, the usual suspects. abc journalists, sydney morning herald journalists and the politically correct wankers whom make no contribution to art other than sanctify what is safe and accessible for your consumption. 
not one inspirational intellect, not one alternative voice, not one. just like the film festival, the art festival and the food festival. the middle class champagne green socialist trendies in their non offensive tee shirts and non offensive haircuts and non offensive conversations have nothing to add except a social media hashtag expressing how much they care by virtue signalling.
no wonder i hardly ever go out anymore. where would i go to have my brain challenged and my mind expanded. where would i go to hear some thing different, a spark of genius and inspirational.
there is nothing here now, just the beach, the blue skies, the waves. 

Friday, April 27, 2018

the narcotic sex scent of elderberry mixed with absinthe, the strange impulsive flesh machinery, biological chemical but mostly neurological my impulse engine is throbbing captain.
i am orbiting a galaxy of desire. my thrusters are firing, penetrating new frontiers in pornographic details. 
the slow motion, fast action like a machine with it's over riding program, hacked and fire-walled, there's blood on the tracks, slaughter in the air. someone else inside me, someone could get skinned. 
my my, i just can't say know. 
i'm the beauty, she's the beast. 
night time, unreal time. i figure it all when i'm laying on the bed staring at the ceiling. it reminds me of my grandmothers home, high ceilings with some sort of intricate pattern blended into the design. 
for a while i just gaze at it thinking it is wooden and then painted over but i'm informed by my friend it's tin. and as she say's the word tin, she adds, faraday, which i mistake as far away. far away cage.
she's very smart, angelica, an old soul.
the strange thing about the cottage is we went for a walk, we started out early looking for a pizza place, but quickly became lost even though we knew we were only very close to the cottage. the more we walked the stranger the whole experience became, as every time we looked up, there were the same street names. two different ones. i suggested we find the main street and retrace our steps but we never got there, instead we just walked and walked in strange loops. 
i found a two dollar coin, i gave it to her. 
she found a two dollar coin and she gave it to me. 
when we got back to the cottage and the room we drunk two bottles of water each and smoked some weed.
conversations started in one place and spun in strange patterns and trajectories, i was spellbound by two things, the energy and the intellect, but there was a power in her mind i liked. 
we stayed in the far away cage until morning. 
when we departed and went our seperate ways i slipped into the other dimension, and it seemed so ordinary. 
your aids to evolution?
you steal things, you lie, you have a mighty ego. you seek conquest, you want adoration, you compete and spread rumour. these are your aids to your own evolution, not mine.
you never walked away from a partnership, you were abandoned. 
my evolution, man you would never even fathom it. 

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

i'm in the hyatt regency with my cousin, he's over from canada on an around the world tour and it's his first time in sydney. he's here for one day only and we are eating a massive breakfast, catching up. 
i want to show him the sights, as much as i can in a day so i'm already planning the important parts over coffee. we swap a few family stories, he tells me about his divorce and the fall out. 
divorce is always hard for the men, we are dumb stupid creatures in a marriage, get dependant and comfortable, start sliding into neglect, we cease thinking and fall into comfort zones and fluffy cotton wool dreams where everything is easy and if it gets to hard we have a wife to fall back on. 
i lived with these guys for a while, watched their family, it was never really going to work out, i knew that back then. however he needs a sympathetic friend and i being family i fall into the role.
later i tell him a truth i hope he appreciates.
when i stayed with them he was an animal, a heat seeking focused missile whose only target was making money. she spent it, he earns it. he was so obsessed nothing else mattered, i mean nothing. 
occasionally there are people who have these qualities, its psychotic in a way and something i wish i had, sometimes.
anyway you cannot have a healthy family life and pursue this business obsession at the same time, the two opposite energies, and one sacrifices the other. eventually both are damaged and because women are smart they have already planned for survival mechanisms in advance.
anyway he wants to live in sydney, he falls in love with the city, the women, the sun, the water, the lifestyle. he's in shock, most people don't understand the hedonistic pleasures sydney is geared up for. it's attractive, sensual and sexy, and everyone wants to live here. we take a boat out, i show him the opera house, the bridge some other landmarks. 
we walk around the opera house and he's amazed at its structure, we wander through the botanical gardens, we go up counterpoint tower, into world square and china town, back into darling harbour and cockle bay, towards bangaroo, where we have dinner.
it's a good day, i hope he does come out and live in sydney, he seems to really love the place. i know he is lonely in canada. he asks me all the time if i am lonely here on my own.
i say no, i'm very content in my own company and do not require people to make me happy.
he is envious, i see it in his eyes.
i remind him he has the money, whereas i struggle.
we say goodbye, he has a need to get the last word in, i guess being older he needs to feel responsible. i don't really have an attachment to ego so for me i can just smile but he's suffering. he is thinking about death and wants a clean slate with everyone,
i tell him to relax, by the time my slate is clean we will all be dead.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

couldn't get down this morning as i was in buddha cafe meeting these important peoples, and all day i felt this annoying money on my back, get back get back, get back in the surf. so i drove down in the afternoon and was surprised at the crowd, i went to park in a space and some girl who had driven passed the space and was some way ahead just reversed really quickly and wound down her window.
'oh that's my space.'
'have it, i am not going to fight over it.' i say all relaxed and chilled amicable like a buddha.
'i was here first, i want that space.'
'it's yours,' i repeat.
'getting angry now she says, 'i have shit i need to do today and i was here first.'
'we all have shit to do, why don't you park your car and let me drive away from you.'
'i was here first,' she yells out.
man i drive around the corner park and have a surf. my neighbour is in the water, we chat. there's a storm coming, big surf and chop. i'm catching a couple of waves and struggling with the rip.
later i wander through the car park, i see the ladies car in the space. it has a parking ticket, she was only allowed to stay there for 30 mins. 
that's the way it is with me sucker. i sit down opposite and have a drink and about twenty minites later she appears in her car at the exit where she has to give way. i can see the look of madness in her eyes, an angry fucked up unit of loathing. i smile at her when she sees me sitting opposite, you were there first, i whisper.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

it appears solid, yet it is just a cloud, dark and ominous hanging over the beach filling one half of the sky. the other half is ridiculously blue but the blazing sunlight cannot penetrate the dark cloud and the water in it's shadow threatens menace. 
there's three swimmers this morning, all hover near the shoreline as i pass them by wading out into the surprisingly warm water. no waves. 
it's all very dramatic and after yesterdays shark sighting people are nervous but we are surfers and the call of the water over rides every logical impulsion. 
forty minites later i'm drinking coffee in the sunlight, reading newspapers. the day is about to begin and it's not even 0700.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

the surf, every morning has been large but weak, not enough to propel me but big enough to play in, me and a handful of enthusiastic diggers whom have joined me. 
we splash around for an hour.
a big cloud blocks the sun and i swim in its shadow.
in that moment everything changes. some dormant sensory apparatus kicks in and i'm aware of my celestial place. my solar plexus opens up and drinks in electromagnetic radiation, feeding my cells, feeding my bones. i almost feel the spiral currents of bone breathing light, in it's strange dance through my body.
portals open up, communication channels appear clear, transmissions begin.
later i get a text from someone organising a ufo conference and another for a cosmic consciousness conference, they are promoting sone event, and ask if i will attend. i am not interested in these things, out grown them, and cynical of events and people. i notice the ticket is $400 and it's being held in byron bay.
'do aliens exist?' the banner asks.
well if you don't know now i guess you will always be asking that question. 
i delete the messages and dismiss the sender.
the industry of aliens, ufo's and consciousness has become absurd, filled with ego's and profits. not my cup of tea at all. 

Sunday, April 08, 2018

i've been in peculating mode with my novel, just sitting on the whole thing like an egg incubating. some ideas have arisen, slight changes, details and diversions. i'm going to start at the end, embellish some scenes and fill out some details. my editor is good, i trust her completely. she has good ideas and has been working hard on the first draft. 
i'm very excited about this.

Saturday, April 07, 2018

driving down at sunrise through early morning fog, the first blast of sunlight hits the car windscreen obliterating everything in a vast wash. i can no longer see the road, the trees, other cars and i know there is a cyclist in front somewhere so i have to slow down to a crawl. even the white line that informs my lane has vanished.
everything disappeared for about three minutes, i was lost. it was frightening, and strange. if i stopped a car behind me would drive into me, if i pulled over where would i go? 
i put my beam on but it disappeared into the white light, swallowed by the source of everything. how ironic. 
use the force mission, it's strong with you. it is, i did, and i found circumstances changed as the road curved around, and even though when i parked i faced the sun again it was not so bad.
once out there in the water the surf was massive, but weak, not great conditions. i did enjoy a splash and play but couldn't really catch any waves. the water was surprisingly warm, a few old people swam past and looked at me with my fin. 
the sun and the sea kickstarted my day. 

Thursday, April 05, 2018

the void has called me, through dream yoga. it obliterates the known like a devouring god. 
all thoughts are energy, and all thoughts of the void feed its growth. 

'you are alive, that means you have, a responsibility.'
'i'm not a super hero.'
'yes you are captain mission, you are captain mission.'
'afraid not. you have got confused along the way, it can happen. i've seen it occur many times, it's easy to get confused when you focus upon me, i'm a massive rorschach test.'
'stop it mission, stop fucking with me.'
'sorry babe, i know it's hard to accept but find someone else to focus upon.'
'fuck off mission.'

i'm the void, i devour you. my words and thoughts infiltrate your mind as it is weak and vulnerable. it is defenceless and filled with candy floss. it really wants to believe in all the nice things life has to offer, things like love, joy and bliss. but these are infants dreams. life is a howling storm of chaos and conflict and you protect yourself from the truth with idiot walls and ideals.

'but i believed in you.'
'you believe in your idea of me, but not in me. and that is the cause of your sickness.'
'i'm not sick! you have to have something to believe in, something to look forwards to, my grandfather always told me that.'
'i believe in death and life. i look forwards to both.'
'you are horrible.'
'no. i am free.'


Thursday, March 29, 2018

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

my review of 'the lebs' is this.
a man with 3 degrees wrote this book.
he's inspired by the fact his hero, an australian boxer trains while soiling himself.
he's inspired by gang rape and anti semitism, and hatred towards white civilisation and australian girls. 
there are moments where his words are great, and i confess the seed of a writer is apparent but 99% of this book is really fucking unreadable tripe and shame to the usual suspects, the publishers and university types who fuel this type of ideology. they should be sent to saudi arabia of venezuela to experience the utopia they aspire to. 
no doubt this moron will be offered a sydney peace prize by the idiots who seem in control of cultural group think. 
god help us all. 

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

recently i re read some peter f hamilton, 'great north road' followed by, 'pandoras star' and 'judas unchained. 
the gnr is a stand alone novel but the other two are part of a series called the commenwealth saga. the commonwealth being a universe we inhabit in the far future along with a few other alien races. 
within this universe wormhole travel is the method of movement from space to space and faster than light ships are not necessary. 
the main story is about a group of terrorist called the guardians whom are being chased by the authorities as they believe there is an hostile alien that has infiltrated the commonwealth and forcing it to war with a yet undiscovered alien race called the immotiles whom have been trapped in a dyson sphere by a mysterious force field which is released by an investigative team.
theres so much to like about the story, it's complex and intricate, the characters are all believable as is the technology and the various threads that all come together at the end.
i'm going to have a short break from hamilton and read 'the lebs' then i will return to his void trilogy.

Friday, March 23, 2018

i always hated the sydney writers festival  it should be called 'the left wing group think approach to what writing should be in a revolutionary framework for dummies.'
i went along to the university to catch three lectures and discussions which confirmed my absolute distaste for writers and publishers who manipulate the market through their self important lenses of distorted perceptions.
let's clarify.
first up are three young women publishers who all share a great interest in getting writers to get published, they go on about the submission process and the fucking way a writer and publisher has a special relationship. now this may occur in small publishing houses,  but let me tell you when i asked a permanent question that shocked the whole panel and made them withdraw into silence at the end of their talk. they were speechless.
i simply asked how much does the writer actually get from the sale of a book valued at AU$30 which is the average cost of a paperback here in the clever country.
the answer, reluctantly avoided by our experts was offered by an audience member at $2.50 to which i replied, 'then its similar to the music buisness, artists exploited for their talent but a bunch of marketers who sell.'
the panel just nodded and left.

next up was the young arab australian writer michael mohammed ahmad who was promoting his book, 'the lebs,' and while his energy and passion is great it's completely and dangerously misguided. he hates white culture, white people and white society. he's so filled with intellectual hate his three degrees and access to academic brainwashing are his fallback position when arguing his case.
i liked him, i liked his inner writer but basically his brain is controlled by ideologies that will never make humanity better, they always fail. he's just to far gone to see it. his hero is the australian boxer jeff fenich who trained so hard he shat his pants rather than leave his training program. he sees that as conviction whereas i see that as a glitch in his training. if jeff was so disciplined and in control he should have trained his bowels first not succumbed to soiling himself in a gym while training. it's not really what i consider a mark of respect, more of an indication of ignorance.  micheal puts back a lot into his 'black' community but it's antagonistic to white people, it's basically racist although mike can quote malcolm x as to why it is not. i would have preferred a writer who hates white people to say 'i'm racist, i hate white people' than someone to use an academic argument that is weak, out of space time, and irrelevant. 
i bought a copy of his book, when he signed it the first question he asked me was, 'what's your background brother?'
i told him i was from earth. 
but what i wanted to tell him was i am not your brother.

next up was a discussion with a group of internet news providers, which turned out to be nothing literary at all but a bunch of socialists having a platform to knock the usual suspects.
i tuned right out and at one point back in, only to hear one of the most respected internet journalists make an allegation about the australian newspaper in some articles it had been writing over the last two editions that was about debating societies at university. he suggested that the australian did not want women on them but he did not know i had read the pieces and he was misrepresenting, actually telling lies about the content. the australian was suggesting people are placed on panels as they have skills not because of their gender. it's a nuanced argument and there are vast and complex repercussions for women having a position based on being a woman rather than skill or talent. 
it really was pointless arguing with a room filled with zombies, i just ate some nice food they offered me and left with my mind made up, i would never step foot in a university again as they are crammed full with dumb people.    

Sunday, March 11, 2018

i've never been a big birthday kinda guy but on march 10 i celebrated my birthday by returning to work after being sick for a week. 
i was under the impression i was a year older than i actually am, thus i have gained a year, yes indeed. the best birthday present i could possibly have one would imagine. 

Thursday, February 22, 2018

after all these years, i have ended up where i am meant to be, in a unit i love, run by a great manager, a woman i really respect and admire, she's amazing. the ironic thing is our service is changing in march, it's being taken over. we are doomed. it's our last days, our dying days. 
i can't quite work out if i am unlucky or lucky. i arrive here six months ago  against my will, find it a great workplace and now in a few weeks it will be taken away. i'm unlucky. right?
but then maybe i am lucky to have found that place, even for a brief time it was amazing. my manager is amazing, and the clients are great. 
anyway. thinking about this paradox has sent me quite mad, lost my mind, my concentration is fucked, i'm so overwhelmed with paperwork, with reports i am failing in the total process of 'paperwork,' it's far to much in quantity, far to repetitive, and far to absurd.
however this lack of focus has given me a chance to do something i love doing, connect with one client and change their life.
so i am working with a guy in a wheelchair, and at first he wouldn't let me near him but he's got to know me now, and now we are friends. now there's a story of us, now i make changes, taking him from his old workshop into a new one. replacing his coke with beer, taking him out into the community for new experiences and adventures, pubs, bands and restaurants, he's doing normal things, making choices and smiling. 

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

people are so desperate to believe in something they believe anything.
'i love you,' he whispers in her ear lobe over the cocktails she has bought. she's already lent him two grand, what's a few drinks. i love you, is what she wants to hear, so like a key unlocking a door the petals in her bitter heart unfold and a secret timeline is revealed. it's the one where he takes her and her child, commits to them exclusively and saves her from the sadness she feels. the sadness because she is not beautiful, nor smart, nor flush with cash, after all she has been struggling with social services for years, lives with her parents, but she wants his love so bad she has already given him everything she has, even her flesh on that first night they met.
when he will not return her calls she starts that inevitable slide, further self loathing, further hurt, further sadness. her father yells at her, 'how could you give your savings to a stranger?'
her daughter looks at her wondering why they are unable to afford the cinema.
'why,' she cries, 'why?'

when i see her she is hostile, angry at me, the innocent, projecting and acting like a child. i buy her coffee as her anger slips from her tongue, her face contorted and eyes seeping rage. it deflects from me, and i watch her back cloud swallow her up. 
'i'll see you tomorrow,' she says and then when tomorrow comes she has gone. 

why? the answer is so obvious. i see it, we see it. why can't she?

Sunday, February 11, 2018


one of my fave albums, from another life. enjoy.

i must stop announcing things in advance, it's like a curse. 
i've noticed this when i proclaim on here, i'm going to read certain books, something always stops me. take a few posts ago when i said i would be reading herbert shelby, that has not happened, although i did read one short story. then i began something else, so i have to finish that. 
however i know shelby will hold some effect upon me. 

so yesterday evening was so perfect i took myself outside and returned into the water after a long time. 
the effect was instant. 
it was glorious, however neptune is angry with me. yeah really, i know these things. he says i must be disciplined and give him a commitment before he gives me his daughters.  he says, i must surf when ever possible. i must re devote myself to his energy, he was really fucking angry with me and made it known when i shut my eyes  and spoke with him. i understand that stuff, he's right, i was wrong.   

Friday, February 09, 2018

i was watching a clip of steely dan playing to a tiny audience, answering questions and telling stories. i was cast back to a radio show on capital radio where a guy played rock songs late at night, and i first heard steely dan. the show was called 'your mother wouldn't like it.'
anyway it was not until i heard 'haitian divorce' that i really liked their vibe, only because lyrically they were good story tellers. 'kid charlemagne' was a good one to.
i never understood what the hell 'divorce' was all about, but it had a great feel, part science fiction, part william burroughs and part sub tropical lust story. 
there's that weird processed guitar, check the fade out, the reggae groove and donald fagans amazing voice. 
later i found out it was about a period in time americans would travel down to haiti to get a divorce and remarry their girlfriends all in a weekend. 
apparently the haiti govt. made a killing arranging these divorce tourists holidays and apparently only one person had to turn up. all perfectly legal. so he's telling a story about a woman (babs)who travels down to split from her old man 'clean willy', gets divorced, picks up a guy (some charlie)  in a bar, and on return to the usa finds she is pregnant and gives birth.
it's a weird song man, but it's great, it's great because the lyrics  match the music. that's what makes a song great for me. 

Thursday, February 08, 2018

strange days have found us indeed, as we move from station to station, doctor to doctor, it takes me a while to find the one i want, i never use them unless i need a sick certificate and that's very rare. 
but the last few months i have been plagued by ill health, and my main man in the erina medical centre is not doing it for me. he's not really in tune with me at all. in fact he's outta whack with me utterly and completely. i gave him a few years and then recently move to the guy i take my clients to see, there's two of them and they are both very good. they both laugh a lot and keep things humorous between us, i can talk to them about anything, art, travelling to weird places, books and my work, they get what i do but they are old school doctors and come at everything with humour. anyway they fix me up with some x rays and ultra scans eventually discovering i have two torn ligaments but they do not address an underlaying issue i have. intuition has told me there's something else wrong, it's deeper, at the veins. i'm committed to my doctors but i know they just are not understanding me. 
that same week i notice a strange brown blemish upon my arm. being bombarded by awful cancer advertisements i freak and go to the sun doctors where i meet a very nice fijian / indian man who takes a biopsy. we make small talk and then he asks me about my legs.
he inspects them and tells me immediately what's going on and the implications, suggests i get a second opinion. i ask him if he knows a good doctor. he suggests a guy.
i'm in the surgery  it's filled with ice addicts and some derelicts from the local area. ice is big here on the central coast, it's nasty and i generally avoid it and it's users but here in the waiting room it's pouring out onto the floor. that energy is just not cool despite it's name. 
i'm in there for a long time, waiting, waiting waiting. i go through and meet a nurse whom asks me some weird questions, she's really nice, talkative. she's the frontline, a cool easy way, bright and someone i respect immediately.
she sends me through to see the doctor who informs me there's a councillor upstairs, a social worker and some other practitioner whom i can't recall. 
i smile to myself for some reason.
then the dr listens to me, i am just relaying the information the sun doctor gave me about my veins, i don't know what it all means and the doctor immediately conducts his own inspection and within seconds is making these referrals for tests.
the very next day i'm getting jabbed for blood, x rays shot full off iodine and shot through the doughnut machine. 
breathe the nurses say, breathe out. i take it all seriously, i'm outta my depth, how did i get in a doughnut machine, again!
however i'm kinda liking the idea of laying down and having a snooze. 
my eyes close. my body relaxes momentarily  as the nurses race into the room, pull the needles out from me and unbind my toes. (put there to keep my feet together for the scan)
'it's broken, the machine just broke.'
i open my eyes thinking off homer simpson and dougnuts and see the two girls fussing around. they say they have to do the whole test again.
i'm kinda chilled out, even as they jab me again and fill my body with iodine. the scan operates successfully this time. 
later they say i was a really good patient and i surmise they must get a lot of people freaking out but to be perfectly honest i'm very comfortable with doughnut machine. every few years i go for a ride in one.
it was a strange day, almost like going to the circus, except the rides are all designed by aliens who are probing for something that makes us humans human, only with me the doughnut machine met another alien and froze.   

Monday, February 05, 2018

i remember many years ago when i was travelling in new york, not the new york you know, this one was pre rudy giuliani, a different scene, one with a sharper edge, a harder kick. i was in queens and tuned in to lou reed talking about his fave writer, i think he was taking to william burroughs. anyway's he said 'last exit brooklyn' which i sought out when i had money again. 
i read it and was stunned, not just by the sheer brutal realism of the novel but the writing was immaculate. herbert selby jr had it, that quality of being a great writer.

what are they? for me they are energy. the words, the story have to have an energy, i guess that means it's got to speak to you, engage in your synapsis, heart and sexual organs. it has to turn you on, even if it's brutal and ugly. somewhere it has to capture your attention in some part of your body, guts, brain, cock. very few books capture them all.
i think i can tell when a writer puts everything they have into their book, i can tell by the story, the way it's told and how it effects the reader. everyone has a different experience of a book. my time with henri charriere aka papillon would be vastly different than yours. so we have to have some personal connection with what we read.  

selby was poor and struggled most of his life, only in later life did a new generation tune in to his work, films were made and his writing hit the wave of the new underground culture, still imbued with fringe credibility, now it was obscure post punk bands, filmmakers other writers and lou reed who seemed to acknowledge his work as influential.
i read that book in a couple of days, mind you that's all i did. page after page, it held me captive.
those characters  that life. nihilistic, the annihilation of it's savage trajectories as characters train wreckage lives were further crushed by savage humanity. 
when many years later i saw 'requiem' while being involved with a girl who was a character from the book, but was edited out for being to ridiculous. 
it was strange seeing all that addiction, processing my situation and relationship.  
so i'm about to re read some herbert selby jr. 
obviously some of that energy will find it way in these pages, be warned.

Friday, February 02, 2018

this planet is beautifully elegant, it absorbs the dead and sustains life, that's pretty freaking cool in my book. some cool humans know this, they see themselves as cultivators of this in the most practical of ways they quietly go about their business, gardening, landscaping, celebrating and respecting the idea. it's a great idea, only just a small part of it. the greater idea is to take the cosmic view  earth is just one element of a vast network of elements, within something we could never hope to comprehend. the real religion and spirituality is in the imagination, this is why imagination is so powerful and why some dark force of humanity wants to 'suppress' it.
the dark force is ideological. it's both religion and politics, which is to say most people attached to those constructs cannot see an idea as pure. they deconstruct it and project upon it, their opinion, critique of judgement. (yes, i am aware of the irony) 
the idea is just sold as a bad idea, and we are so conditioned by education we can't tell the difference. 
peace and love are good ideas. relaxing is a good idea. smoking weed is an excellent idea and sex is up there to. 
bad ideas, ideological ones. 

anyway's more news from mission control. 

the weather is back, well it's nowhere near as hot and strange as the last month. 
my garden is happy, the birds are out and i, thankfully feel fine.
energy levels are back, brain functioning reasonably well for an old model robot. i'm very old now as i have jumped through some sort of time displacement vortex. i must have done it when i was not smoking weed, never again. 
yeah this thing has sent me into my future self, an different one. a new mission. 
sometimes that happens, they wrote a book that describes it well, the time travellers wife, which is much better than the film. 
anyways, it's similar to dr. who now. i think that's what happens when you slide into your future self, you are wiser and more experienced with the whole condition.
so here i am in future mission, where i am paid a lot of money to generate ideas. it's the life i always wanted. complete freedom. financial freedom. 
that's the future life i was aiming for. 
what would i do?
that's a great question although obvious.
i would travel through space, time and mind much like i do now.


Saturday, January 27, 2018

something has changed and i'm not certain if it's me or the environment  the last month has been unbearably hot, no usually i bear it well, but for some reason it's knocked me back this december/ january.
i usually embrace summer but for the first time ever i'm just feeling like a languid washed up poet in an opium den. energy is low, bursts of wild thoughts, very little movement as i mostly lay upon a futon under a fan. incense burns, my brand is 'black magic' which i really enjoy and resonate with. not because i'm a black magickian but because the scent it spreads around my home is perfrect and conducive to my thoughts. mostly erotic fantasies and travels through new dimensions. 
sensual warm ones, the real scent of women, musk, cinnamon, traces of cloves and nutmeg but something else, heavy and human, sweat and sex.
the days slide into nights without any worlds between them, time travels much slower here, as though the very space it moves through is molasses. breathing requires additional effort, everything is slow, sound slows down, words and movement. 
memories fall between the  forgotten and lost. there's no innocent in this realm, we are all guilty of something but can't recall what it is we seek escape from. only a certain applied application in focused precision thought reveals it's ourselves. only to have that fundamental key is to unlock the pleasure of our indulgences. 
if we are lucky, in the evenings a slight breeze through mission control, you can hear it in the trees from afar, getting louder as it draws nearer, a wonderful short lived moment of fresh light air.
but the arms of the women, the sensational realm of pleasure in in deep. it flows through our hedonistic bones and blood, it clouds everything with it's beautiful painkilling afflictions. it's where we can loose ourselves for as long as we need. it's our safe spot, sometimes.