over here at mission control we had a massive dose of summer, very hot, unbelivable, people just chilled out, drank and slept, it was to hot for anything, then suddenly a week of rain. not just normal rain, a years worth in one week. it was incredible, you couldn't drive or walk anywhere, people wore wetsuits to the shops and canoed to work.
i must admit i dislike rain, plus i have a leaky roof which is home to some cute furry creatures, so the wildlife moved in with me for a week, i tell you man, i had had wallabies, possums, bats, spiders and my dog all holed up. i was attempting to play scrabble with them but they don't play by the same rules as me.
anyway the rain stopped and they returned upstairs, which is just as well cos they fucking trashed my place.
summers resumed and back with a vengeance. that intense sun bites the skin.
i went to tims house for dinner, he has a nice place, it's 3 million bucks of beautiful architecture and interior, he was playing some very cool music, indian stuff ragas. we planned some amazon stuff and talked about cuba being a possibility.

many years ago, 18 perhaps, you (jakob) was obsessed about a book i was reading, called 'rule of bone' it had a bright cover and i carried it around but never actually read it. he would always ask me what it was about, he would always ask if he could look at the cover and kept repeating the word bone. he asked me what the bone was, and i could not tell him as i had not read it.
anyway last week i moved all his books in to my place and he told me 'rule of the bone' was his fave book ever. so i picked it up and read it. strange how the past catches up, circles everywhere. anyways it is a great book a huck finn for our times and i can see why he licked it so much. what a fantastic novel.

now i am reading 'renegade' the autobiography of mark e smith from the english band 'the fall' and i have to say it's one of the best music books i have read. he is brilliant and i totally agree with his points except the drinking. i don't really like drinking much. he comes across as a total individual, unique in the same way as steve is but from manchester. his observations are just spot on, he really has a perception that i enjoyed. a man out of time, ahead of his time. very funny to.

halfway through life, am i closer to what i needed than before, yes, but also further away, life is paradox, like some chinese puzzle. i look back in reflection and i think i have travelled far, journeyed over land and sea but also the other landscapes, the terrain of the explorer is multi dimensional, it comes in all directions emotional, physical and spiritual and mental, it's the quadrant formation, but it exists in a sphere. and then when you think it's fixed the boundaries change, one cannot observe and measure the particle and the wave.
the weather churns me up, i don't like rain, it takes me to an unhappy childhood in the streets of london, a place i do not like yet have to return. rain takes me to skool a place that destroyed me and left me with a deep resentment. i was a quiet, introverted boy lost in his imagination and despite the anger and wrath of my teachers stayed in there. years of humiliation and looking for escape routes, hitching around the usa was my first taste of freedom from this. i travelled places, met people, saw the vast unbounded nature morph from car windows, slept under stars in deserts and lived in abandoned shacks in the woods. so from that oint onwards i knew there were other ways. mystical experiences are born from wonder, my path was shaped by a strange eccentric family on my fathers side, especially my grandfather who i have talked about in these blogs.

now i have a better understanding of who i am, where i am in space and time, why i am, the wonder is not so strong. the ayahuscia experience has helped me greatly determine what i am. the intelligence of plants is much more useful to me than human. i am done with humans.

but then i look at them sad and lonely, trying to figure out their way, going through the motions half asleep and dazed from the constructs they cling to. i feel like reaching out to those i do love, the people i really fucking am grateful for to have in my life, jakob my amazing son who is so beautiful and brilliant, my band who i fucking love and respect and my friends, evan, the high priestess, tim, gravy err okay im short on friends but i'm happy with these special people and i'm most grateful for the teachers of lessons, they have ranged from writers who i have absorbed to musicians i respect to ex girlfriends and most of all to my enemies. i love my enemies. i really do. and that is where i am at halfway through life.

the god part of the brain again, i am convinced that the author is mistaken, his early reaction to hallucinogens created an imprint that stayed with him and his rescue by pharmaceuticals confirmed and validated his perception. he talks about this in his introduction. with this imprint he is already formed the part of the brain synaptic network that will lock this belief in, therefore it is true for him, and science will validate it. ego remains alive. yet the aya experience is death, how can this death be meaningless and concerned with genetics when it is a process that can only be navigated by a spiritual surrender. the science would say that this is neurology and they are correct but the same applies to the spiritualistic view of shamanism, belief is the key.
if i looked at some one with a mental illness i could cure them with medication or shamanism which would mean banishing demonic entities from the mind. they are the same, just different language only the shaman is much more powerful as it is natural. the chemical approach would involve suppression and brain chemical alteration. in the end the god part of the brain actually proves nothing, but acts a theory exactly the same way shamanism is. both are constructed measures of reality in a way. however science is a cynics path towards god. and there is nothing wrong with that because there is nothing worse than blind faith.

dream - i am driving a van with a passenger who is in a wheelchair, i have instructions to take the an to a specific area, a sort of educational facility that is part of the old university i went to where i studied photography. i park the van and push what appears to be an empty wheelchair through a small shopping area and restaurant. we have parked the van near a small air strip and i watch the planes take off. then i enter the educational facility and report to what appears to be my old lecturers classroom where ex students are gathered to finish some kind of exam. each student was asked to list a book or books that influenced their images, i have chosen henry millers 'tropic' trilogy.

i think tis dream has something to do with a return to the uk, and old faces. it's like a journey but i'm travelling with my experience (symbolised by the wheelchair) where i have gone from (the university) to the return. the 'tropic' series i have not read, yet i know they are about henry millers stay in paris, an americans adventures, here i am the henry millar in australia, an english person returning to the uk.

one mans woman is another mans
well i am travelling through my life on minus hours sleep, through the rain, the lightning and the thunder, i am in the floating world, numb like i'm on some weird illegal anaesthetic. come on sister take a ride in my bubble, we can cruise past the supermarkets of your desires, picking up some soft porn breakfast cereal and jack up on seventeen varieties of milk, me i like my rice milk. the bubble wants to go left but it's having navigation issues, sabotaged by weird energy beams from the solar flares that penetrate the morning we take a sharp right. i meet up with a friend who has returned from the ukraine, he has been internet dating, spending about one year trawling through the profiles and building up cybernetic friendships with hundreds of girls desperate for escape, and by the law of numbers he found one, now he has returned with a sparkle in his eyes and the hope of return. he shows me photographs on his lap top, looks pretty cold, the girls all look unreal, the photos are glamourous and i see the glamour. i have to escape in my pod as a wave of nausea hits me between the eyes, the desperation bleeds onto the streets and i find some moments sanctuary with another friend tim who has recovered from a dose of gout, but he still laughs about death, crop circles and energetic vibrations and frequencies and general perfection. i like this conversation, i enter into it and we agree an all points metaphysical. the bubble takes me home, i shower, clean my teeth several times, and fall onto the bed, no sleep just a kind of stillness. i have not slept in 48 hours.

wake up, from awake state, a sleep i never had, missed rem, dreams with eyes open is just life, i travel in to the city, i meet martin my brother for a quick lunch and to pick up some posters he has very kindly printed for me. i wander through the bookshops, adyar has nothing new, i wander through the dead can dance section in the cd shop, oh how i have fallen in love with that band, i travel back to my friend mike who is dealing with his mother, she has dementia, its very difficult, i feel for him and his poor mum, i travel to sue and simons for fish pie and lots of wine. i have a good evening, pansy eats some sardines and rice, he is happy laying on the floor with sue. i am relaxed and drive back on the strange roads black with new surface, there is no traffic, no sounds except mick harvey on cd.
i feel inspired and like i have purpose.

the high priestess and i have been drawn into a war with some islamic cult leader, called wahid, who has gate crashed the aya forums with his own syrian rue influence. the war started when the high preistess called him on the fact ayahuscia is not syrian rue. i joined forces with her as wahids posts were extremely nausiating and derogetory to hers. then some dude called woody woodpecker starts to join in, deconmstructing my posts with some weird sacrcastic bent. anyway the out come is the islamic ego cult have backed down, acknowledging that syrian rue is different from ayahuscia.
wonderful result.
this morning i meet my reckless friend amalia who is a kind of globtrotting rock chick with nice feet, we decide to get our feet pampered at one of those feet places but it's so ticklish i can't stop laughing. very funny morning except for the parking ticket.
i have unpacked jakobs books, they are identical to mine, we read the same books.

im watching the moon rise over the horizon, there's no sign of it at all so i check my i phone ap and see it rises at 2033 so gravy asks me what the time is now, 2033 i say and sure enough there rises the moon. we are watching the moon rise smoking a spliff, talking about geometry of nature and man, angles, triangles, strange portals and rips in the fabric, the veil. it's a strange mysterious evening, esoteria leaks into our spirits. we drive up to pete who has some very large san pedro plants, we smoke more spliffs, i get a call from jake, distressed. i hope i put him at ease. on return to gravy's i see some of his talent, creative genius, he's the man that supports other people become famous from his ideas, he is a total freak in the best sense of the word. i am very lucky to know such people, im surrounded by brilliant people who have excelled in a curious way people who share a similar understanding of the cosmos.

the deep fix rehearse, lots of procrastination, we do an excellent 'no way back' and then make the fatal decision we need to eat and drink, my brother arrives with a camera, we sit around, nevin plays a scorching guitar, he's like the silent one, generating he right noise when he needs to, a restrained pulse and then, he explodes into something quite unique and fades back to the tone, drone. its harmonics.
loius has brought a new instrument, it's a bass clarinet. it looks like a saxophone but loius explains the difference between wood and brass. who would have thought it was that simple.
loius and i talk about constraining the sax sound, and i explain my ideas, although i cannot use musical terms to explain them, however he is receptive. this is good. the sound does sound better, more disciplined. it's actually quite good except for the fact food has not arrived.
nevin gives me an interesting thought, about challenge. val is exhausted, i can see it in his swagger. the rest of the set is pretty average, i think we were just not energised, yet here i am in a room with 'the deep fix' and i wouldn't trade places with anyone. the individuals are exceptional in every way, brilliant thinkers, musicians, and people. i have learnt an incredible amount from them, and the deep fix would not be if it was not for their input and contribution. i owe to them to learn my words and be the best i can be on the night.
martin and i drive back through the city. i drop him of at central and hen i head back to avalon, it's about 2am by the time i get home. i walk the dog, read a page or to from a book and then fall into the abyss.