Friday, May 27, 2016

time for a new god. snake serpent, falcon or hawk the all seeing eye, the passing time. be it brother death and sister rebirth, the legion or the scorpion. burrower, ground dweller, air or sea, the influences cast upon the many. it is the age of the squid, the ouroboros as we eat ourselves in an act of political cannibalism.
who do you vote for?
i personally wouldn't recommend it as it only encourages them. don't buy that guilt trip or social responsibility, the games afoot. don't think about the value of your vote, it's rigged, the dead have just as much say as the living. just look at the electoral roll, people vote more than once, clusterfucks abound.
left or right involves marching somewhere. one foot in front of the other. do what we will you to do is the only law in the political maze. 
should the uk exit europe? it's a done deal, it don't matter how many anti establishment people say we should stay in, very few will notice that they are actually the establishment now, on the same side as the banks and big business. very few will notice that there is more freedom in independence than brussels unelected bureaucracy. eat your self now, save time. the game was rigged the moment you thought you had control.
  




Wednesday, May 25, 2016


i have just finished one of the best books i have read, not quite a fictional narrative but speculative, philosophical and natural history, plummets us to the world of the vampire squid and our relationship as humans to this incredible alien creature. man, it was a challenge to learn all those new words but i absolutely loved this book. not because it was an outstandingly interesting read which it is but because the writers have used their imagination and applied it so surgically towards a slice of reality we would never expose no matter how closely we look. it's an almost political treaty. i fucking love this book and i'm probably going to have to read it again a few times as theres so much information and ideas within that one single read is impossible to absorb it's richness. 


Tuesday, May 24, 2016

passed my first aid exam, lookout, i may just save your life.
i got hooked over the last month on an old show called 'northern exposure' it was on during the late eighties, early nineties. it's focused upon a new york jewish doctor who gets sent to a small alaskan town to work off his university fees, he's there for 4 years and although it looks at his culture shock it's also a meditation upon humanity. the characters are amazing, the script is so far ahead of its time it's only analogue is MASH despite being completely different. 
the dr. is the least likeable yet he's the person we would all relate to the most, being from a modern city and used to what we call civilisation he is riddled with insecurities and neuroses. but as all good stories his arc follows his change and gradual shift in nature.
man, i love this show, so many wonderful characters and ideas run through it, and despite being old it's subtext is as relevant as ever.  

i'm still ill, the whooping cough has a grip upon me, i have used various treatments the most effective being raw garlic. i eat massive amounts of organic garlic each morning, and it's really helped. 
i also managed to get a new car, my dream car the new XV which is a small miracle considering it came about in a strange yet typical way for me, on the very day i had to register my old car. anyway the XV has all mod cons and i'm really happy with it, except it is automatic not manual. 
so that's my story.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

the western civilisation 
superseded by the eastern illumination.
living on the fringes, eating radioactive cheese and dandelion soup, we were casting the i ching down in the crystal caves. i was listening to some 'jack frost' on my headphones, it was the third album, 'lost frost' a collection of found songs unearthed by the remaining member steve kilbey, it was the only music we could play due to a large magnetic storm that wiped out all digital information in 2019, somehow i had one album left on my device that would play without any interference, it was a miracle. the rest of my music had been reduced to short bursts of distorted song parts but mostly static, hiss and crackles, unlistenable. 
i was in my own world enjoying this soft escape but around me shaman and wizards were concentrating upon the castings and filling the cave with blue smoke that formed strange patterns in the air.
the old wizard with his long beard consulted an old book and passed me his burning spliff, 'hexagram one, the creative' he muttered. the shaman and his assistant seemed to confer but everyone knew it would end in a kiss, those crazy lovebirds couldn't help it, they were madly in love and were not ashamed off it. it was cool, we loved them for it.
'creative,' the old man whispered, he passed me the book.
i scanned the writing, and found the words, 'the movement of heaven is full of power. thus the superior man makes himself strong and vital.'
the cave fell silent, someone asked me what it means.
i considered the best way to answer, i cleared my mind, and let the words come.
'it means, success will come from the primal chaos of the universe and that everything depends upon us seeking 
happiness by perseverance in what is right, but we must maintain our 
spirit, keep it vital and healthy, free from contamination, 
we must be free from our mental conditioning, physically strong.'
i stood up and did a little jig, that baseline always makes me want to dance around. i walked out to the edge of our camp and looked out at the valley. dense jungle stretched down along the ravine and on the other side the wreckage of a city. mostly derelict and abandoned by bipedal life, it was said great slugs now inhabited the relics, slugs, worms and centipedes. we had seen many centipedes, bright coloured massive strange things, some covered in spikes and some furred, others were shiny and reflected light in a dull sheen of black. our hunters had brought back a very large carcass of one they had killed. the people that ate from it's flesh died awful deaths, long and endured suffering and vivid hallucinations tore the mind apart before the body. that was almost forty years ago, no one had ever returned to the city after that, and the wise ones said it was an evil place.
we cultivated fruit and vegetables, we ate no animal flesh except the occasional fish the watermen caught. 
i had eaten fish once, when i was a child, my uncle fed me a strip of smoked fish. it was salty and slightly strange, not something i would repeat but the lure of seeing the ocean was very strong, all those years i felt it, a gravitational force pulling me t the perimeter. the shaman said i could not leave the safety of the community until i had passed the elemental ritual. 
i had been given hexagram one, the creative. it was time to face the elemental. i inhaled the spliff and let the plant spirit guide me.

that night the community watched as i was prepared. bathed by the women, dressed by the girls, painted by them in black and purple, i walked out to the tribal elders, the chanting and drumming echoing out down into the valley below. stars held in place by the thick textures of night. it was perfect. i had no fear within me, only the need to complete my ordeals and take my place and title. 
the elemental rituals decipher ones place within the tribe and i had set my heart upon being a waterman which would mean i could explore the oceans, rivers and waterways. i knew i would not fish but i would discover new things, new possibilities for us. perhaps a new land. rumour had it there were floating land masses out there, places undiscovered. i would seek them and claim them for our community. 

the drums stopped and then the chant. i stood in silence and the shaman approached me with his crystals and smudge sticks. then he gave me the medicines, and i fell to my knees. 
first the wind came, it blew through my skin and lifted me up above the ground. i hovered there and when it stopped i fell upon my back.
then the earth covered me, ate me whole and although i struggled i knew resistance was futile as it filled my mouth and worms ate my flesh down to the bone. 
then came the fire and i was ash. it consumed everything i was, leaving dust.
and finally the water.
but it was not over. there was another ordeal, another element they called ether. we had very little knowledge of it, the wise people said it never manifests in ritual, it is elusive and reluctant, it is mysterious and unknowable. the last tribesman who had served the ether was lost in mythology and song, we sung his song sometimes but it was in an unknown language and no one really knew what it meant.
my flesh started to spilt apart, i could feel my atomic structures dissipate and the random natures of chaos tore my soul apart. i was everywhere, and nowhere, i was all and nothing. lightning bore down upon us, the heavens fell upon us, we were rendered in fear at the unknowable. even the shaman looked wide eyed and shocked. when i reassembled i was no longer myself. 
everything was silent, they walked around me as i caught my breath, they looked at my eyes, my teeth, my skin, my face, my feet and hands. i was panting, but my breathing was regular and became strong. i could feel my lungs engulf the air with a new vigour, my body pulsed with strength and power. the shaman approached and i asked him, 'am i a waterman now?'
'no. you are something else. a spirit of chaos.'
'chaos,' i said the word back, what is my role in this tribe shaman?'
'to destroy it.' he looked upon me as though seeing something for the first time, his face looked certain as though faced with an ultimatum from which there was only certainty.
    


Friday, May 13, 2016

i'm approached by an agent, they have been scouting for two days, cat and mouse, octopi and seahorse, they elude the obvious and therefore i have already made them.
i'm processing information, advice for the agent, 'hide in plain sight, never wear a primary colour, to make yourself invisible you must do much more than blend in, you must blend out,' but the advice fails to be uttered coherently as i am disengaged by her smile, it's very appealing and magnetic.
'you are very observant mr. mission.'
'it's just mission.'
'i took precautions, used all my skills,'
'i'm sorry, i have enhanced perception.'
'is that from magickal training?'
'no it's probably from psychedelics.'
we are in the street, face to face, she's starting to get nervous so i suggest a coffee shop i know.
inside we make ourselves comfortable, order our drinks. i lean in, 'you may as well just be honest with me.'
'yes i may as well be.'
'i work for humanitech, it's an artificial intelligence company that has the technology to upload people into a new body. we transplant their augmented brain and use nano technology to keep data stored inside it.'
'data?'
'yes behaviour patterns, thought processes, information on how the subject thinks. we do this for about ten years prior to death.'
'my brain is quite happy within this body at the moment.'
'ah. forgive me mr. mission, err mission, that's not why i am here.'
'oh. i assumed you must have been surveilling me to gather information?'
'well yes, but that was just to understand you beyond the dossiers i have read.'
we exchange a glance and she adds, 'interesting reading by the way.'
'so, what do you want?'
'help. we need your help.'
'how?'
'humani has been working for a decade, the team although small is incredibly powerful and has made great progress they are the best in their fields but we have hit upon a problem, a dilemma. a spiritual quandary mission. we have not considered two areas of the human experience in our planning.
'one would be karma.'
she leans back, surprised.
'yes, yes what are the implications?'
you would have to ask a buddhist monk or hindu mystic.'
'we have, they just smile but offer no solution.'
i smile. 
'please mission, what do you think about this?
'there are karmic issues involving the subject, personal karma, your intervention may be inhibiting the subjects path to enlightenment, but then again maybe it is the subjects path to become reborn as an artificial intelligence or replica, it is not for me to say. you can apply the same rule to your own karma, one cannot begin to comprehend the delicate machinations of what is right action with a brain that has limited understandings of such cosmic designs.'
'mmm, so the answer is you don't know.'
'no the answer is you don't know.'
'that will not help us at all.'
'your second enquiry is how do you map the subjects metaphysical intelligence. mapping consciousness is comparatively easy up against mapping the area of unconsciousness which is impossible no matter how much nano-tech you have at your disposal. but there is a way.'
'how?'
'transplanting the brain only gives you one single intelligence, but if you transplant the heart and the guts, you will have the three intelligent aspects of human beings. the heart is part of the intelligence system, our unconsciousness is connected to our heart which is why the electrical discharge of the heart is equal to the brains. but the gut, that's where we are all really controlled from. the gut is where various bacteria organise create colonies that also regulate the health of the entity and act as an instinctive intelligence,  therefore until you have replicated these patterns and intelligences one can conclude humani is a long way from creating immortality. however it may be limited to manufacturing cyborgs.'
'i don't think of them as cyborgs, they are more accurately described as facsimiles.'
'whatever they are, they are not real and therein lay's the problem.'
'you can say that about any art form.'
'art is an expression, you express less than the original with your facsimile's.
'so, you think the exercise is pointless?'
'no, i think it's worthwhile but you should be aware that what you are doing is diverging along a pathway that deviates from natures and therefore cannot be valued as real unless it is enhancing the divine and cosmic agendas. you invest belief in a science that is man made, reduced to our level of understanding through technology, but technology and biology are two different components.'
'but biology is a technology.'
'that's like saying a car has personality.'
we sit in a moment of silence, i can see her mind working behind her big open eyes. she sips a straw half submerged in a green drink made from vegetables.
'why didn't you order a coke?'
'i don't like sugary drinks, besides they are really unhealthy.'
i smile, and as i gaze between her eyes, clouds part, the grey fog of incomprehension begins to clear and light shines through.
'do you believe in god?'
'yes,' i say, i don't claim to know what form a god takes but i do believe in a principle at work within everything that has intelligence and direction. it has given us freedom and we create prisons.'
'like belief?'
 'all things are prisons unless they set you free.'
'are you free mission?'
'no more than anyone else but i can see the bars of my prison and that's something that offers me a different perspective.'
'do you remember what it was like, to be free?'
'yes, william blake describes it well. it was like being innocent.'
'child like'
'similar but with a wisdom. a kind of love for all things and less complex thinking processes.'
'we evolved.'
'yeah well evolution is basically being set free within our environmental limits. free will or determinism.'
'and i thought it was radiation effecting our genome.'
'through the prism of science i guess you could claim that to be true, but science has limits which is why mysticism is closely related to it. one day science will reach a point where it cancels itself out, scientists only speak in terms of mystics but with different words, different languages.' 
'it's been interesting talking with you, i guess i better make my report.'
'yes, i have to make mine to.'
surprise crosses her face, 'are you an agent as well?'
'yeah but i have know idea who my employer is. i just file my reports.'
she smiles, a little uncomfortably and leaves me sipping my coconut water. 

Thursday, May 12, 2016

slow crack seeps light into my morning, spilling from the horizon across yonder oceans. my penultimate blue circumstance finds me down on the shoreline, wading in shallow water in exultation of the source of light in this universe. it's dawn and the day is breaking out into perfection. colours bleed away into one another, the sound of the sea is the sound of living, blood circulates through my body, the ceaseless pulse as flesh meets spirit.
for a moment i inhabit all dimensions, if only i could stay like this, everywhere and nowhere, a vast explosion of now.
snap back mission, the elastic surface of consciousness pulls me back into another day. i wanna just escape but newtonian physics is such a drag.
back on the shore people are moving around, joggers and dog walkers, fishermen and paper delivery boys. some yoga women stretching in the sun, silhouetted against the water, it all looks pretty as a postcard.
i walk up the hill, to the lookout, not really for any other reason other than to look out. i see up the coast, the entrance in the distance. i asked someone what the entrance was the entrance to. they gave me a good answer. it's the entrance to the north coast.
i gaze out at the ocean, remarkable patterns of waves down below, a few boats rocking gently in the harbour. some pelicans follow a fishing boat into shore, it's a beautiful thing to watch, simple and real. my head starts to de-clutter. 
the phone call from work, i can't really talk still, splutter a few words and then cough. they apologise and hang up. i wonder what that was all about.
i'm decompressing from work, it's good, my bones begin to relax, another week and i'll be almost normal. i go drink some japanese tea at the taiwanese organic place where the vietnamese girl works. i'm not sure how but we end up talking about schools and education, how when we went to school we didn't want to but now kids love it. i say i never learnt anything at skool, it was a waste of time for me. they laugh and i take my tea and sit on the bench watching the waves and listening to a guy playing mandolin. his song wafts across the way like a wonderful soundtrack to the morning, a harmonious synchronisation of sound and colour. the days are slow and simple. i am enjoying this time free from working, free from everything. it's good to just relax and smell the flowers. let my head empties out a trail of junk. 

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

still coughing and sweating, chest tightens like some awful heart attack type symptom, my head spinning as i'm literally on the verge of passing out. i make my way to the doctor where they say i am suffering from asthma, make me buy ventolin and a spacer. my initial attempts make my teeth feel weird, metallic and heavy. i don't like it, but the cough gets worse.
seven days later i am with a client in a doctors getting his flu shot. the doc says to me, 'have you seen someone about that cough?'
i tell him i did and i was diagnosed with asthma. 
'no,' he says, 'that's not asthma.'
he writes out a script and says take this antibiotic.
a week later the cough feels slightly better but soon returns in full. i can't work and need a sick cert. so i cruise down the local medical centre and the doctor there says he wants me to take some other pills and writes me two scripts. 
just to be sure he wants a blood test. 
i don't bother filling the scripts as i'm over the drugs, i'm over the medical model, these cats don't know what they are doing. they are all just pushers for the pill companies and we are the dumb cash cow that pays up all the time in our ignorance. 
the weekend is spent with me coughing and sweating and generally feeling like my time is up. i casually mention to someone if i do die it would be weeks maybe months before someone found my body.
monday morning i go in for my results. the doc says they are not in yet. tuesdays morning i return, only the receptionist tells me i need to see the doctor urgently and i have priority so don't have to wait.
it turns out i have whooping cough. something that plagued me as a child has returned. i get some new drugs, i have two weeks off work. gonna rest, bake some cookies, maybe write some tunes.
i'm exhausted, i need a break.

Monday, May 09, 2016

things go from bad to worse depending on the observer, of how you choose to experience it, she said as a matter of fact. i was impressed by her confidence and the non negotiable power in her idea. besides i know that it's perception and processing. she was right but in a sexy way which makes her more interesting and thus more attractive.
i wished my brain would switch off and stop, just for a moment so i could say something back but it was a turbulence of information in avalanche. 
let's get a drink mission, i like rum.
i was following, still unable to say any words. speech just wasn't happening for me right now.
she pulled me across the road, four lanes of traffic, cars honking and windows rolled down exposing angry drivers yelling angry words w but all i could do was take it all in like a amazingly detailed photograph that i could loose myself in. but this was real, reality, i was hyper alert to it, but limited in responding in language. it was like the language centre of my head had been changed. the information in the words were heard, they went through a processing of my internal knowledge of quantum, my experiential understanding, my education, beliefs, passions, poetry, various mental filters and then i find myself in complete agreement with the fundamental truth of the statement, but that information then changed into me observing reality but outside it. in a different reality. process process, mission process... and i couldn't communicate into it in language, but i could navigate through it.
the shock of such a thing is breathed out through my disciplines, all the while negotiating a busy street full of night life, bright lights and open storefronts luring people in to neon basements and doorways. people were dressed in bright elaborate costumes, circus performers, it was a carnival of a street scene. it wouldn't be so far removed from my own reality, a slight exaggeration of it perhaps.
her hand around my wrist felt real enough, she pulled me gently through a horde of people and into a bright white neon doorways and up a flight of stairs. 
this is my favourite bar, it's a nice, you'll like it she smiled back at me while moving forwards, and they make the best mojitos.
suddenly we were standing in a very elegant and dimly lit area. it resembled no bar i had been to before, more like a tea house with good lighting. we took a seat in the corner and she waved a hand up, at which a waiter appeared and took our orders.
no listen, i know your freaked by everything, i know you wondering why you can't communicate but its okay, its not permanent. and mission, you are right. this is a different reality from the one you inhabit, it's almost the same but it's slightly different. okay? are you okay with that?
i nodded, yeah i thought, yeah i am okay. i was okay.
she said she wanted to wait until we had our drinks and then she would explain why she had brought me here. i smiled and nodded, i had nothing but time. 
the drinks came in tall thin glasses, a fresh mint sprig freshly decorated the rim and a perfect circle of lime floated upon the top and i could see vibrant brown crystals of sugar dancing in the drink. i downed mine in a couple of sips and ordered another two for our table. 
i read your stuff, the stuff you write. i like it. i want you to keep writing so i can read it. her eyes sparkled, that's all. and i wanted to have a drink with you to. it's sad that you can't talk back but it's okay we can have a drink together. her eyes lit up and she smiled. it was an extraordinary smile something it would take an alternative reality to create and those eyes where vast, like there was a whole other universe inside. i could see it, vast and filled with lifetimes of wonder. she was still smiling and we sipped our drinks together while she just smiled. and it made me smile to, so we sat there drinking our drinks and smiling at one another. 
  

Friday, May 06, 2016

somewhere in the far east, i am covered in sweat and guts raw from dry retching. there's mandi nearby wiping my face with a wet rag, she whispers something in tibetan, soft words from soft lips. how is it possible to be so soft in such a harsh environment i wonder.
my skin feels hot and cold, it's impossible to tell. i can't be certain if i won't die, i always wanted to have an unusual life, i guess that includes an unusual death. 
for a moment i see mandi's face leering down at me, her elegant features and care, she cares i think before my eyes close. that's gotta count for something in this crazy world.
mandi has given me some opium, it eases the pain and helps me sleep but my dreams are vivid and i get confused. my son appears, 'don't die dad,' he says. 
i'm nailed to a cross, the surf is at my feet. the tide rises. i'm tied to a post, the flames lap below me. i'm floating in space, running out of oxygen, i'm nothing in a vast something i cannot perceive. beyond scale, beyond imagination, beyond science, defined in pure mathematical terms. some equations flash by, suddenly the light surrounds me, a white light blinding white. have i lost my vision, i can't see anything.
mandi vanished, everything white. i stare into the brightness, it's everywhere, goes onwards spilling into my future. 
i'm engulfed within whiteness in all dimensions my minds thoughts spilling away as whiteness leaks in, go to the white light, that's what they say, i swim deeper into it , it swims into me until i fall into deep sleep again, the dream fades away. 
i wake gasping for air, my lungs sucking down oxygen in deep breaths, my skin sticky and hot. i'm burning up, burning, but it's so very cold. 
mandi whispers, 'it's okay, it's okay, just keep still, lay still.'
i wonder how many days have passed us, it's impossible to say, all time itself has become immaterial to me as i pass from state to state, moments of vivid dreamlike reality to fractions of painful suffering. 
some water passes my lips, a hand wipes sweat from my forehead. mandi chants some incantation and i drift away the white brightness replaced by nothing at all.
much time has passed, i'm sitting down but my legs to weak to stand without support. i'm eating small pieces of something, crunchy, chewy unrecognisable. insects i think. mandi encourages me to chew. her concern touches me. 
when i try to speak it's just a moan, i can't say the words just a strange guttural noise. my throat actually feels sore and awfully dry. later i drink something that tastes like warm bitter thick milk. 
mandi gathers some wood and puts a large log upon the fire, it crackles and pops in an explosion of noise like a firework display. small sparks fly around and rise upwards into the darkness, while momentarily showing me the interior of a cave.
i ask mandi if she has my pack, she says nothing was found near me, just the clothing i had. she brings me my jacket and i search through the pockets. in a matter of moments i have a small pile of items. a passport, a wallet with three currencies, a drivers licence and a photograph of jake. there's a flashlight, swiss army knife and a map of the himalayan mountains and a detailed ordinance survey map of annapurna 3 which mandi points to excitedly and in broken english says, 'here, we here.'
later i manage to stay upright with mandi's assistance, i put my arm around her and she supports me as we walk along the cave corridor out towards the entrance, taking two sharp right turns. a small tunnel of light around the corner leads to a magnificent opening, a hole about 2 meters exposes us to a breathtaking view. 
snow capped mountain tops as far as we can see disappear over the horizon to the left of us but a massive wall of rock blocks the right as a mountain face looms upwards as far as we can see.
the sunlight offers a glimpse of detail at the rock face, it's a structure of chaos i think. the wind makes it difficult to stand on the ledge but we look at the view from the protection of the walls and i wonder how i would have ended up here.
mandi points to the mountain opposite and i follow her finger to the ropes, and there in the rock are the remnants of an expedition. 
i scan the area cursing i have no binoculars but in the jagged rock opposite i see some spikes and ropes. i ask mandi to take me further out to the ledge. 
we are exposed here, freezing wind howls around us but i can see the ledges below clearly, no sign of life.
back inside the cave i try to remember whom i was with and what we were doing. nothing comes, just a blank area. 
i've given up asking mandi she has no answers other than she found me and saved me.
i make a small shrine from the few items i have salvaged from my pockets and watch as the flames dance upon the wall.     

i've taken three days off, my illness has forced me to rest up so i went to the beach and walked along the sand bare feet, the surf flat and gentle sun warmed my skin. i felt good out there, clearing my head from all the silly nonsense stuffed inside. i stopped for lunch and enjoyed my food chewing down slowly savouring the taste like some mindfulness exercise. the light is kind, soft light filtered and gentle, ah i do love my terrible beach. 
later some terrible pains in my chest seized me, i don't know what caused them, coughing fits maybe. i couldn't tell if it was a heart attack or what, how do you know? anyways i breathed it out and somehow managed to manage the pain, although it left me quite disturbed. i don't get ill often, but i am psychically responding so my issues at work, stress manifestation. days off and away are what i need, perspective. i'm going to start writing about my work soon, just kinda a few short chronological tales, charting my history as a social worker type. it would be compelled into a single volume, a thirty year history of what i have experienced. think i would call it 'the truth is stranger than fiction.'  

Thursday, May 05, 2016

signal to noise, white light white heat, random filters on sun, flat ocean mirrors the skies, but these skies have eyes and so do i. 
seeing all and everything, the trees glimmer away. knowing more and knowing less the trees have something to say. listen.
we came in slow time, seeking out light for energy, we have deep roots and architecture like electricity, and we keep on a wavelength you can't perceive. water and light, photosynthesis in atomic structures of the leaf, it's all free energy.
water and light. home for life, saviour of the wild and shelter from the storm. when the sun gets to much stand under the branch and cool down man. relax a while and close your eyes, have a dream with me, seek sanctuary. my branches spread like the synapse in your head, seek enlightenment. find some peace.
  

Saturday, April 30, 2016

classic old street, the graveyard of a lost neighbourhood. it's nowhere near as big as you remember it, the streets seem smaller, the houses not as big, the pavement narrow and look at the corner shop, it's tiny yet you remember as a child walking into this treasure trove and looking at the counter display of lollies and sweets, a kingdom of colour and wonder. 
memory itself shrinks, in time, things fade away, warp and shift like the landscape itself, nothing is exactly like it was. the things we think are fixed in memory change when we speak with others who were there, their perspective changes everything of your perspective and how can you trust theirs. where does that leave you?

'remember the time you did that?'
'no, i don't remember much at all, it just comes up to the surface and i record it, my memory is an ocean filled with memories swimming around, occasionally they are present and sometimes i need to submerge myself to find them, others are lost deep in the depths. but i know i remember everything, that's very clear. my ocean is clean and pollution free, memories swim around uncontaminated and polluted by plastic or bits of trash so i'm not to worried.'
'you confuse memory with recall?'
'nope, i just don't try to recall, things surface when they need to or i don't stress or panic. i trained my memory with a few mind hacks, i have it all sorted. in fact you worry more about my memory than i do.'

the ancient ones used interesting techniques for memory, buildings, elaborate palaces or cathedrals they could use as astral holding pens, mine just happens to be an ocean. 

'what about the childhood memories, how things are smaller now your an adult?'
'light distorts in water, it's called refraction. you have to accept that memory is relative to time, the time it happened and the time you recall it. refraction is light, memory is just light from the past reaching us now because we want to receive it.' 

  

Thursday, April 28, 2016

the bar is packed, classic america mid western place in the middle of nowhere, accessible only by car or bike, it took wendy and i three hours walking and hitching in the twilight hours to get there but here we sit listening to some boogie guitar from z z top and drinking shots in the middle off a wet tee shirt competition as everyone shouted and cheered, 'skin, skin, skin, skin,' and i looked around me in my englishness and saw americana. i had been here before but never alone and as a teenager, i was filled with hormonal intellectual and spiritual thirsting, i wanted it all. 
at the time amongst my peers it was incredibly unfashionable to have anything to do with the usa, in fact i was bullied a lot at my stupid skool because my family had taken me there many times. but then looking back i was completely isolated at skool, even the few friends i had were vicious nasty, backstabbing bullies who's envy had no bounds. although the girls seemed to possess a different idea about me, very protective.
so wendy and i are very drunk, the smell of sex hangs heavy and everyone is wandering around stoned on that beautiful weed or staggering around from to much beer. the wet shirt girls are all stunning and disinhibited, there's a lot of flesh. 
i don't know how i met wendy, we just gravitated and she stuck close to me for a while. she was younger than me and i think bemused by my accent and choice of words, particularly 'brilliant' which i used to describe everything i liked.
she was typical new jersey, really cool. i liked her chilled out attitude and casual approach to everything and was not surprised when she mentioned she had booked a room in the bar so we could crash out overnight. i think around 3am the place seemed to close but we ended up retiring about 1am and even though the room was not huge i was surprised to find it included a tv.
i flicked through the channels while wendy rolled a joint.
in the time i had known wendy she was always listening to my description of the bands and music i liked, london punk, post punk she had never really heard off. i told her enthusiastically i liked the american bands, television, talking heads, patti smith but she was a springsteen girl. the only band we both seemed to have a great affection for was 'the stones.'
wendy was telling me about a new guy, a black dance act, she described him as a cross between james brown, hendrix and little richard, she said he was going to be the biggest star on the planet once people discovered him and his name was prince. i had never heard off him.
but that night, in pasqualie's bar in wisconsin i flicked through the old tv and stopped on a channel where i saw a grainy fussy picture of a guy singing a funky song and dancing with his band.
'that's him,' wendy said, 'that's prince.'
it was 1980 and i was just discovering my own paths through travel, books, music and life. i shut my eyes and smoked my joint and listened to some song from 'controversy' and i liked the future. what struck me right between my eyes was the weird wild gregarious sexual outrageous in your face, the dirty funk. it was sexy man. it turned us on. 

when i returned to the uk i told everyone, watch out for this groovy black american cat, man he's jimi hendrix, james brown, little richard. yeah yeah mission, they all said. 
a few months later i met a guy called anthony robesbottom, a black american from oklahoma who was a prince nut. he had moved to london and i hung out with him listening to his prince tapes. he was impressed i knew prince and said, it would only be a matter of weeks before prince went global. he was right. 
i always liked prince, yeah a few cheesy songs, some lyrics are questionable and some of his films are disposable but, and this is a big but, he was a fucking genius. he made it look so easy. 
tony had some amazing twelve inch singles we would listen to, songs like, 'how come you don't call me no more' and 'erotic city' and 'god.'

the last time i saw tony was at my wedding, he turned up in a rolls and told me he was going back to the states. i never saw wendy again either, but when ever i hear prince those two people come back to me. wendy and her wicked ways, tony who was a great friend.
then when i lived in west berlin, and frequented the infamous jungle nightclub gabrielle and i would always dance to the song kiss which they would always play at midnight, i'd do my jungle stomp and gabrielle would just do here exotic sexy stuff. 

prince is gone now. bowie is gone. they made a mark upon me. their music touched my spirit in some way, bowie especially but prince in another way. i guess it's sad but reassuring they have both left us a considerable sum of work to enjoy and the promise of unreleased songs we may get to listen to when the record companies need some cash. but one thing is sure, for me those two musicians are as much a part of my life as my family. not just for their music, but for the way they lived, integrity and commitment to their art. respect!

Monday, April 25, 2016

walking along the beach at twilight in autumn,the sunlight filters last rays through dramatic clouds and for some strange reason the normally quiet little beach town i have called home for the last few years, terrible beach is packed with hordes of musicians, troubadours and entertainers. crowds of people wander around, restaurants spill over onto the streets with queues and hungry crowds. the cafes pump out beer, coffee and cakes, even the lifeguards are out and it's nearly 1730, sunset. 
i gaze out at the waves, almost perfect form. i could jump in now if i were not so sick. and if there were not so many sharks at this time of the evening.
it's the first time in a while i've been into town, it's beautiful.
while i was sick i watched the two series of 'orange is the new black' and fell in love with it, what great writing, it's a comedy set in a women's prison. it's got it's fair share of drama and sadness but the characters are all fascinating constructions and very real. i'm in awed by the ex junkie who fucks her way through her time. her sense of spirit is mesmerising. i also find the red neck meth born again christian freak an incredible actress. she is fucking brilliant. such a demanding role and convincing.
tv at the moment is where the writers are. it's good, about time we had tv that don't insult our intelligence. orange is definitely the new black.   

Monday, April 18, 2016

old captain mission succumbs to some kind of illness, some awful days of feeling wretched as i drink lemon tea and honey, eat garlic and wait for it to pass. my weekend off fades away to watching a series on blu ray, 'the arrow' cheesy comic book rubbish. stupid plot lines but after a few episodes i must admit i'm hooked.
not only is the parallel story of how the arrow survived five years on an island a good story the way the lessons he learns comes into play in his return to his home very interesting. the people from the past catch up, the ghosts that haunt him, the love that thwarts him. in many ways this is what i loved about comic books as a kid, they were filled with crazy stories but there were also interesting lessons within the sub text. the last confrontation scene in season three is brilliantly executed and surprising. 
i was never a green arrow fan as a kid, i loved the silver surfer, he was my man, norrin radd although i flirted with superman, spiderman and the fantastic four it was always the surfer for me, not only did he have a cosmic surf board, he had the best origin story ever. one day they will make a show or movie out of the silver surfer and if it's done with the correct attention to detail it will be incredible. it's the most spiritually moving story from marvel, jack kirby and stan lee had put a lot of thought into his journey.
and here's the thing, watching the arrow i realise how these comic stories are new mythologies, the hero updated to become a superhero.
i guess being sick entitles me to watch some trashy shows and kick back a bit and the arrow was a good distraction. three series, healing time, one weekend.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

go down to ice man to score some deep freeze, outside it's hot and sticky, the scenery is melting, walking  passed those nice homes that families live in behind collapsing walls just like old gods used their swirly distortion tool. once those walls were straight lines, now they kinda look like homes from a smurf kingdom. gardens stretched out like fractal frontiers, flowerbeds spiral out in curves a psychedelic pattern of colour and smell, look at that bee, it's the size of a yorkshire rat.
i get down to ice man, he's wearing his green suit and deerstalker hat, looking like a jaded time traveller from victorian times, he's slumped in his armchair reading the 'atlantian book of the dead', drinking from a china tea cup, 'ah mission, let me just make you some darjeeling old chap.'
'okay, thanks,' i look around nervously, 'i hope i didn't disturb you.'
'no, no, it's always good to see you, always a pleasure. now, do you take milk, and sugar? i can't quite remember.'
'no, no thanks, black and hot is fine.'
ice man returns and hands me a cup while he carries a huge purple alice in wonderland tea pot in his other hand. he then gestures to a chair, 'sit down and i will pour.'
i sit down into a fine leather armchair, my body eases in perfectly, it relaxes and sinks deep into the plush fabric.
i sip the tea, 'why, this is splendid tea.'
'yes, yes i have it sent to me from darjeeling directly, ever been?'
'no.'
'really, you have never been to india old chap?'
'no, i got to sri lanka but never india.'
'sri lanka hey, did you know that was called ceylon. a fine tea growing country. did you sample their virgin white tea, it's one of the most expensive tea in the world. it's sublime although acquired.'
'i've never heard of it, i usually drink a mint tea or ginger and lemon.'
ice man makes a face, so i quickly add, 'fresh ginger and mint.'
he's not impressed, i can tell he's a purest, 'well this is nice,' i say, taking a sip.
ice man and i share a moments silence, 'i suppose you want some deep freeze, i have some fresh stuff in the freezer if you're interested in quality.'
'sounds great.'
i buy a small pack.
i make small talk,'so, you enjoying that book?'
he picks it up and shows me the cover, 'this is the most incredible book mission, do you know about it?'
'yes i do, i wrote it with a friend.'
'what, you wrote it!'
'co wrote.'
'who...how..., my god mission, you are full of surprises.'
'ah yeah, i even surprise myself sometimes.' 
i lean into the chair, the tall back is comfortable and i bring the cup to my nose and inhale the strange smell. my eyes feel heavy and close briefly. 
'i had no idea you had such an interest in the occult.'
'yes, it's not something i advertise, that's why i published under a different name. people get the wrong idea about these matters.'
'yes, quite. well, i'm still reading your book, up to the part on sigils, very interesting, informative.'
'well i'm glad your enjoying it.'
'i say, can i show you something?'
'sure.' 
ice man smiles and stands up, walks into another room and returns carrying something wrapped in a scarf or shawl. he places it upon my lap and sits back in his chair smiling, 'open it up.'
i unwrap it carefully. it's a black mirror. 
'ahh it's in good condition, looks pretty new actually, how old is it?'
'it's new. i had it made but i don't know how to use it and i was wondering if you could show me, seeing as though it appears you are something of an expert.'
'well i can't claim to be an expert but i can show you how to use it. it's quite an ancient technique. it began with water. the surface of a dark pool was used, then stone usually obsidian. now i think mirror is the preferred technique.'
'i have never used it, do they work?'
'well i will need a stable base on which to place this.'
'ah yes come, let's go to my study.'
we return into the room from where the mirror came, it's not a huge space but it is enough to work in comfort and the desk makes a good platform. i position the mirror and draw the curtains. i ask ice man for a candle and he lights a small tea light.
i position ice man in front of the mirror and begin to talk him through a relaxation technique, part hypnotic but mostly creative visualisation. 
in his mind he relaxes, his body follows suit and his breathing takes a nice rhythmic flow.
he must be looking into the mirror now as everything is silent, and a stillness unfolds within the apartment, even the gentle hum from the fridge fades away in the void. light from the single candle just flickers across our faces and for a moment it feels like we are in a giant floatation tank. i look into the mirror as well.
a tiny gasp, as dark clouds form somewhere behind the mirrors surface. does it even have a surface, it feels more like a depth.
the clouds move faster now, floating across the mirror in blackness. suddenly one big cloud appears and swirls around, slowly taking the shape of a face and then it fades away replaced by a unicorn in the distance galloping towards us, it gets closer until we see it's eye filling the mirror. it's gone, blackness remains. whatever vision we have been granted is over.
'did you see that?'
'indeed i did, it was intensely real.' ice man needs reassurance, he's suddenly become aware nothing is as it seems, 'was it real?'
'it's the same as the cat in the box, is it alive or dead. you saw something, therefore it's real.'
'let's go sit down again, i'll make another tea.'
we return to our seats in the lounge room, a lamp gets switched on. a few moments later we sip from our cups and begin deconstructing.
'it's a projection right?'
'i don't know, isn't everything?' 
'mission, you are an obtuse bastard.'
'i don't think everything is accurate. our perceptions are just fractions. that horse...sorry unicorn seemed real to me, yet perhaps it was not a unicorn at all.'
'unicorn!'
'yes, that's what was in the mirror, a face that became a unicorn.'
ice man laughed. he sipped his tea and smiled.
'i saw a ship not a unicorn.'
'ah, well that proves my point.'
'it was a huge old clipper ship under a full moon. i seemed to fly over her, looking down passed the mast and rigging and then it faded away.'
'so we each saw completely different things, our mind must have projected them upon the surface.'
'then what was that face, we both saw a face and clouds.'
'yes, that's true, the face flashed there after the clouds passed away.'
'maybe the mirror has a face mission.'
'maybe. i didn't see much detail but enough to know it was a face.'
we sit in silence for a moment.
'the unicorn, it was white right?'
'yes, very white, with blue eyes.'
ice man gave a slight sigh, 'oh. oh my.'
'my grandchild, madaline, she died aged 6 in a car crash. i used to call her my unicorn. she had, big blue eyes. oh my.'
'jesus, i'm sorry man, i had no idea.'
'it must be her, it must be.'
'it just ran passed me, big and bold, right up close to me, big blue eye filling up the whole mirror. although it felt like the mirror was not even there anymore.'
'oh maddy, poor maddy.'
there's not much to say, what can i do. let the old man weep over his lost grand daughter. leave him in peace. i take my cup and saucer to the sink, prepare to leave.
as i walk out into the corridor ice man whispers, 'the black ship, it means something?'
'i don't know, don't upset yourself thinking about it, i should never have showed you how to use it. put it away, seal it up and get rid off it.'
'i saw the ship, it was a big black thing, and the moon shone down upon it. i saw them, the crew of the liberty, that's what the ship was called. i could see the name pained in white upon it's side. it flew two flags the white blank flag and the pyrate flag mission. it was your ship wasn't it? we must have seen each others visions.'
i leave him alone with his thoughts, and outside feel a cold wind upon my face, and it's whisper calling out.





  

Saturday, April 16, 2016

once when i hit rock botton i landed a part time job with burroughs bug exterminator company, a nefarious business indeed.
burroughs was long past his use by date and couldn't leave home due to crippling agoraphobia so he trained me up in his underground basement, which resembled a mad scientists laboratory from a cheesy late fifties movie. burroughs chain smoked tiny joints he rolled with sweet smelling mexican hooch, he repeated the instructions in that strange dying android drawl as i followed them out, 
'move from left to right, right from left, keep the nozzle downwards, about one inch from the ground, you're an exterminator now, bug killing terrorist, gotta spray those fucking bugs mission, cos a bug never forgets.'
'i thought it was an elephant that never forgets.'
'elephants never remember, bugs never forget mission, you got any wits?'
'wit's!'
'on your personage.'
'err...'
'mmm didn't think so boy, now focus your mind.'
occasionally he'd add a little element.
once he was teaching me how to get a nest, he'd set up a balloon and pinned it up from the ceiling and i was to hook onto it, carry it down and smoke the wasps unconscious and then drown them but it was all simulated, there were no wasps. i managed to hook the balloon and was about to bring it in when burroughs threw a dart into my leg.
i screamed, dropping the pole and the balloon.
'what the fuck man!'
i hopped around on one leg, the dart had entered all the way to the hilt, i pulled it out and a jet of blood spurt streamed out.
'wise man take a sting below the belt from a rouge than crack a nest and take the heat from a swarm.'
in some ways it was like the i ching, the more i listened the more i'd discover i had no idea what he was talking about, yet although it was elusive and eluding his words contained some sort of hidden painful truth.
and every time i felt i was getting better at this stupid job he'd teach me i knew nothing.
so onwards i trained, days passed into weeks and then months and we worked our ways from ants, roaches, spiders and hornets and wasps, snakes and reptiles, rats, possums, skunks and finally the exotic beasts burroughs seemed to hold in high regard, centipedes, snails and beetles.
i have to be honest, these things didn't come easy. i'm no killer, even of bugs.
but burroughs, he was hardcore, a lethal ruthless assassin and even though we only learnt theory i knew burroughs was an expert. not just in bug killing, but in everything, he had knowledge of stuff that was ridiculous, he knew who killed jfk, he knew what aliens species the government knew about, he had encyclopaedic knowledge about drugs and derivatives, he also knew a hell of a lot about weapons and late one tuesday afternoon, he showed me his vault.
knives. he picked one up, it was a black dagger, with a ribbed edge, it looked like something from the future. the handle was pure black onyx yet it was light to hold and it fit perfectly into my hands. he gave me a belt to keep it with and a black leather sheath.
'it's a olmenic soul killing dagger mission, mans gotta have something to protect himself with.'
there were guns in there but we never got to look at those. burroughs didn't even show me the rest of the blades, he just gave me this weapon and that was it.
i saw some oriental weapons on the walls, 'what's that?'
it's persian, a war machine, very dangerous for humans.'
'mmm, okay,' i'd lost interest in his weapons and burroughs didn't really seem to enthusiastic now, 'that's your weapon, guns don't stop bugs without a world of collateral damage, plus they are heavy to carry, use the dagger, it's exactly what you need for your first mission mission.'
'what kinda bugs do you kill with a dagger.'
'the large kind mission, the large kind.'
we went back to the basement and i ate some soup while burroughs shot up on some black powder.

he passed me a piece of paper, it was wafer thing and rolled up like a toothpick, i uncurled it and saw an address written in his awful scrawl. there was a telephone number under the address.
he threw me the phone.
'independence day mission, go out there, kill some bugs.' he threw me the car key, it was attached to a keychain with a big plastic cockroach.
the car was indeed a black truck, beaten up and somewhat antiquated, i wondered how long it had left before it fell apart. the engine turned over with a crunch and i kicked it into gear. the machine moved awkwardly forwards lurching like some rusty derelict fairground ride and despite my reservations got me to my destination. 
i pulled up outside a huge old federation mansion.
the door was unmarked, it could use a layer of paint, i studied the house, it was falling apart, the best possible thing would be to pull it down and start again. whatever bugs were inside would be entrenched.
it was a young lady that opened the door, she wore an apron and some oven gloves, 'apologies, i was just baking some muffins.'
'no problem, i'm the exterminator. i believe you have a problem with some bugs.'
'ah mr. burroughs must have sent you, i was hoping he would return, i enjoyed his company for an old man he certainly had lots of vitality.'
'well i wouldn't know about that but he did indeed send me, i'm mission, his new assistant, apprentice actually. i'm still learning. he sent me but he didn't provide me with much information about the nature of your problem. i may need to talk with you before i start.'
she smiled, 'sure, why don't you come inside, those muffins will be ready soon. i'm mrs. vandermoon but you can call me shirley.'
the interior was darker than most homes, furniture was from another time but it looked stylish in relation to the interior decor and gradually i could make an impression. 
this was old money, a family home for decades, maybe centuries. the design was timeless, old desks and paintings, rugs and tables, high ceilings with dusty crystal chandeliers, the curtains were heavy and dark, wooden floors covered in dust creaking in the breeze. the staircase was the wide style with that particular curl as you ascend. i looked around taking it all in, first impressions are important in this line of work burroughs said to me once. especially the smell of a place, and it was this strange pungent stink of something ancient and rotting that i could perceive underneath the disguise of fresh muffins. 
we sat in the kitchen at the big work bench shirley pulled out a tray of perfect muffins, steam rose from the lush looking raspberry domes and as she put the kettle on the stove i asked her as few questions.
'so what is the nature of your problem?'
'pardon mr mission?'
'well, do you have an infestation problem?'
'oh no. i wouldn't call it infestation, after all that would imply many. i think the bug we have is just a single one. a lone insect, thankfully.'
'well that makes it simple and hard, how will i locate one single bug in this big house?'
'well i can't know, i'm just a housewife, you are the exterminator.'
'yes, that's true. okay well have you seen it?'
she poured the tea into a china tea cup and offered me it black but pointed to a bowl of sugar. 
'help yourself to sugar mr. mission. yes, i did see it once but it's difficult to speak about, it was quite revolting.' she leaned in, whispering, 'it's huge, as big as i am, blacker than black just horrible. covered in legs like a centipede but fatter and with a head.'
i ate the muffin and sipped the tea. she was insane, deranged, some genetic defect, possibly from the inbreeding in her family line. old money means old karma. i continued with the charade, 'can you tell me where you last saw it.'
'the study.'
'and you want me to exterminate it?'
'obviously mr. mission.'
i bit down into the hot cake, a raspberry and white chocolate heat melting upon my tongue in an erotic moment of pleasure and sensation, 
'these are great muffins mrs vandermoon, lovely.'
'help yourself, really. i can't eat them all.'
'i'll be fine with this one but i will need that bowl of sugar if that's okay.'
'certainly. i'm going to have to pop out for a while anyway and do some shopping so start whenever you wish. can i ask how long this will take?'
'shouldn't be more than an hour providing this insect takes the bait. if i have to use the spray i'll call you. you won't be able to enter the house for at least 2 hours.'
there was an awkward moment then she said, 'i'll just leave you to it.' 
i'd never trained for big bugs, burroughs had suggested they get big on rare occasions but never mentioned them being human sized. i just assumed when he said big bugs he meant, the size of a walnut or something. there must be a mistake, insects are small and very rarely are they lone preferring a swarm, or family. 
i returned to the van and took out my kit, a belt bag i affixed next to my knife. some spray (just in case) and my zap powdered moon gun which was set to a sonic setting at a frequency insects would detect and be repelled.
room by room i swept with sound, methodically and with diligence finding nothing of mention until i came to the study. 
the entry was a big double door which mrs. vandermoon had left unlocked for me. i positioned myself carefully before it and slipped through silently, shutting the door behind.
i checked the settings on my zap gun and raised it to begin my sweep.
'don't please, i am reading.'
the weapon fell from my hand.
the bug was certainly man sized and it spoke in a very educated english. 
a deep silence hung in the book filled room, broken only by a car starting up outside in the distance.
'that would be mrs vandermoon, sweet lady indeed. and i see you have brought me a bowl of sugar, fabulous.'
still frozen i realised i was clutching the plastic bag into which i had poured the sugar intending to use it as bait. 
i was uncertain quite what to say so i placed the bowl down and pushed it towards where it sat.
without batting an eyelid the bug shot out a long tendril like tongue, frog fast it snatched the bowl and drew it towards the it's lap with great precision, not a granule of sugar spilled. it put aside the book and a long slimy snout seemed to emerge from within it's mouth. a secondary mouth, this one had a sucker type tube at it's end and it was into this tube the sugar seemed to disappear. it was not quite snorting, but it was very efficient way of ingesting nutrients.
'please excuse my eating habits, these are quite different from yours. my body is designed to excrete certain acids that dissolve food and digest it externally which i then suck back into my body as nutrient. it must look strange to you?'
'it's repulsive.'
'now, now, it's basic insect biology. no need to be so rude.' after all it's far more efficient than consuming raw product and spending five hours walking around in your skinbag digesting your meals.' 
the thing made a slapping slurping sound and sighed, 'there, all done. now state your business so i can return to my book.'
'i'm the exterminator, i've come to kill you.'
the thing made clicking sounds i assumed was some form of laughter, 'i think you are mistaken, killing me is quite impossible. my defences are very sophisticated and i could dispatch you in a matter of seconds.' 
the beast turned to look at me, it's face was quite distasteful, alien and ugly but it  seemed to smile now, it's strange purple crystalline features displayed some sort of malevolent intelligence. 'my weaponry systems are far superior to your primal ideas of defence and attack.'
smugly i quipped back, 'is that so. you just digested a fast acting chemical poison i laced the sugar with.'
'my chemical digestive systems are intelligent enough to know what's what. they rearrange compositions at a micro level, like nano technology only biological and far more sophisticated. everything about me is much more advanced than your civilization can throw at me. i'm a highly evolved bug and you won't be exterminating me today.'
my hand finds its way towards the knife at my belt, it's instinctive as if i have crossed a threshold and defaulted to stupid violence over reason. but before my hand can grip it a wave of pain hits me, an intense head ache and mind numbing wave of sound like a knife between my ears. i fall to the fall on my knees clutching my skull.
it stops as quickly as it begun. 'now, i don't wish to prove my point to the extreme but you should accept defeat and open a more constructive means of communication to surrender.'
my head clears slowly, my breathing calms down and i wipe away the tears in my eyes. 
what would burroughs do i think, what the hell would he expect me to do.
'what are you reading?'
'ah finally an intelligent line of inquiry. it's the third volume of dr. william reich's 'emotional trouble of mankind' otherwise known as 'people in trouble' are you familiar with it?'
'no, i'm not although i have read 'function of the orgasm' so i know of his work and i like the song orgone accumulator which was by hawkwind.'
'ah yes i do like hawkwind particularly their early stuff. bob calvert was a magnificent writer.'
'yeah i agree, did you ever hear 'amazing sounds amazing music?'
yes, when mrs vandermoon had wifi i was able to stream it, along with various other elements of your culture i find appealing and somewhat addictive.'
i swear the creature winked at me.
'do mean porn?'
'research.' human sexuality is of great interest to me.'
'why?'
'i am here undercover, from my hive. they sent me here amongst you to learn if it were possible to cross pollinate so to speak.' 
'what the fuck, are you kidding?'
'no, mrs vandermoon would make a suitable subject, she has the perfect hips and her organs are ripe for plundering.'
'that's insane. i can't let you do that, that's monstrous.'
'it's to late exterminator. far to late.'
revulsion overwhelmed me, how could this awful thing have impregnated poor mrs vandermoon?'
'how did you do it? how did you convince her?'
the creature stood up, it was tall and quite skinny, standing upon two strange long legs it brought it's claws up towards it's eyes, 'look, look, look mission. don't you know who i am fool?' and with that it ripped apart it's face and tore away the shell exposing burroughs.
'you failed your exams mission, never make a bug exterminator out of you. mush for brains, weak willed, no imagination, no gumption. just another cog in the machine mission.'
'but, but, but did you, how?'
'i fucked her alright, she was grateful for the attention, liked a bit of rough tradesman, ha ha ha! you think i really go around killing my own kind, you dope. you are the bugs. bugs upon this planet, you and your kind, eating it to death, plundering it's resources worse than a plague of locusts, more destructive than any ant colony, more sting in the tail than any wasp, more webs than any bug. people like riech and calvert pop up once in a blue moon to make your species appear worthwhile but what do you do, you lock em in institutions and call them insane. mission face it you are the bugs.'
'but why breed with us if that's how you feel about us.'
'we hold no moral claims over sex, we do what we want. to become stronger, faster, smarter, we push evolutions envelope by being diverse and unbounded by human morality, we are the colour and light in life, we are sound and vision while your human society is just a black hole in the great patterns of existence. you came from the monkey and you behave worse than primates. you develop culture a meaningless pursuit of no value to anyone but yourselves. you mate with one another and continue to produce the same entity. do you not think our agents are not out there attempting procreation with other species, we are everywhere. it's a reproductive war mission, war.'
burroughs marched towards me leaving a strange skin laying in a crumpled heap. he appeared human except i could make out his fingernails were black sharp claws and his eyes were big oval fly eyes, he wore his suit but the closer he got the more his human persona seemed to fall away.
he stood face to face with me, a wide grin upon his face as i was frozen and could not think of any conceivable action that i may take, then suddenly his face just began to throb and pulse, it changed shape slightly and a tear opened up like an over ripe plum. something crawled out from a rip in his head and within seconds the room was filled with thousands of flying creatures, they swarmed around the library like a tornado. i stood in the centre as it swirled around me. a deafening sound of millions of burroughs laughing and talking, then the black cloud seemed to implode, that is the centrifugal force reversed and in one solid whoosh the swarm came together in one solid form, burroughs again. he stood before me.
'you failed mission, you're a lousy apprentice and now it's my turn to exterminate you. let's face it, evolution is for those prepared to engage with it. the universe is indifferent to life's morality, it is only concerned with adaptation, diversity and survival.'
it was my turn to laugh, 'burroughs you crazy bug man, what exactly do you think i failed, a stupid test, an exam in pest control?'
'your whole species have failed, this is a war for the planet. we will destroy the males of your species and breed with the females, it's time for our kind.'
the dagger was in my hands and i threw it up in there air, burroughs watched it and using the distraction i shed my skin.
burroughs recoiled, 'what the fuck!'
exposed my skin gleamed in the soft light, purples and deep shades of blues reflected off my sheen.
'what the fuck is this mission?'
'it's the other side bug man.'
'what side? i don't understand. what are you?'
my tentacles wrapped around his face and body lifting him from the floor, his legs dangling and mouth hanging open as a jet of ink hit him hard in the face sending neurotoxins through his skin pores, paralyzing his body and mind. the thousands of tiny suckers independently gripping onto his body as he instantly succumbed to shock and the realisation he was not the only creature masquerading as a human. my tentacles squashed him to an unrecognisable pulp, black blood and guts shooting out across the room, his eyeballs falling slowly down the walls and a bit of brain hanging from the chandelier. i slid along the wet floor, undistracted by the visceral mess, my tentacles stretching out in all directions, searching for the rest of the muffin mrs. vandermoon had given me. such lovely raspberry and white chocolate, mmm, these humans may be fucked up when it comes to planetary consciousness but they do make exceedingly good cakes.