Thursday, December 06, 2018

early morning waves crashing, splattering the body of a tired and worn out captain mission, the holy echo of neptune whispers in his ears and slides through his atoms. water is in everything is it not, pulled by lunar forces, astrological impulsions resonate through life itself, and water is the conduit. 
i'm surfing through anger, anger at the stupid dumb girl who has constantly intruded upon my zen, the idiot stalker, the sender of a billion photographs of breakfast lunch and dinner, the random snippets of her mundane thoughts constantly and the useless information she carries about serial killers and such. my head throbs from boredom, frustration and the way it infiltrates me. i have to put a ban on her contacting me. for sanity sake.
the surf shakes my bones, a big mother fucking wave crashes down upon my soul. i can deal with big waves but dumb blondes?

Sunday, November 25, 2018

slow train coming, station to station, somebody might wave back, downtown train, train in vain, man so many train songs i like. anyway i'm on the train, in newtown, in the city on a mission. there's a redfern moment and a strathfield opportunity as all lines converge. it's a short mission, a simple one and i must be back at base quickly and without anyone noticing. 

morning surf is magnificent, crystal waves structures healing architecture, my body vibrates with the energy, my fin somewhat battered these days, worn and frayed, but still very effective. it's a colder current, it's vital, i can pick up deep aquatic vibrations and depths own dark  and ancient intelligence.

afternoon sun is perfect, sinking into the horizon, the ground gives way to tomorrow. i catch the last rays of ancient sunlight, the promise of the future revealed. my blood is processed, white and red corpuscles, plasma tide, energetic pulse a micro lightening as energy comes under strict control and alters, i guide it, shape it, move through turbulence and bring it down to perfect sets and beautiful patterns.

night brings clarity, her nocturnal army marches my way, it's wonderful to surrender sometimes to something more powerful than myself, more determined and when we meet in an erotic explosion i wonder if light really travels fast, how did darkness get there first? 

Saturday, November 24, 2018

i got burned, taken for a ride by someone i trusted. it really cuts but i have to let it go, there are so many actions i could take and i think about but i don't need the karmic complications so i just hope somewhere in the girls head she understands the disappointment i feel. it's just more deception than i like around me. i like people who are true or at least fake it well. 
anyways head down, work harder, let go, move forwards. i'm good at it.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

bright future looms, the karma police have arrived and one by one my enemies are being dealt their justice. don't look in the eye of the gorgon, it's stare will freeze you where you stand. the beast has many eyes, snake head blues stone cold killer. it's a beast with a proven history, it's only slain by those with eyes wide open and shut, look away, avert thy gaze, for the blind will see the truth will set you free. my tip to gorgon killers is wear dark shades and use the third eye.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

i start a new chapter at work, a new boss, finally someone i respect. i'm burnt out, thinking about leaving, offers rolling in, but i'm hanging in there, not really sure why and now the tide is shifting. 
i finished reading a novel yesterday, the main character is a young teenager, he witnesses something terrible and it effects him for the rest of his life. later he is haunted by pictures of stick figures drawn in chalk. it's a mystery and as we read each chapter reveals something. but the ending is far to dramatic for me, the twist is intense but just not english enough to match the plot, it's more american. however, in the final chapter we discover something about the main character that even he does not know. i liked that. that was the english bit. 
usually i prefer american writers.
they build a house next door to me, that means lots of machinery diggers, sawing and noise. no privacy. i wake early and return at dusk, there are tree trunks everywhere. it looks obscene, a crime against nature. i hate the slow destruction, incrementally humans eat nature. one day it will turn upon them. 
i sigh and watch with heavy heart and great sadness the death of the trees i have grown to love. 
doors are opening and closing, it's life's little moments, sliding doors, choices, alternative universes. i slid into one and it's opposite appears. i think the glass is half full but discover it empty. 
a call from out of the blue, bad news travels fast, head seems to throb like vast energies about to explode. i listen for a while to the voice at the end, a girl i know. she's droning on and i loose my temper. i wake up in the shopping market, a bottle of coconut water in my hands. i'm dealing with intrusion. it's spilling into my illusions. she's squawking about a psychopath we know. many years ago he hunted me down but i escaped, only to find he had joined forces with other psychopaths. 
they had the power and they sucked up into their dark energies all my powers, left me weak and vulnerable  one thing i have learnt is when you come across a psychopath in life, leave them alone. so i did. i left them all and now she's come back to remind me.
'but he's a psychopath' she wails.
'yeah i know. you had your chance but you were all cowards.'
'we are all scared of him,'
'that's what psychopaths do.' 
i end the conversation, i'm upset and need a drink. that glass was half full i think, now it's fucking empty. 

Friday, November 02, 2018

awake early and head down to the ocean where i see the surf conditions are excellent and take advantage, straight in. big waves to, but these are sexy and treat me kindly, oh my god, this is amazing, i'm almost a dolphin. sometimes i ride the fall of the wave, sometimes the crest, i'm all over it, in tune with neptune and back where i belong. my fin is looking beaten and worn, i notice the strap is frayed and there are some chips on the edge, maybe it's time to pick up a new one.

Thursday, November 01, 2018

those floating islands, sometimes zones of thoughts, 
private climates, instinctive homes 
to the creatures in exotic forests 
and all the peoples who are alone
you penetrate further deeper, you move down that line like a cool river
weaving it's way through jungle heat. 
all the creatures look your way, all eyes gaze, 
jungle cacophony tears itself silent and a satellite looks down at this exotic moment. frozen now.
frozen time, you walk through the crowds, shopping malls, schools, high streets and traffic, you see it all in-between the blink, freeze frame.
you could steal an ice cream, money, a car. you could walk into a bank and fill your case with cash no one would ever know. even nature has stopped, if you look carefully you can see a raindrop exploding but that's details and you are not here for the details. 
in through the glass eyes of strangers, travelling around corners and curves, you don't hesitate. locked on, to what you want, what you need what your going for. 
uncertain smile, unguarded moment. 

Thursday, October 25, 2018

this is not captain mission writing, he is an imposter. this is captain missing. the mission routine is getting old and frustrating. what was that all about? 
writing reports?
the mission sub program is now inactive, we have it in a containment field. what would it write anyway, whimsical musings, stuff for the bird, lizards and the fish. who really wants to hear about his tiger grass and the surf conditions.
captain missing is much more exciting, has more to say about the world. captain missing has seen it all, been everywhere and knows everything, well almost. 
his reports are creative and written in that kick ass attitude you love, no political correctness, no fucking around here. 
captain missing is a bit like that guy conrad writes about, he's lost up the jungle, gone rouge. only rumours filter back in tribal tales and explorer antidotes in steamy whisky stinking bars in the tropics. 
one particular unverified story was told by a drunken doctor in rangoon. he was banned from a number of pubs and hotels, lived doing backdoor ops in a shed on the outskirts of town. when he was cashed up the doctor visited madame slings opium den for a few days release. it was during such lost week, in a haze of opium and oppressive heat the doctor encountered missing.
'i didn't see him come in, just saw his shape, wrapped up in that big coat, he's big, but tall to, he wears those big boots so it's hard to tell really but when he did stand out he blocked out the window and therefore the natural light. the window was only opened for one hour in the mornings, just to clear the air and smoke away. madame fling is quite particular about light, it's usually always dark inside. i remember him standing up above me, the shape of eternity, and i remember he sat across from me sipping tea on a big mass of cushions. 
he nodded at me, acknowledged my presence and offered to fill my cup. i saw his hand, specifically the rings. one was a moonstone, one was a pentangle, one was an amethyst the other was a chaos star. 
we sipped and he told me he had been in the jungle for two years, living with the voodoo people, a tribe i had never heard about. i listened as he spoke, telling me his strange story but i was also under the influence of opium and slipping in and out of dream states so i cannot be certain if i heard him correctly but this is what i remember.
the captain hitched a ride on a small motor boat. he adopted the identity of a ethno- biologist researching rubber plants for petro chemical company back in australia called mandox. of course the only research he had committed to was the search for the vast halo, a legend amongst psychonuats. the vast halo is a vividly purple small flower that only grows in circles of 12. the story goes only the voodoo tribe know where they grow and how to use them without death or permanent brain damage. the vast halo circle was only known by the shaman of the tribe so accessibility was difficult for mission, it meant infiltration and ordeal. so for almost fifteen months captain missing learnt the initiation of the voodoo shaman. 
the voodoo shaman was called loco, gentle and wise and very patient. his daughter was called agwe and missing and her seemed to connect on many levels but discipline was essential in mastering his apprenticeship, commitment to the mission at any cost. loco took missing under his wing and showed him the arts of voodoo sorcery and power, introduced him to the deities, the plants and systems of magick voodoo culture is imbued with. finally it was time to take the vast halo.
loco led missing through the jungle, it was dense and thick, teeming with hidden life and power. they travelled further than mission had ever gone before, deep into the unknown territory. five days and five nights later they arrived at a cliffs edge. loco led missing towards the edge, pointing down into a sea of mist. 
then he stepped off. 
missing followed. he leapt off and fell.
through the fog nothing was visible, but as he descended he came through to the clear blue skies, and below him a pristine lake. the obscured lake. the water was cold, refreshing, and beautiful. missing laughed with joy, he splashed around and then began to seek out loco. there he was emerging from the water, at the shoreline. missing followed. 
they sat in silence on the white sands until their clothes were dry. shaking sand off they began to make a fire, 'we have to await the night and the moon,' loco whispered. 
for a few hours missing enjoyed the peace, resting as he watched the flames jumping, and the moon begin to rise over the mountain. it was  full and the lake was illuminated by its silver light. eventually loco pointed at the surface of the lake. 
it was difficult to see but something was breaking through the water, whatever it was was improbable. missing stood to observe. gradually he saw it was a plant, not one but many. they were waterlilies. massive leaves floating upon the surface and there upon a short stem the purple flower of the vast halo. there were twelve of them.
they swam out, clambering upon the surface of the leaf. it supported both their weights, and offered a stable platform. 
anticipating loco would cut down the flower to ingest mission drew his knife but loco beckoned for him to put it away. he grabbed the stem and began to bend it down, while at the same time opening his mouth towards missing. 
inside the flower was a volume of what looked like water but it was purple, the colour reflected by the plant, 'this is what we drink captain.'
missing took a drink, it was sublime. not foul tasting at all.
loco drunk some while mission bent a flower towards the old shaman.  
then they sat down together upon the leaf. mission noticed all the leaves spread out so as they touched or could be stepped upon. the flowers all grew upwards and out like a three dimensional mandela. 
they were indeed vast and in the moonlight surreal as if from a fairytale story, the stars sparkling with untapped magick and the strange jungle sounds echoed across the dark water translated into a cacophony of living sound, life.
'what happened, what was revealed?' the doctor asked missing who had sunk into a reverie of sorts, his eyelids closed as the opium took hold.
missing smiled wryly.
'everything changed.'

is that it?
the doctor pushed missing for more but the man seemed to be lost in some colourful dream, freed from pain.

'is that it? it's not much of a story, it sounds like the old mission.'
'yes, yes it is.'
the howling plant spirits seared through his body, those obsidian eyes opened as if revealing the alpha and omega, his mind was everywhere, nowhere. it soared through the galaxies, tributaries of consciousness seeking out the dark matter. 
i get mission now, it makes it more interesting. he's an everywhere and nowhere man. 

captain missing filed his reports, captain mission filed his. one wrote their way out, the other in. in the end there was no difference. the destination was the same. 

Monday, October 22, 2018

still in the north, i stop for food, a bowl of acai berries and fruit with seeds and nuts and stuff that tastes awesome while chowing down i notice i'm in a yoga retreat with a cafe attached. how did i get here, i wonder. i sit in perfect union, nutrition floods my bloodstream, packing power and vibrational harmony. i'm in zen space, it feels good. i go to pay and speak with the yoga princess at the desk, she's smiling i make her laugh as i say, 'i didn't want to eat it, it looked like art.'
she's giggling like a schoolgirl, 'i just sat there and looked at it, and when i did it eat, it was magnificent.'
she's blushing but i have to go, the road awaits. 

Friday, October 19, 2018

I'd forgotten about that show, the expanse, it's one of the best science fiction series i've seen in a long time apart from westworld which is excellent as well. 
i knew i liked miller but forgotten why, then i saw the scene that clinched it for me, the bit where he explains to his friend why he's on his mission. it's a great scene, they all have their moments, even one of the head people in the united nations is rich and interesting, in motivation and character. her voice sounds so expressive, iranian i think, she's amazing.
i think if you liked westworld you would like this, it's complex rich and well written.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

i'm awake very early doing shopping chores, stocking up on coconut water. i get back just in time. a massive hailstorm ruins my plans, rain comes down like some weird deluge, frogs, fish and crustaceans litter the back garden, surreal garden. from where i stand in the safety of mission control. the sky is black, as if night has returned, and the hail is huge. white balls clatter upon my roof, the deck and the skylights, it's deafeningly loud. 
what can i do? it's my day off, so i finish my book. suddenly the storm becomes more severe and lightning cracks disturb my thoughts. i freak in lightening as i was hit by it and it's made me react in a very violent fear. i literally have to hide. my body won't even listen to my brain, it just moves and does what it needs to do,no amount of reasoning and rationalising can make my fear stop, the reptilian brain just kicks in hard.
the rain keeps falling, my garden is changing, lush and wild the only losers are my torn and tattered palms standing like loyal soldiers at the end of time, sustaining the brunt of the damage. every other plant is enjoying a much needed quenching of their thirst.
later i flop into my sofa and try to watch some tv show but i end up watching 'the expanse' again on disc, and they have done an excellent job transferring from books to screen. i like the screen versions better, they really are worthwhile as good quality science fiction is rare on tv. 
anyway's, book or screen its a good story to get into. complex and multi levelled. 
later a pocket of sunlight and i'm looking at blue skies. then the rain returns. i'm not going out again so i'm kinda reasonably content with added coconut water.  

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

few days off finally, i have time to do what i have to do, eat some salad and walk, see the ocean, see the trees. clean up home, move some books around. 
i'm the disheveled garden overspilling with potential. i have an amazing pond, i've spent loads of cash keeping those fish alive. and i love them. i want them to be happy. i think they are despite my unpredictable feeding habits. 
at back the tiger grass and black bamboo is growing wild and untamed, the palms though have taken a battering and need some assistance, maybe nutrients would help, i have to save them. wild weather, rain and wind does that. batters them.
however everything about my garden is jungle influenced.
okay, this racheal lady is really interesting and very cute. it's thrown me somewhere else. oh no, not again, i'm happy hope your happy, one flash of light,,,i wanna axe to come down right now. 
she's like... 
i walk in to that old workplace, it's brightened up since mary poppins arrived, i like it. her friend is often popping in to look at zeros and ones, so sometimes i see her and now it's been thrice, which is a good number because it means each time i see her it's better than the last. i just don't know why, just energy stuff i guess. even though brief it's very nice, but today was awkward.
i did stumble into town, unwashed and slightly dazed, after all it's the middle of the week, i been doing a few long days, and i'm looking at my worst. as for my clothes, burn them. that's my work outfit. it's pretty horrible, i should spruce up but it seems pointless when you have to do personal care. i don't mind doing it but i'm not fucking wearing groovy clothes to do it. 
anyway, i fall into the house and there she is, sitting on the computer with mary poppins. i'm like, what the fuck, i wasn't expecting this but, i'm also like well this is a pleasant surprise but i wish i wasn't looking so dorky.
so i launch into activity, some sort of avoidance response. i'm piscean, for fucks sake, this is like one of the strongest drugs in the universe. 
i power through, somehow i manage to say the right thing at the right time and then it becomes a blur. but i'm here now and...
okay i have to wing it.    
i miss you bowie. 
I really do.
everyday i think of you.
casting influence upon me
making me strange and weird, 
embracing consciousness, culture and magic

i drifted and flow
i change and i grow
 and understand your buddha nature

it never cast a shadow upon me
always showed me the way
i miss you man
star man 
since you went away

cocaine and sex
you did them best 
and moved to beautiful west berlin.
i like all that jazz, 
i really do now i tasted it
you know what's real is not faking it

i drift and flowed
i change
 and i grow
 and understand your buddha nature

it never cast a shadow upon me
always showed me the way
i miss you man
star man 
since you went away

i drifted and flow
change and grow
 and understand your buddah nature.

Monday, October 15, 2018

i find myself heading north, on the road to newcastle, passing kooky little towns and beaches, i stop for coffee somewhere quirky. i like this place, it's a town i have been to before. long jetty, just before the entrance. i flirt with a girl in a surf shop and then head onwards, over the big bridge at the entrance, along a windy a road, until i find the place i am looking for croudace bay. oh yeah, this is a different climate, the suns out, skies are blue although there is a rainbow behind me. i'm embracing the future, finding my power again. it's time for captain mission once more, a new mission a new captain mission.
great universe whom encompasses all, nameless and without form give us our daily dose of hope and blessings and forgive us our failings and inadequacies. direct us away from fear and into love and stop tempting me with girls like rachel whom although is quite adorable is another fucking lesbian who cannot possibly reciprocate in any way. 
it's the cosmic joke that runs through my love life, sadly and tragically it's hard to laugh. it's hard to feel anything but the fall guy in some elaborate emotional prank although i guess we could be great friends, but it's never enough really. 

Tuesday, October 09, 2018

the fear moves in, it's always there when you plug into media, when you hang with zombies, when you deal with the maya. bad news bearers, bad vibe generators killing the soul, and god knows there's a lot of it about. 
gotta focus on love and light for a while.
i gotta give some thanks to the things that matter, friends, family, flowers, the waves, the stars, art and girls, not necessarily in that order.
praise jah!

my wanderings took me across the silver ocean, to unbeknown shore. on the map it looked like a black circle with an x in the centre and then dotted concentric circles radiating out. 
the journey itself was uneventful, only that inner landscape seemed to shift, a certain fixed nature seemed to slowly dissolve within me, all my memories were quicksand as though time distorted itself the closer i reached my goal. my mantra kept me focused but it was imperfect.
by the time i put my foot upon the shore i was almost a different being, the only thing that stayed permanent seemed to be my name, captain mission.
the soft crunch of barefoot upon virgin sand was exquisite, the sensation of being the first and the tactile feeling itself blended into a vague euphoria. a hot breeze blew through my hair.
the walk up to the beginnings of the fertile jungle as life teemed within seemed like it was magnetically encouraged, i never looked back once as the jungle enveloped me. all travellers and explorers know there is no guarantee of return, and even if you do, nothing is the same as that moment of departure.
one foot in front of the other, one breath at a time, i moved through the vines, trees and palms, the deafening sounds of insects and birds, the oppressive swelter. on and onwards i fought my way through the dense patches and moved around inpenetratable areas. some vines were now the size of tree trunks, a circle of datura stamonium grew in strange uniformity to the rest of the vegetation and i knew i had found the spot. 
before stepping into the circle i wiped the sweat from my face and eyes, took a moment to calm my breathing and centre myself. 
the defence mechanism was impressive, waves of time displacement interfering with memory. i speculated it worked upon airborne pheromone activity, the closer i approached the stronger the impact. 
i emptied my pockets, laid everything out on a tree root and looked at my possessions, a photograph of my son, a watch. i placed these carefully into my bag and hung the bag from a low branch. 
for a moment i wondered if i should take my clothes off completely and step inside but i started to feel some confusion and thought it best to get this done so i stepped in.
instantly the fog in my mind lifted, pieces of me returned in some cohesion. my new skin was deep black, and my eyes now operated at supernatural frequencies. the flowers tasted bitter and the urge was to gag but i swallowed them up resisting all physical automatic reactions. i had not eaten for days and could feel the flowers in the pits of my guts being digested, quickly absorbed into my blood and making it's way through my body.
spirit beings appeared, many from different dimensions, and with a certain amount of adjustment i could tune them in and out. fortunately inside the protective circle none could reach me, but the malevolent entities tried to seduce me, to trick me from the circle. eventually i found the realm i sought. 
it was the ladder of lights i climbed, a certain mediative visualisation as i began my ascent. my research into the merkava had given me some idea of the symbology involved but i was unprepared for the revelation. to reach this point is akin to stepping through the wardrobe into narnia or finding yourself transported to middle earth perhaps even another planet or the asgard of thor, loki and odin. 
the chariot was incomprehensible, impossible yet gave the appearance of reality, it's base was solid, it was alive yet in flames. the living creatures that made the chariot were  man (earth), lion (mars), ox (venus)and eagle (mercury).
i ascended onto the mighty frame the flames licked at my skin but did not burn the way fire does. one hand in front of the other, i pulled myself up and took my place at the throne next to my queen.
it was time to rise.

it always feels like i have fallen off the edge of the world, caught in the reshaped remodel vortex where character is forged and identity transmuted, situations shift and transmute but there is a familiar archetype that always comes to the rescue. i often think of myself as a collection of personas all functioning in a healthy persona, a tarot deck is a good analogy and often i will fall back to those definitions. i use the tarot often, my thoth deck, sometimes i use the runes. i move from divination to invocation if necessary , the major arcana is the palette. i can be all things at all times, depending on environment  i can utilise what ever influence i require. i used to consider myself a magickian, i still am, but i know powerful magick requires no ego and ironically should be renounced for an egoless magickian does not use magick but something else, a childlike innocence and trust perhaps, the fool. ego, is the key and often i have written about it as the trap all spiritual seekers should be aware off. magick as a complete system warns the philosopher of this in it's oblique language and terms but the new age does not even know about this trap. and it is a trap. 
the fool has no power, the fool has no control, the fool seeks nothing but discovers everything, the fool is the blank canvass ready to be anything. the fool has a dog that excitedly jumps after his heels, why? because the dog loves the fool, (in the crowley deck it is a tiger that bites the fool) it represents nature, and instinctively knows they both live in the moment. no hopes or fears, just being and a belief in self. the fool will move in any direction, even over the cliff, which is why i guess i always feel like i am falling into something new. 

Thursday, October 04, 2018

i'm up at 5am like a lonely raven hunting the house for my keys, a sad strange figure functioning on moonlight and weed, a strange enigmatic character from mervyn peake's unpublished lost novel, mission alone.
go through the motions and get myself out the door into the fading moonlight and into the xv and along the strange route that leads to my local nexus. i try to sleep on the train, but end up reading a big chunk of viv albertine's extrodiary book, 'music, clothes and boys.'
i try to catch some sleep but someones listening to headphones and the tinny sound of dance music. but it's five fucking thirty in the morning my brain screams silently. no one sits next to me, i project an aura that pushes people away, it's powerful in the early hours. 
in the city i get my fix of caffine and do what i need to, i find a few interesting books, one on the mimiesis and representation in the arts, i flick through it, seeing some damaged pages get a massive discount. 
the first page talks as mimiesis as sympathetic magick. 
so it's me with a book on art and hours to kill. no problem. 
later in the early evening i meet an old friend and we go grab some cocktails at the arthouse where i gaze upon my fave painting in the world. 
it's been a long fucking time since i have seen my friend, to long. she's amazing. she's so talented, clever and wise i always feel so inadequate in her company. the fact that she's drop dead gorgeous is very disconcerting. what's she doing with an idiot like me. 
i think i am slightly drunk, words are falling out my mouth i have no control over, nothing is considered just a gush of whatever pops in / out. i'm falling through the stars, what's going on, i was looking at my fave painting and now i'm hurdling through space and time. 
we peck away at olives, blue cheese and some salad. there's rain in the air and the small restaurant is squished full with people but as soon as i sit down people move away thus we have room to sprawl, the harbour looks amazing through watery glaze of rain and lights bouncing off it's surface. my perceptions altered, i'm not used to being out in the city late, so much happening, people noise colour, and this woman who is really a phoenix before me. an old battered raven and a phoenix, it's surreal. 
we go see the the at the opera house. i find the first few songs difficult as the vocals are distorted and the mix is not correct but after the fourth song things start cooking. we are right at the front. matt talks a lot, i've seen the the a few times and he never really speaks much to the audience but tonight he's chatting away in that soft voice, telling us about how leonard cohen took him for dinner and gave him some good advice. talking about growing up in london. the songs have not lost any power or relevance, they still have the passion. it's a simple show, live no trickery or complex lights, just a bunch of guys on stage. 'helpline operator' is amazing and i'm enjoying hearing the mind bomb songs but most of the numbers come from 'dusk' tonight as matt speaks of his brothers deaths and the way the songs from dusk revolve around these events. last time i saw the the was 30 years ago at selinas on the 'the the verses the world' tour. most of the audience get up for most of the songs, but i stay seated until uncertain smile. 
out into the sydney night i wonder what i have done to deserve this friendship, and i hope that maybe it will last and be stronger than love even.

Sunday, September 23, 2018

she decided she wanted a proper relationship, she said she wanted a future and i'm bereft of a future. i could have argued with her but in many ways she was correct, my future with her was void, we were just operating on some mutual orgasm drive, the idea of talking about anything meaningful would have just a short conversation. we had no other future, it was true. but we had a good wave. two good waves, then a wipe out. 
i don't mind wipe outs as long as it's clean, everyone feels okay about everything and there's no deceit. i'm complex but honest. so we hugged and walked away. sexy wave.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Hail to the Element of Hydrogen
Hail to the Element of Helium
Hail to the Element of Lithium
Hail to the Element of Beryllium
Hail to the Element of Boron
Hail to the Element of Carbon
Hail to the Element of Nitrogen
Hail to the Element of Oxygen
Hail to the Element of Fluorine
Hail to the Element of Neon
Hail to the Element of Sodium
Hail to the Element of Magnesium
Hail to the Element of Aluminium
Hail to the Element of Silicon
Hail to the Element of Phosphorus
Hail to the Element of Sulphur
Hail to the Element of Chlorine
Hail to the Element of Argon
Hail to the Element of Potassium
Hail to the Element of Calcium
Hail to the Element of Scandium
Hail to the Element of Titanium
Hail to the Element of Vanadium
Hail to the Element of Chromium
Hail to the Element of Manganese
Hail to the Element of Iron
Hail to the Element of Cobalt
Hail to the Element of Nickel
Hail to the Element of Copper
Hail to the Element of Zinc
Hail to the Element of Gallium
Hail to the Element of Germanium
Hail to the Element of Arsenic
Hail to the Element of Selenium
Hail to the Element of Bromine
Hail to the Element of Krypton
Hail to the Element of Rubidium
Hail to the Element of Strontium
Hail to the Element of Yttrium
Hail to the Element of Zirconium
Hail to the Element of Niobium
Hail to the Element of Molybdenum
Hail to the Element of Technetium
Hail to the Element of Ruthenium
Hail to the Element of Rhodium
Hail to the Element of Palladium
Hail to the Element of Silver
Hail to the Element of Cadmium
Hail to the Element of Indium
Hail to the Element of Tin
Hail to the Element of Antimony
Hail to the Element of Tellurium
Hail to the Element of Iodine
Hail to the Element of Xenon
Hail to the Element of Caesium
Hail to the Element of Barium
Hail to the Element of Lanthanum
Hail to the Element of Cerium
Hail to the Element of Praseodymium
Hail to the Element of Neodymium
Hail to the Element of Promethium
Hail to the Element of Samarium
Hail to the Element of Europium
Hail to the Element of Gadolinium
Hail to the Element of terbium
Hail to the Element of Dysprosium
Hail to the Element of Holmium
Hail to the Element of Erbium
Hail to the Element of Thulium
Hail to the Element of Ytterbium
Hail to the Element of Lutetium
Hail to the Element of Hafnium
Hail to the Element of tantalum
Hail to the Element of Tungsten
Hail to the Element of Rhenium
Hail to the Element of Osmium
Hail to the Element of Iridium
Hail to the Element of Platinum
Hail to the Element of Gold
Hail to the Element of Mercury
Hail to the Element of Thallium
Hail to the Element of lead
Hail to the Element of Bismuth
Hail to the Element of Polonium
Hail to the Element of Astatine
Hail to the Element of radon
Hail to the Element of Radium
Hail to the Element of Francium
Hail to the Element of Actinium
Hail to the Element of Thorium
Hail to the Element of Protactinium
Hail to the Element of Uranium
Hail to the Element of Neptunium
Hail to the Element of Plutonium
Hail to the Element of Americium
Hail to the Element of Curium
Hail to the Element of Berkelium
Hail to the Element of californium
Hail to the Element of Einsteinium
Hail to the Element of Fermium
Hail to the Element of Mendelevium
Hail to the Element of Nobelium
Hail to the Element of Lawrencium
Hail to the Element of Rutherfordium
Hail to the Element of Dubnium
Hail to the Element of Seaborgium
Hail to the Element of Bohrium
Hail to the Element of Hassium
Hail to the Element of Meitnerium
Hail to the Element of Darmstadtium
Hail to the Element of Roentgenium
Hail to the Element of Copernicium
Hail to the Element of Ununtrium
Hail to the Element of Flerovium
Hail to the Element of Ununpentium
Hail to the Element of Livermorium
Hail to the Element of Ununseptium
Hail to the Element of Ununoctium
Hail to the Element of Captain Mission

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

oh to be in arizona, the big sky, the lost horizon. all that space to soak up. my bones felt good. i fell in love with arizona. the erotic colour of the sun, the the tex mex groove, experimental women, the lovely contrast between inside and out.
there's nothing quite as beautiful as contemplating your navel under the stars in arizona, following some time slip into a past life when the west was still a frontier and the hopi, mojave, navaho and apaches built their civilisations. 
it's such a flush of overwhelming emotion to be home.
the pull is so strong, irresistible gravity always at the heart. i should go there again. 

Sunday, September 02, 2018

a wet old sunday leaves me alone on my day off, contemplating the navels and other bits of a girl called anna marie, she lives in arizona a place i do love, she's really beautiful to. those legs go all the way to heaven, yes they really do!
after a quick chat, many internet problems to cross, i get stuck into some domestics. polishing wooden floors until they are so slippery and shinny i keep falling over. it's like an old black and white movie, i'm poking my body with the mop, slipping and sliding, its only a matter of time before something hazardous occurs and i'm out for the count.
i manage to finish cleaning the floors but then i look at the kitchen, cluttered and messy and i shove everything away wondering what life would be if i were married. i guess that all depends don't it?
a lot of people i know are married and miserable, men and women. some seem to be fine but you don't really know what goes on in private. one mans dream is another's nightmare.
i manage to do almost everything on my own, it's bloody hard work and there's no time left at the end but i somehow plod through. this season is plodding season, there is no cash left, there is only debt and work.
the debt will hang around for a while, i just have to tighten my belt, chop wood carry water. 
rain comes, it's almost welcome, i guess some farmers need it more than myself, some sunday's are better than others, this is just a dull sunday, indifferent lean and penetratingly mundane. i look like i'm working but really i'm not, just moving one pile and making another. 
something blows in the wind, leaves shake and shimmer, shapes take form and my imagination stretches the fiction. when you stare at the tree long enough it stares back at you. or was that an abyss? 
it's hard to tell one from the other, it's almost unreasonable to ask. 

Sunday, August 12, 2018

in answer to your question, i use blogger. now.
the game is afoot, as holmes would say. i have done it, created stage one on my project, and it looks okay, i have had good feedback from the people i trust so that's excellent. it's a work in progress but i will keep at it until it is perfect. 
there is stage two now, which i will begin sooner rather than later.

Tuesday, August 07, 2018

escape plans are taking time, the idea is sprouting and the roots are taking but i'm dependant upon certain skill set i don't possess and in australia the mafia control everything, corruption flows through all strata of society so i have to pay the right people in order to move forwards. 
either way, it's going to cost me. that's the nature of business in australia.  

i don't think my partners ever really appreciate my work and how it can interfere with a relationship due to intensity of the types of people i work with and the residual impact shift work has upon the idea of a social life. time is not broken into days, weekends, hours like the rest of the gen pop. it's a rhythmic routine only i can adapt to, but when you want to go to a dinner party unfortunately  i will not attend. 

it's like me turning up at their place of work and saying, 'hey let's go see a band.'
'okay babe, when are we going. i think andy and cath are free saturday night, we can grab dinner after.'
'no let's go now.'
'but i'm at work.'

yes, that's the fucking deal. i work antisocial long hours and am often dealing in extreme situations. i can't just leave clients and come out to a party. it's nuts and unhealthy. one day i will find someone who understands this aspect and is not so selfish they cannot tolerate it. 

Sunday, July 29, 2018

i'm back in the thick of it, i have a headache already. boom boom boom, inside my head, as i deal with the needs of people. the formula is flawed, one can never give enough attention to some units. they are broken and beyond repair. i see this now, it's krishna on the battlefield. no buddhist nonsense holding us in check, my sword is merciful and mercifulness. i am the eye, the arbitrator, the magistrate, the administrator, i'm the hip executioner saying last rites first while my blade cuts through. if you fall upon my battlefield prepare for resurrection. 

Thursday, July 26, 2018

last few days to enjoy the winter daze, perfect blue skies, immaculate surf, i traipse up the hill known as skillion, from where i survey the magnificent pacific. we can see the schools of whales as they pass by, a few breeching, flippers wave in recognition, i am a whale man now, they hail me as they pass. 
transmissions are sent, i have returned from the north and wish them safe travels and play. i send them good vibes, and tell them to avoid the humans.
the climb up is hard, my body aches, my lungs work overtime, upwards we go. 
behind me lays the terrible town, it's besides the sea, it's gleaming in negative ions, winter angles and light. angels dance on the head of the pin here in terrible.
i clamber back down, along the path like a wayward pilgrim, head into the heart of the town, where if feels like a summer in the warmth and casual atmosphere. people party outside the hotel, a band plays and girls laugh as they spill cocktails in the afternoon fun.
it's where i am. it's where i want to be. 

Monday, July 23, 2018

when i arrived in australis there was a nationwide manhunt, the uniforms, the banks, the govt. were all searching for a fugative named john fredrich who had set up an entity known as the national safety council, modelled upon thunderbirds and international rescue john received the medal of order of australia in relation to his service.
little know to the authorities john had already faked his death on the italian alps after embezzling money from a german road company. 
the banks and investors, including the govt were bewitched by fredrich who had the charm and allure of the most brazen confidence trickster. 27 banks had handed over millions and several had fallen.  interpol and all australian forces were out looking for him, and eventually tracked him down to a motel in perth.
although he had been given full security clearance to australian defence forces it was discovered he was not an australian citizen and did not possess a birth certificate. 
just before the trail john fredrich was found dead on his farm with one single bullet wound in his head, and then there was nothing. no media coverage, no mention of the millions he had stolen, no coverage, it was as if he had never existed.
during those early years i found this fascinating and asked several people if they had heard of him, all said no. it was as if i was imagining this whole event and there was no record of his existence or fraud.
while john awaited trail he agreed to write his autobiography and was recommended a friend by his bodyguard. 
richard was a young man, struggling to be a legitimate writer in tasmania when he got the call from the mainland, they had agreed to publish john's bio and richard was asked to ghost write it. he did, it's called 'codename ioga.'
fast forwards 2018, award winning australian writer richard flannagan writes 'first person' a novel based upon the events that occurred while richard was writing 'codename.'
wow, it's an ingenious novel, a slightly gothic tale with some brilliant writing and strangely humorous elements.
but the best thing, the one certainty is my mind can be trusted, richard fredrich was real, he did exist despite very few people acknowledging him, my memory served me well. 

Friday, July 20, 2018

back from byron bay i gaze at the glorious winter sun as it passes through the leaves and onto my tiny lawn. bird sing out welcoming songs, the koo and kaw of the feathered beasts, colours flash and insect sing. 
we drove like madmen, it's pretty much a straight stretch at 130, although there are numerous slow areas where roads are being widened. the further north the warmer, the more space and consequently the more relaxed i feel. the water is still, ocean currents retreat as the tide is pulled by the moon. i see strange patterns upon the sands, pass strange small towns and villages, pass landmarks and stop for coffee. i piss in side streets and laneways of remote beautiful places where no one passes, no people in sight, the sky stretches out, and as evening comes the universe swallows me up in stars. 
i find my place, uphill the arts factory, a zen like spa retreat, azabu. the rom is perfect as is the spa. and i sleep like the lord returned from the hunt. 
morning light filters through tall trees as i read my book in the peace, on the balcony.
byron is a resort town, once a place of healing, now filled up with backpackers and hippies, cashed up city executives and movie stars. it's beautiful but also expensive, it's magickal in the same way avalon once was and i am constantly reminded of this connection. shops are resort shops, with resort prices, the streets are packed with festival goers, the market throng with good food and produce. 
i do my business and head home back through the night. azabu, perfect place to spend a night. 

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

i sleep in, it's rare but i'm exhausted from working. my bones ache, it's so cold my blood is solid, almost. i'm smothered in layers, jeeping warm in my safe little zone. i drag my ass out of bed around 0900 and get some coffee, do chores and shopping. finally catch up on domestics by the time sun penetrates it's stinking hot and i'm resting, reading the book of the year.

stupidity surrounds me, it's part of the culture now, it's global. i'm convinced the left are the right, the real news is fake, the war on terror is the war on error and western democracy is on it's knees. war is imminent, possibly with china on one front, but if your clever you will research and see how china has been at war with the west for many years. 

all the west has in it's defence is hedonism, pleasure and it's alluring values. look at how islamic terrorists visit brothels and strip clubs, watch porn before committing their jihad, it has a fatal attraction but not strong enough to confront the programming of jihad. in china the party pay their citizens money to purchase properties in western cities, the history of warfare in china is absorption, the rice method, such are their numbers, as the west declines, tick tock, rotten from within, the steady march of tolerance towards the intolerant, the capitulation to islam since salman rushdie wrote his novel. the way media make their un sponsored news, the abc being the prime australian example. it's pathetic such a news station is sanctioned by the tax payer whom is smarter than the elites who run the show. 

i ponder this and come to the conclusion adaption is necessary, i am surrounded by morons, idiots and fools, opinions, tv drone like personalities and pointless existence and somehow they all gravitate to me because i am different. they befriend me but as soon as they find my weakness they exploit it. i have come to loath people, come to despise the pathetic ignorance as they believe in stupidity over reason. the ufo priests, the conspiracy nuts, the hippies, lazy socialists, the post capitalists, the journalists the politicians  the governments, the endless talking heads puking their stupid opinions as newsworthy, the faux spiritualists, the religious, the womens movement, the mens movements, the party, the fucking lobbyists  the anti party, the inner sanctum, the outer spacers, the comedians, the dramatists, the host and the guests, the warmongers, the peacemakers. i hate you all because your mediocre and wear the same face. 
all that's left when you strip it away is escape, and the best way to do that is alone. or at least with a good book, some great sex and a few of your fave plants.
oh! you can stay.
peace out. 

Sunday, June 24, 2018

it was impossible to estimate the size of the creature, it was elastic in size and could stretch out and fill any shape, like an octopus. people had recorded it in a human form, walking bipedal. there were u tube video's that showed the enzyme in a shopping mall, it was shot on a galaxy 11 smart phone. a silhouette figure walking into a westfield, initially a small crowd just stare but moments later panic spread. hysteria kicks in. you can hear the screams, see the look of panic in peoples eyes. whomever holds the camera phone must have nerves of steel, they hold their ground and film the enzymes movements, from slightly higher, maybe a platform of stepladder. 
the thing is constantly shifting, made of liquid yet solid, parts of it stretch outwards, it glides along the floor and the two legs seems to sometimes merge into one pillar, which acts as a base.
it moves a few meters into the complex and then suddenly an limb stretches out, smashing through a glass window and the creature then follows it like a giant slinky toy. it's no longer in the camera frame but we can see and hear a bizarre slurping noise as though pumping liquid fast. in some frames we can actually see the surface of it's skin throbbing as it ingests.
we know these things were originally designed to absorb non biodegradable plastic, an australian / french biotech company developed it in 2018 and the first enzyme was released into the ocean in 2019. a few months later a fishing vessel returned into a newfoundland harbour with three dead crewmen and a damaged stern. the survivors claimed a black sea creature had been trawled up in the nets and attacked them but no one seemed to believe them. 
after that a few sightings became urban legends, seafaring mythology. 
occasionally one of the late night news channels would run a sensationalist story but then the sightings became irrefutable and then a common occurrence. much like shark sightings, the enzyme creatures inhabited secluded spaces, avoiding human populations until they cleaned up the oceans, cleaned up the forests and wilderness and then on the hunt for plastics started migrating towards the cities. 
governments created an industry designed to terminate them, but nothing seemed to kill them, extreme heat, cold, bombs, poisons, gases and radiation all were ineffective. 
the p e squad or pee squad as they were known amongst the more cynical were able to relocate the enzymes but that was all they could do. there was talk of entrapment, in a sealed chamber and then the chamber launched into the sun but so far this was just white noise on the net.
in the video the enzyme now appears as a pool flooding out from the shop and then assembling itself as a human shaped figure about 7ft tall. it marched towards the next shop it could find that stocked plastics and repeated its absorption. the camera man then starts descending. 
we see the creature in a children's toyshop filmed from behind it is now a blob standing upon one large column leaning into a stack of plastic infants toys. the body pulses with it's rippling effect, the sound of slurping gets louder. a strange tentacle buds from it's back and shoots across at the shop front opposite, a distance of several meters. it smashes through the glass and starts sucking on some plastic boxes, absorbing the material. another bud begins to form, the camera then backs away fast. we hear heavy breathing and see the various viewpoints as the camera seems to trace the walkways, then the face of someone still running, obviously holding the camera. 'fuck, it's chasing me, i'm going to...'
the camera phone is now thrown forwards and it bounces on the ground before coming to a standstill.
we can't see much, just the ceiling but we can hear screaming. a black shape slides by.
there are many other videos but that seems to capture the enzyme best, it shows how it has grown and how it moves. plus it's the only one that offers proof that it is able to take the shape of a human. 
underneath the video we read the cameraman was a man called oliver z ramoz, and his body was found torn to shreds in the mall in various places. they say a pee squad arrived on the scene about an hour later and by then the creature was gone. it was never found and remains at large.
plastics have long been banned, but so have the enzyme that eats plastics. it's just a matter of hunting them down. 
there are several eyewitness accounts of them recreating themselves by splitting apart like an amoeba although no footage exists. 
authorities speculate the only way to get them under control is to starve them of plastics. 
there's another video of some children in norway whom create a trail of plastic bags and them film with another phone camera. the enzyme (a smaller one) following the trail, absorbing each bag as it approaches. they lead it into a glass trap and then alert the authorities. this idea catches on amongst the young and across europe and north america children begin to devise traps for the enzyme, but the enzymes seem to develop some sort of morphic resonance and learn how these traps work, eventually children are killed and the practice banned. 
in my communion with the whales over the last few months i have accessed information which i believe will help combat the enzyme, the whales are very grateful for human intervention into cleaning the ocean, they have told me there are no traces of plastics left, which is why the enzyme is on land. 
the whales are ancient strange creatures, they sing songs and collectively dream. although they have no technology they have mindware. the problem is mindware in whales only works in harmony with peace and tranquility, it is not possible for a whale to use it to create harm. but a human, a human is destructive in nature and can use mindware in combat. they download the thinking technology into the in-qubit, it feels like a rush of wind inside my neo cortex. 

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.