Thursday, August 21, 2014

i'd really love to get to the city and see sk play some glide tonight but it's impossible given the conditions and commitments i have, maybe tomorrow i can make it. it's going to be difficult, the stars will have to align but god knows, i'm jonesing for my fix.
i really am a fucking idiot sometimes, i emptied out my mailbox only to find a cd, fortunately it survived the rain, it's the new kilbey kennedy commissioned songs vol.2 and i'll be playing it tonight after sunset. i also found a few bills i neglected to pay.

in that fragment of sunshine, that pocket of splendid light i blitz the garden of libertaria formally known as the sactuary in madagascar libertatia.
tatia is latin for sorry and taria as 'relishes' therefore i am not sorry but rejoice in freedom as should all people. liber translates as 'free.'
yes digging, planting, working with stone, earthing myself to a reality transmission. under watchful eyes of the birds, kookaburras and their friends, the trees and plants all part of me, all attuned, all within my own ecology. this is my green movement, it's present, it's now, it's earthed.
pan is bemused by my toiling, my bones ache and sweat drips down my spine, he watches the absurd tasks of a canine sisyphus, carry water, chopping wood, for the animal kingdom aesthetic is quite different from human. but my garden begins to take more shape as i offer my muscle and manicure it's edges, oh behold the beauty. my shovel thrown down, my trowel abandoned i look around and begin to see my work. and it is good.

Monday, August 18, 2014

i don't know, things get a bit freaky when i speak to my family in london and all they seem to say is there are thousands of people marching outside their doors shouting, hitler was right, finish the job,' i do my research with some reliable sites, get messages from trust worthy sources and yeah eurabia looks lost to me. i used to write about this stuff a lot, warning about the caliphate but then i stopped, i didn't wanna be negative and i liked some elements of islam, just as i like elements of other faiths. the problem is these days it's unfashionable to be a freethinker unless you are pro islam, socialist and belong to the green movement. so much for freethinking. to me these people are not using their brains or they are brainwashed, or they are as my good friend krishna says, already dead.
jews are not lizards, not responsible for fucking banking systems, in fact, they were excluded from europian banking and therefore set their own banks up, not fucking part of some conspiracy and zionism is 'only' a belief that jewish people have a homeland in a the middle east where they originate from.
the internet is filled with hate, pushed by these so called free thinkers, facts don't get in the way of them, reason certainly doesn't. planet x, the london olympics, 9-11, had nothing to do with zionists. yeah maybe some jew was involved somewhere in these things, there are criminal jews as well as everyone else.

when i was a kid i was forced to play with my parents friends kids at the weekends, horrible fucking jewish kids who i never liked at all, even when they grew up into adults i had nothing in common with them. apparently ashkenazi jews are quite different from serphadi ones (of which i am one) at skool i was always reminded i was jewish by the other kids, and if they couldn't bully me for that i was to dark for their tastes. fuck i've experienced racism from almost every single person i've known. 
some of my best friends hate the jews, some of them are convinced jews run their lives for some reason or another, most had never met one but once they met me it brought out their inner fascist, jesus i think, if it wasn't jews, zionists or fucking west indians who would there be to blame. fortunately it was always the girls at skool that stuck up for me and defended me, even against my nazi teachers who loved humiliating me in front of everyone else. 
my best friend at the time always defaulted to some moronic statement when he wanted to exert his power. me, i'm not religious in the slightest but i'd be constantly reminded about my identity externally. the more it happens the more jews are convinced israel has a place in the world. that's the fucking irony the left and islamo-facists do not understand, unless of course there's a counter conspiracy. that once all the jews are in one place it's easy to enact the ultimate solution. mmm, yeah there's something to think about. 
the nazis convinced the germans that jews were sub species, monkey's and rodents, they used some sort of science propaganda documentary films to brainwash the population into murdering six million of them in the well oiled machinery of germanic efficiency. the same patterns are seen resurfacing today, not by germans but all peoples from all over. intellectuals who are so dumb from group think, journalists to frightened to actually report the truth, socialists who have aligned themselves with hitlers best friends the radical islamists.
isis suddenly deemed bad by the world, who do you think hamas are? stupidity spreads itself like a virus, only israel is judged by a standard that no other country is judged by, that is anti semitic means. we tolerate the stoning of women, even the left wing feminists will not dare speak about it for offending their sympathies with islam. while yes, israel it far from perfect it's it's an incredible country, so fucking incredible the rest of the world hates it and delegitimises it's very history and culture without once questioning the details.

the final solution failed, so i guess people have to upgrade to the ultimate solution. i have respect for hamas, at least they are not deluded about who they are and what they want, which is to kill jews. i don't respect these other who cover it up with some sort of intellectual conspiracy all because its on a you tube feed or facebook. the worse are those idiotic jews like pape, lowinstien or chomski. they number about 0.04% of the total jewish population yet get a hell of a lot of exposure on in the media, guests at conferences and book festivals, yeah fair and balanced representation on our abc and bbc. (check out the balen report) 
the festival of dangerous ideas will always have some stupid moron giving a lecture on 'why israel should not exist' hardly a dangerous idea is it? half the world things that!
a better dangerous idea would be, 'why israel exists.'

zombie apocalypse. i saw it coming years ago in a dim witted, dumbed down europe where free speech restrictions were rampant, groupthink spread throughout the population and multiculturalism worked well until the zombie horde started chowing down on the brains of the individual. 1984, animal farm! read those books and apply the aspect of your brains that have been dumbed down, critical thinking. 
it used to be taught in classical education but now it's not even a university subject, it's the last thing they want you to know.

what about the palestinians?
if they voted for a government that accepted israelis right to exist they may get a government that does not squander the billions it receives in aid on weapons to destroy it. and consequently peace although i have no faith in this happening.

what about those settlers - scum, i hate them, send them back to america.

what about the khazars - i don't know. mass conversion sounds plausible to me. look at the way people embrace some religions now, god knows the influence that will have in a few hundred years on the political landscape of say, china or russia. in russia now most of the army is muslim which would be awkward if russia goes to war with a muslim nation. 

the west has never understood the middle east, it's always made terrible mistakes there. it still does because it cannot fathom a culture so vastly different from our own. a culture where dictators wield power and use force and brutality to keep everyone in check, these guys will not be ready for democracy for thousands of years. the middle east is tribal, it always has been, it's confused by the global arena, the west should leave it alone and let it sort itself out rather than applying some emotive value to it and looking through the prism of morality that makes no sense. inaction, capitulation translates as weakness.
israel understands this and is equally conflicted as well, a modern technological women friendly western culture in the middle east is perceived as an abhorrent, yet is has just as much a right to be there as the english or dutch man / woman does in sydney. 
internally it's population are split, people are fed up with fucking war and survival and having to justify their existence every single day.
eventually all these lines in the sand will disappear anyway, the geography of the world shifts endlessly. countries won't be defined by location but ideology but not for a long time. these are invisible countries, like internet sites and forums.

the ultimate solution - hack your brain, discern information, expel the pathological intent, detach from the hive mind, be an individual, stand out and up for the kind of freedom you desire not some stupid ancient book, not some fanatical leader, not some you tube video, not some trendy artist, not some meme that enslaves, not some fear of being different, not fitting in, not being accepted. fuck that, i rather have no friends than be a zombie.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

sunlight streams into the morning, casually news from afar accompanies it, riots, demonstrations, family in distress, nervous and worried about the state of eurabria and what they face.
'history is a pattern, leave,' i suggest, 'better to die on your feet than on your knees to the black sun.'
'they are everywhere, it's incredible.'
'yep, everywhere, in all shapes all guises, some were probably your friends once upon a time.'
'we have no friends here.'
'then at least you know who the enemy is.'
'is this what it comes down to?'
'for us i guess. it's the darkness coming for light. you can't ignore the facts, it makes you part of the problem.'
'what do they want?'
'they want your light.'
the line goes dead and part of me goes dead to. 
i wander around mission control thinking about how detached i can be from the hideous reality of the global mass mess, fuck them, humanity is over rated anyway. if the zombies don't get you, ebola might, how many horsemen do you need? one's fucking enough!
my little pocket of paradise, coloured birds fly in for breakfast, lorikeets, crows, lyre birds and king parrots. i feed them some seeds, the water dragons run to me in their cartoon animation, legs flaying out. vibrant colours of life fill the garden, pan watches a kookaburra who is perched upon a tree stump. i find it hard to look out at the carnage, it upsets me, the vacant tragedy, soon they will come for the stumps.
even here, there is carnage of sorts, if you were a bird it would be hell, environmental catastrophe. 
mission control offers safe haven, they come, they know. captain mission of australia, don't have the same ring to it as francis of assisi but what the hell. it's a safe house for the homeless creatures of the world.
we all bask in the morning light.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

i woke up one morning in the zombie apocalypse, it took me a while to get a grip on the landscape, but the undead stood out with their sympathies and political ideologies, calculated hate and pathological protocols. i took myself down to the clinic where professor x was dissecting a brain from a still raving body, it was twitching and spasming like it was in electrical ecstasy, it even had some reflex speech,ranting on about some jew conspiracy or the other, occasionally it's hands would twitch. he had it tied down to a big metal table. 
the top of the head was sawn right off and exposed brain still throbbed. 
'mission, hi, grab that pair of tongs,' the professor pointed to his work station. i gazed down at the array of tools and instruments. 
'these long ones, or the short ones?'
'the short ones and pass the clamps.'
i looked for what i thought may be clamps, the professor had a vast array of tools laid out in a mess on his bench.
i passed the tools to the professor, he was opening up the brain with a scalpel. some weird white cranial fluid spurted out in a jet.
'that's not sexy at all.'
'i have to keep the central nervous system functioning, i can't detach the brain stem but i can look inside this area, the limbic system is modulated by this node in the cerebellum.' 
i watched the professor holding up what appeared to be a strange little pod attached to some brain matter. 'this may be the problem right here. it looks like the synaptic reflex is calcified, permanently fused which explains the pathology.'
the zombie blurted out some kind of inverted babble it must have learnt from a you tube video, or picked up at one of it's mass demonstrations. 'wow, is there a cure professor?'
'no, one must aim for the head, it's a zombie apocalypse.' 
'is there a point to understanding the physiology then?'
'i'm a scientist, of course there's a point.'
the zombie twitched and made some incomprehensible sounds and then went silent.
i ate an apple, flicked through a magazine on exotic travel, put the kettle on and rolled a spliff. 
'professor, do you really think science can explain this?'
'no, it can understand the material density of the matter but the problem is an esoteric one which is your department.'
'mmm, cosmic war man, light vs darkness, it's all in revelations, everything becomes inverted, it's impossible to tell, either you get it or you don't.'
'well what does your intuition tell you?'
'aim for the head.' 
i passed the professor the burning bush.


Sunday, August 10, 2014

wake to the congregated sky as it's torn asunder by pink light in a band. i watch its movement, touch it's face, stick my hand up in the air. the day begins, the drive, the flicker of thought leaves my mind by zen discipline, by ease and electra-glided flow, i blink out of existence, everywhere and nowhere for some peace and a cold hard shot at tranquillity.
when the synaptic kick in i hit the ground, muscles do their work, physicality becomes clear.
spring will be upon us soon, my tasks involve building a perimeter, i think in terms of stone, large sandstone blocks would be good, but also the idea of tall grass, ferns and tropical plants. i see it in my minds eye, after the tree carnage i am left exposed. does a man hear a tree fall, the answer is yes, i heard them fall, i felt them fall. the shock hit me hard, although fallen myself, i staggered down for my coffee with the birds only to find the barbarians had levelled the whole bushland behind me. two days later i'm still in shock, such carnage, my bird friends are spooked, they want answers i have not got.
i feed them and ponder my immediate problem, security. mission control is left vulnerably exposed. 
i can see myself in the garden for the next three days digging up dirt, planting trees and manicuring a perimeter. 
the idea depresses me at first, i rather just read plus i have a book to finish, but i must face the task. the task is my reluctant priority.
pan looks up at me, he knows the score. he is old now, slowed down so much it's quite a shock for me, he no longer even wants to come anywhere with me, his world revolves around laying in the sun and dreaming, food and water. i feel a scene of time edging it's way in to our soft lives, pan and i, two lone travellers thrown together by fate, a strange relationship, that this beautiful creature should love me so completely, that my birds come and visit us, the reptiles run down my path, the fish swim towards me. i am francis of assisi, a solider returned from war, not a good man, not a bad man.
the carpet of cloud blanketing the sky has dissipated, everything awash with coordinated blue. 
the fabrics are sewn, the song is sweet, the time is now.

Saturday, August 09, 2014

the strange empty space that lies between us, how i travelled that distance, alone and isolated, reaching out, desiring some form of reconciliation. gave away this, gave away that, for what, a terrible price, an endless wrath, the fury of the world. it's all so hard, so wearing and hateful. 
doesn't hate just exhaust you? it exhausted me and now it's just a dying ember, yet for you it's the perpetual drive, age after age, irrational, pathological, it overwhelms everything, like an angry chaos. 
language is inverted, passions enter dangerous zones, history hijacked and rewritten, conspiracy after conspiracy all unravel, ignoble endings pile outside the door until the very sun is blackened, the bones of the dead are not enough and never will be, not while there is life. it's life you want to extinguish. my life.
when you see a river of blood baby, does history matter?
time is a strange illusion, those tibetans we emulate were once brutal killers who tortured millions of chinese and now the chinese are brutal captors of tibet. what does this say? 
you were born at one point and know only one point, yet your own existence is not one point, it's process within a process, an event. a 4 dimensional worm from inception to death, therefore perception is process to. baby it's is all insignificant in times ocean, karmic forces pull and push, cyclic patterns ebb and flow, but your own one single slice seems to be the sole focus of your attention, by proxy compassion. soon that compassion will appear abhorrent as the players are revealed, the forces of darkness are barbaric yet still you wave their flag, the forces of darkness will kill your babies, will stone your women, will execute your christ, buddha, goddess, spaghetti monster, the forces of darkness are the black sun incarnate at war with light, illumination.
it's coming, it's coming now!
choose your side because if you sit on the fence they will kill you to.


Monday, August 04, 2014

i drive through the rising dawn, watch the black night draw down a blue day, the highway empty stretching out, i head north in some sort of conquistador overdrive, into the frontier. 
home, what a fantastic feeling to be home again.
the shower hits me, pummelled by hot water, i come alive again.
the door bangs, it taken my karmic broker ages to arrange a visits, she's let herself in and stands on my shag rug flicking through a book on hindu love gods.
it's good to see her, we kiss, hug and kiss again. 
'mission, very nice place you have, now what's a girl have to do to get a latte around here.'
'come, sit down, i'll fix you.'
we wander into the lounge where she spills the contents of her case on my floor, glossy brochures, papers and a lipstick pack, some keys and a few pens and a sexy looking mobile phone. 
i make some coffee.
'so what you doing here?'
'i have some documents for you to sign.'
when i sit down i flick through the paperwork, she's stuck some yellow tabs where i need to make my mark. i scrawl my signature across the pages, 'what's all this about.'
'money management mission,' she fires back at me, 'you need to get things in order.'
I must look disappointed.
She hands me the coloured brochure, 'read this, it's all straightforward.' 
My face must give my thoughts away, 'jesus, i'll never open this let alone read it.'
she flicks through it carefully showing me the tables and graphs, my karma looks good, she tells me how to invest some here, some there, i nod my head and start falling asleep.
'come on, i'll take you for a drive.'
the car is a sporty one, it's got spoilers and slots over the bonnet. the windows tinted and when i sit down the seats are like the seats of a space ship.
acceleration pulls my body into the mould, i can feel the engine in my bones. torque as the turbo kicks in, and then next thing i know we are parking in terrible beach.
the ocean looks fantastically vivid, electric blue against a bright yellow sand. we drink iced coffee and sit in the sun.
'so, i'm sorted karma wise.'
'yeah, sorted, it's all growth.'
i feel happy. yeah real happy.

ginsberg asked burroughs,  'what is death?' 
his response: 'a gimmick. it’s the time-birth-death gimmick. can’t go on much longer.' 

Sunday, August 03, 2014

took some time out on a train north, looking at small towns pass me by, sporadic bursts of human activities, monuments and towers but mostly bushland, rivers, the ocean. way up the northern coast line, i had my head buried in my book some of the time, sometimes i dozed into a deep train sleep, mostly just looked out of the window at the wonderful landscape.
i got as far as maitland and came home, watching a vibrant rich red sun hanging low over the horizon, the splendour of being so far away from everything touched me deeply, i felt the rays warm my skin and penetrate, their energy pass through my bones, i dreamed them inside my corpuscles and let them become me, like the days of old. 
somehow i ended up having dinner with wild childe, some late night noodles, some gourmet hot chocolate in a crowded noisy cafe. i told her some of my escapades, some tales about the past life. she laughed because i was wearing my pyjamas, extremely unfashionable, trying to be serious, in trendy towns, just having a laugh. 

Friday, August 01, 2014

of heaven i remember the world of man, it was an illusion of density, causing much pain and suffering from which the escape routes were closed to many. religion had contaminated spirituality, just like politics contaminates freedom. 
i abandoned all known causes of man's memetic pollution of eden, i wandered through forest fern and orchid, the woodland creatures showed me the way, the oceanic forces healed my wounds, the cosmic powers attuned my minds eye, the spiritual world knows war and battle to but it is fought in a purity where one really does love thy enemy. 
i remember the fear, the sickness, the hate, the perpetual cycles of history repeating itself over and over until all one could see was the blood, no telling from who it came, man woman, child, pagan, fascist, communist, libertarian. there would be no kingdom on earth until one finds the kingdom within. 
i remember the words of the sages who penetrated this veil of tears, they sang it out for us to join in harmonies and joyous raptures. 

Sunday, July 27, 2014

i am neither here nor there, neither unknown or known, nothing defines me, no politic, no religion, no belief other than what i need to evolve or break through the strange existence of tears and fears.
winter pains me, i don't feel right in the cold, in dampness that rots the bones and hurts my lungs. i don't like the rainfall penetrating walls and dry places, leaking through cracks like some abominable creature hp lovecraft described. amorphous monster, the past haunting me, london calling. misery.
the cold is my enemy, it chills the blood and freezes my motion in the thick soup of the moment, i retreat. 
along comes the sun, i sit in joy soaking it up, the birds are out, rejoice. my coffee is the defrost agent, waves conform, patterns emerge one again, harmony.
my breathing is clear, the damp waterlogged sadness leaves my flesh, bones, spirit. break out the coconuts, pass me a spliff, rejoice. it will be time to emerge from winter months soon, spring will come and we can dance with abandon under the full moon and celebrate the turning of the seasons. 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

another time, inhabiting the spectral splendour of mission control, nocturnal sounds of strange beasts clamouring from their resting places, old bones creak, skeleton cabinet murmur, the rubick cube of mystery night as the moon calls dawn it's ancient tide. i wander the darkness, illuminated by some cold fire between my eyes, the central nervous system operating inter- dimensional. cosmic eye, perception of patterns upon patters, star maps hidden in star charts, multiverse within the universe, all embedded within and without. one step forwards, any direction is pointless, we are lost in deception. we deceive ourselves until we believe in the truth. 
here the wand is waved, spells cast, a maze of thought bubbles float away, some burst open, some catch the breeze, some just sink without trace, some go and evolve into great ambitions and forms, islands in the fabric of the world. 
science fiction writers produce ideas in narratives, the atomic bomb was an idea, satellites were an idea, submarines, helicopters everything starts as an idea. they go outwards into the ether, and some are plucked into reality. how does this happen, magickal theory suggests it's in manifestation and  invocation. 
i've been wondering about this, minds linked by intention but unable to know this, the ultimate detachment to result, detached by time and space. the sigil is encoded into a novel or drawing and expunged into the universe later plucked into a receptive mind and actualised by the time that mind exists in. this would conform to non locality and entanglement.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

i plugged into the cosmos baby, with my dream coat dmt downloaded info dump, i see the game, the players, the rules and all probable outcomes, don't believe me! don't really care, it makes no difference, we are all space dust dancing on the head of a pin. 
i cast my sigil into my universe, i spell bind my enemy with a flaming sword, symbol of my intentions, i move like the invisible ghost in the machine, dense perceptions only revealed to those who know how to see with a mindful eye. 
there is a mighty force called chariot, it's often superimposed with lions and large cats, flames abound but not temporal heat, cool fire, light in dense talk.
i'm in a bar in newtown talking with a friend who doesn't speak symbol, he's a lecturer in philosophy, american guy. smart enough to keep me on my toes, i like him despite his rationality. he confesses his secret past when he took lsd and i congratulate him, every man should sup from this cup be they knowledgeable.
he don't speak symbol but his logic is doubtful to my finely attuned cogs.
i speak with some cats from melbourne, reveal far to much about myself. i fall into the uniform fantasy of a girl in a coat with an innocent face and nice heels, something about those librarian girls.
i escape the city, back to the world of waves, ocean form pounds relentlessly like the thought of soft sensuality. earth beautiful and bountiful, earth, makes the sound of soaring and a word is formed. earth the host speaks the laws of life. 
contemplation time, the atrocity, it's everywhere, exhibited for the alien, for the intergalactic judges, for concerned gods, high intelligence. mankind, does what it has always done, divide itself, shed it's own blood in a rite of tribal violence and lust for power and control, it's ridiculous to say one side is guilty and another innocent, an absurdity drives the problem further away from the solution, is light right, you need a darkness to know. manufacture the outrage, compassion only makes me angry these days unless it's from a space of non judgement. who knows what's going down, do you have all the information, are you so right that all evidence cannot change your mind, hate is enslaved by the conspiracy, hate is the ultimate game of thrones. only love will win in my world but what do i know, i'm just the non prophet of doom.  

Saturday, July 12, 2014

next door close by in space lay's pearl beach, beautiful and tranquil most of the time.
yet today the terrible events permeate into my sanctuary, imagine this,  a child of 5 plays on the beach, a safe beach with a reputation of being child friendly. his family watch from a few feet away. this is a very normal situation in australia, my son spent his first 10 doing this, everyone fortunate enough to be by a beach does. we all know surf conditions, we all follow the rules, especially with children. so here is situation normal, when something so random occurs, a wave sweeps the child away. 
i've seen waves like this, been caught within their invisible currents and force. the child just vanishes. 48 hours later the search still continues, the family know the worst has happened, there is no body washed up, nothing but an awful memory still raw and still being processed.
how does that happen?
what can it mean?
what can something like this teach us all?
love every moment because everything changes in the blink of an eye.
love is all that matters.
death is indiscriminate.
somethings have no meaning we can fathom.
this event made me very sad for all the people who have to deal with this kind of situation, for all the children who suffer be they at the hands of religious nutjobs, political fools or just fate. life is indeed a veil of tears from which we have to rise somehow.
i send a silent blessing to those children and their families.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

terrible beach far away in time, i watch the surfer a lone longboard rider out there on the crest of perfection, man i wish i could surf like him / her. the board flies away from under it's rider, shooting up into the blue skies like a marlin.
i flick through my newspaper, drink coffee with my lesbian friend phoenix, the day has barely started and yet it's already frittered away. 
i have to pull myself away and formulate a plan but i'm pulled towards a need to clean mission control and do some domestics. the dramas of the last month have made my usual responsibilities slid, so i attempt to rectify this half heartedly.
for domestics to really work i require the correct music, so i spin the new lana del ray cd and follow her voice into some semi erotic landscape where french women meet california beach culture and everyone has a story to tell about some broken romance. 
in another life i wonder the possibilities of being a film director, what type of films would i make. 
i'd like to try one of each genre, horror, science fiction, detective, love story, rom com, action. i'd invert the normative and exploit the politically correct reality we inhabit. people from the smh and abc would give me a bad review because of this, but i would take this as a sign i am on the correct track.
my horror film would be about evil in human terms, how everyone holds the capacity to do bad things under the circumstances, there would be no blood or gore, it would be about good people slowly changing, it would be about the real horrors, war, slavery, the commodification of life, the exploitation of the planet and humanities inability to co exist with other species, it would be about good people motivated by what could be perceived as good intentions but ultimately they to are part of the evil that manifests in humanity. the ultimate climax would show how we are slaves, all of us to forces outside and beyond our rational knowledge, how strings are pulled, how people are engineered and manipulated without even being aware. the horror is the director is of course manipulating the viewer as well.
the science fiction move would be about first contact, only it would be with an alien so alien it is abstract in nature, spores (hat's of to vandermeer) that infect our minds and alter the way we live. i think i'd have to use annihilation, authority and acceptance as templates here. there is no point in attempting to be original as vandermeers trilogy nail exactly what i am going for. of course steve kilbey would be invited to do the soundtrack, only he could do it. 
for a detective story i would shoot in black and white, set in a nameless city, possibly about themes that revolve around identity and karma. i'd want to keep the story and script as interesting as possible, slow pace, slow burn, carefully considered characters, tarot archetypes, the lead detective, possibly female uncovering the truth about the nature of reality. 
the love story would be about a prostitute and one of her clients. they never have sex but come to love one another deeply.
suddenly i realise i would never make these films, these films inhabit my mind as films i'd like to create but don't have means to do so. so many stories, ideas float through my head, in micro time, split infinity.
lana sings her songs, the skies are true blue, the dog dreams and my place looks cleaner although piles of paper shrines need sorting through, but i abandon that in favour of my book, i'm hooked as it reaches a climax, must finish...

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

the shit went down today, i walk in shambolic in black, i wear my cosmic pants and captain's hat, like a seafaring man returning with bad news, from distant travels, i pass through glass cubicles where the workers look nervously in my direction, you can see them wonder as they follow me with their eyes. led by managers and top level bureaucrat, better sit down and open a bottle, listen to my tale. 
i have my second mate with me a woman who knows the score, she commands respect, a talisman. sitting down we do the small talk, then i tell my tale, occasionally interrupted for questioning. 
one day i will write about it, strange story where i'm cast forwards as spokesperson for the disenfranchised, but these upper management types have no idea of my nature, no idea of my background, no ideas of the force that empowers me. 
two and a half hours later they have understood and then i play my ace card. jaws drop, it's a good moment if i had an ego, but i'm feeling nothing but sorrow for my nemesis, compassion for my enemy as they are slayed by truth, i am detached, for i am not truth but it's vessel. 
outside on the streets my first mate gives me a hug, 'you were brilliant,' she offers.
'you were brilliant, your strength was mine.'
i mean it.
i drive home, long day falling asleep on me, i get some calls from interested parties who were concerned. 
i have to mention them, my karmic broker, jeff the interstate counsellor, the ace card without which i would have lost the war and the great spirit who flowed through me and i praise my enemy, i'm sorry but your demise was determined long ago by a universe of beauty truth and some sort of justice i know exists.   

Friday, July 04, 2014

okay, the walls are closing in, one wall is the face of an ego of my nemesis, the other is my clients, the other wall is my responsibility to all parties and the other to myself. 
bureaucracy is a beast, sluggish in it's efficiency, stumbling here and there, one cm forwards two cm back, wobbles here, wobbles there, looses itself in grey areas, is bleakly blocking the sunlight, in crisis mode it's two prime directives.
how can it stop itself being sued.
how can it stop the press finding out.
this is what bureaucracy does, it has one weapon, the face of mediocracy. it has one weakness, the spirit of humour. 
bureaucracy is no dragon, no unicorn, it's not alive with any coherent altruistic interest, it cannot care, support or nurture. 
the bureaucracy by nature are filled with smaller elements of itself, self preservation is instinctive and often without higher intelligence. the people that work there are automatons, limited processing power outside of generating paperwork, policies and procedures. the lights in the buildings of these institutions are artificial brain zappers, the colour scheme slows innovation down until it marches backwards, the dull ambient hypnotic throb softens the sharp edges of the mind.  
not me though, i'm captain mission, champion of lost causes, the disempowered. i can't escape the walls but i can move around outside them, everyone underestimated me, they big bosses in their ivory towers, the masses of paperwork they generate the huge dept. that they exist within all designed to crush people like me. ha, but i've always been outside the box. i say to my boss you have no power over me. I say to the gravitational pull of this huge construct you have breached every standard and ethical principle you promote, therefore i win. to my clients i say, i will protect you, to myself i say i am already dead, already fought the battle, win loose, it makes no difference, it's about being true to myself. they never seen anything like you captain mission. they use fear against you and now they are fearing you, as you laugh at their grasp over control, laugh at how the harder they grip the more it slips away. 

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

everything zen this morning i had that moment, feeding my old fish. he was dying when i inherited him, pondman said he's only got a few weeks left, old mangy thing, his eye all bulbous and wretched, skin looking awful, colour faded in decay, deaths shadow upon him. he's lived two years now, his colour and life force returned. 
so this morning i'm feeding him, it's almost hand feeding, his senses are not sharp but he's got spirit. i like his oriental mouth, it's hilarious. like an ancient kung fu master, a bit like yoda, as his mouth opens and closes i think he's trying to telepathically communicate to me. so i stand there and as i throw each pellet down in front of his mouth i get this really zen moment where i am the fish and we are all one, part of some process of nature, connected and unable to even intellectualise it, just what it is.
for a moment i was no longer captain mission feeding a fish, i was not even aware i was human, i was just in a zen moment.
it felt strangely satisfying, everything in place for that one perfect moment. i wonder if my fish felt it to.

Monday, June 30, 2014

now i understand it, that dream, it was me obviously, you were me. my anima. you always were really beautiful, can i write that without being vain, ha! 
it's so obvious now but it's taken a few days for the clarity to come. i must be struggling with hope and despair deep down, i know i am, i do. experience has made me cynical, the antithesis of how i once felt.
the world is sorrow, it's impossible not to feel the onslaught of suffering, the more you know the more you hurt which is why escape takes it's forms, painkiller!
drugs, books, sex, fantasy, suicides, all end the pain.
i understand how compassion works, not just why it's important but why it's easy to be compassionate to almost everyone else except yourself. am i just getting older. will i be an angry old man, can i escape that? got to let it go mission, even that is just an idea your crazy old subconscious threw at you outta the blue but man did it shake me. and why are you my anima?

Sunday, June 29, 2014

it was the future, bright beautiful sunny morning, cloudless and soft, curves in the air, no harsh shadows, these were glorious days, i had a spring in my step, bouncing along the street making my way through the gardens up the path to the hospital gate. 
big trees cast big shadows, some people sat in their shade, drinking coffee, laughing and chatting with visitors. i was on my way to see you, i think this must be where you worked, art therapists or some sort of sexy art nurse, loved by everyone, darling of the doctors and surgeons, with their elegant style and material sheen, confident auras and ultra white teeth, clinical people would have found you an anomaly, people just stood next to you for the healing to begin. you've always been spirit to me. 
i watched it all from some peripheral, maybe it was vivid in the recal, maybe it all had that lucid dream vibration. I don't know because i was dreaming. all i know was that i was deliriously happy, the lightness in me as i floated up those steps into the side doors where they all waited for me.
some man grabbed me, his arms swung around me pulling me away, work colleagues of yours betrayed their secrets, their concern spilled out through clenched teeth and fierce agonised eyes, but i was slow in my dream, not sure if they were concerned for me or someone else, they pulled me into a small room. leather seats, that worn green fade, dark woods, dark musty corners, like an experienced psychiatrists office. i could see a few volumes but couldn't make out the names. the light was soft, coming from a lamp. 
'something's happened mission.'
'i'm just on my way to meet...'
and then they told me, the words came out like physical things, bricks heavy and weighty, bubbles soft and light, like synaesthesia my sensory organs were cross wired, i could hear black hammering down my heart, my brain taking it all in, it was to much.
i woke up in total fear. 
my dream life often intervenes but this was awful, i was shaking and sweating cold fear, i just wanted to see you again absent friend. i just wanted to hold you and tell you whatever it is going down you can talk to me, you can tell me anything any time, it's safe, i'm your friend, albeit terrible as i have not written or rung in years. 
but in my dream it was to late. 
something bad overshadowed you, it came out off nowhere and took you from me, some weird destructive energy inside your head stole you away and i didn't even see it coming. 
i think i even felt guilty, just fucking guilty. that's why i sent you a text outta the blue, i couldn't bare the thought of a world without you, it's inexplicable enough. 
now i look back on that dream and it was the perfect day, walking to you, all that expectation, all that joy and then as soon as i walked through the doorway, gone. the nighmare.
guilty because in my dream i was deliriously happy but you must have been feeling something darker than i could fathom. no one knew, it was a shock for everyone. 
the end of the dream was fading and my concious mind interfering but i think you failed in your attempt, apparently it was violent and savage, you were on life support and i remember walking up to a window and hearing the 'beep beep' of the machinery, i couldn't walk in there cos i figured it was your call so i stood there as my other life leaked in.
i wandered around in the morning, i was outta whack, i had to sit down and collect my thoughts, nothing seemed important. nothing was, i wanted to just run towards you and hug you but i just sat there, i think i cried, fuck, i don't know, it shook me.
when i got a text reply from you i kinda wanted to call you immediately but i'm probably just an old man now, sitting in my sun room watching the birds in the garden. i'm not the person you knew all those years ago, i'm not the person in the dream, i'm not skipping through the sunlight with joy in my heart on the way to see my wife. i'm just captain mission, a man.      

Friday, June 27, 2014

clive palmer just proved a point i have been writing about for years, he played the left wing media like a maestro, lulling them with his anti abbott persona, wooing them with his outrageous statements against the liberal party, courting abc hosts and audience until they heard with their eyes at the al gore debacle press conference where he pulled the plug on the carbon tax, the ets and let the clean energy act slip through. he had al gore take the hit, basically endorsing liberal policy, he had the sydney morning herald, the abc and the guardian all applauding him for his anti abbott stance and then two days later they begun to wake up to the reality of the facts.
the greens, labour and their apologists had no idea of what happened, they were under his glamour and here in lies the problem with theses journalists and so called tv commentators of the left. they do not know how to be journalist's or political commentator's they have been brainwashed. they have an ideology that they push even when it's proven to be a lie, and they all swallowed up palmers play because they hate abbott so much, the truth didn't count in the story.
palmer is a selfish oaf, but he is smart and he just won the game of thrones, giving the liberals exactly what they wanted. the clean energy commission will placate the greens and labour but the facts remain, palmer played them for a pack of fools.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

it really is a thin line isn't it?
between hope and despair, there lies lifetime's, the oldest story you can find, the battle between light and dark, played out from the beginning, played out right now, every decent spiritual truth nails it, every spiritual path leads to it. it's in space, look at the stars, there are more now than there was in the beginning.
does that mean the light is winning, i don't know. it means there are stars in the darkness, some shine bright, some dimmer, some are long dead and gone, but some just get born. every man is a star, ever man can be a star, a sun or a black hole out there, sucking up light. one day i will look up and see light everywhere. 
that's the prime directive, forget everything else, it's just your fiction, just your drama. the war between light and dark is a thin thin line, sometimes you may find yourself undercover, and as the mighty tao teaches all light beings have a little darkness within, all darkness contains light and the riddle like the inscrutable chinese equation, is that hope or despair?
jesus forgave his enemies, imagine that as a teaching and apply it. buddha let it go, apply it to your own belief and need to be right. krishna teaches how all is illusion only the internal battle matters. are you winning?
then there is hope.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

i mentioned in an earlier post i was involved in a legal case with a client i support, the beneficiary of a large sum of money. the family are squabbling over the cash and i got sucked in by my employer. but as i followed my brief, my boss didn't, she became envious and bitter that i was involved and she wasn't so she decided to feed the other side information, resulting in a massive legal breach and putting me and my client at huge risk.
she should have been removed but i guess they need to investigate further and decide what they want to do. it's bizarre that this situation developed, she only has herself to blame but the atmosphere i work in is hostile and volatile, lot's of stress.
this sort of stuff happens a lot, i'm envied by peers and bosses because i get on well with the clients and they like me. i was moved from one place i worked because i got on TO well with the clients and parents. the dept i work in is littered with personalities who are dysfunctional bullies. this seems to be the case all over australian society and i have said many times the economy would improve if managers actually knew how to manage rather than bully.
imagine that!

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

shot by both sides- magazine

no government on earth has it's own peoples interests at heart. governments have been corrupted by globalists agendas and the new world order and within a few years we will begin to see the technocrats dream of the cashless society emerge. then the linkage of credit to carbon, and then the surveillance of every single individual on earth. the grids are there already, of course this is sold to us in words that are digestible, 'sustainable, environmental, progressive and inclusive,' cos we all know language is a virus. these technocrats have it sewn up, the mass flux of ammunitions, just look at the shootings in sydney in the last few years, racial tensions escalate, fear propagated until the civilian requests more control for it's safety. and there you have it!
'but you asked us for it,' president joe says, 'you asked and i gave.'
the really scary truth is most good people will bring this upon themselves thinking they are doing the right noble thing, i mean who don't want to save the environment or not be a racist? 
the problem is information is manipulation, everyone has an agenda. the goodies are the baddies the baddies are the goodies and they make you chose a side.
that's the real problem.
anyway it's coming no matter what side you chose....

Sunday, June 22, 2014

my doctor says my health is excellent, he says the results all indicate i am in good condition but wants me to have further tests as being an old man now i am prone to certain weaknesses. i agree that it is possibly within my interest to continue with the medical model but warn him i will not take pharmaceuticals unless i'm in terrible pain. my stoicism makes him laugh.
i tell him about how arthritis medication assists bald people grow hair but seems to have no effect on the arthritis.
this is a recent example.
i tell him how all the skool shooters in the usa were on anti psychotic medication. 
it's weird as i normally don't advocate my own world view upon others unless its face book and there you can determine my attitude by what i don't post over as well as my posts. i don't like to spread fear and division, but at the same time can't ignore it completely. the natural response to the human condition is depression, i think we should acknowledge this, if you are in anyway sensitive or aware you will shed tears. but this in most cases seems to be treated with anti depressants, and i think this is wrong in principle.
it can be summed up by the antithesis in the statement, ignorance is bliss. for the truth is ignorance is ignorance, bliss is bliss. bliss must be worked for, it is discipline and mental yoga, it is impermanent. ignorance can share these qualities but tends to hang around a lot longer and kept under suppression by medication, consumerism, religious and political indoctrinations and various memes that drive us away from liberation, keep us trapped within the maya. 
i think there is a place for pharmaceuticals but it's far to powerful an industry, far to over used and far to insidious in it's unnatural nature. the whole industry seems to be based around stopping spiritual emergence more that stopping pain. if that's just a side effect i'm uncertain but it is a definite resulting condition.
i wonder if those buddhist monks get depressed?


Saturday, June 21, 2014

human has been, failing at an unpredictable velocity, cutting tree and burning up the atmosphere, building stupid things, chasing dumb ideals, megalithic structures that have no intrinsic values, believing in all the wrong things, our dytopian future at the hands of the unimaginative control freaks who's vision is blurred by power games.
watching the warring factions hack each other to bits, watching the children being used as weapons in their war, watching some dumb stupid desert people squabble over imaginary lines in sand, kings and gods, watching the inevitable rise of stupidity.
the west has never understood the east, it's always made the same mistake, backing the wrong team, cultural relativity, dividing to conquer. the enemy of my enemy is my friend would work if the enemies enemy was your friend as well but even after 4000 years there are no friends, it's every man for himself. that's the law of mankind, survival through independence, default nature no matter what we aspire to. 
there must be a better way to live?
those cats in the amazon, hunting and hanging out in trees, drinking vine, watching the light and spaces between, star gazing friends, those cats know how to live better, safety in small numbers. 
their enemy is time, as it eats their home and strips away the nature. our enemy is stupidity, but alas, stupidity is everywhere, it drools off university lecturers and graduates, it falls from the tongues of commentators and experts, it's given away in fast food restaurants like plastic toys that get stuck in the throat of young children, it's emanating from tv, it's falling from the skies, it's hammered out in blogs, it's thrashed in chords and major sevenths, it's washed up on plastic beach islands, it's rotting brains, minds, imagination, hearts and spirits. we had the bronze age, we had the iron age, we had the space age, we had the technological age..and now we are smack bang in the middle of the stupid age! 

Thursday, June 19, 2014

it's strange how things can effect me, take for example lloyd cole whom i really liked when he was a rattlesnake, i liked his literary references and saw them play heaps of times in london, berlin and various other cities. however when i came to australia it was a long time between gigs and i grew bored with most of his output as a solo musician. but then one day i saw he was playing the basement so i bought a ticket.
now in my early days in sydney i was a regular at the basement, love the venue yet this night when i drive from avalon to the city and parked and queued up for lloyd, the people at the door refused to let me in. they gave no reason just said they wanted the clientele to be of quality and i was not suited.
'but i have a ticket.'
'well if you read the small print it says we can refuse entry.'
'who the fuck reads small print when they buy a ticket.'
'if you don't leave we will call the police.'
'i want a refund.'
needless to say i demanded a refund and eventually they gave me one.
i never returned to the basement and never will. i never played a fucking lloyd cole cd ever again, and can't stand him when he dissed the church apparently. so there you go, my loyalty has a boundary.
later i discovered the basement had been taken over by new management, they seemed to want an aryan clientele or some uber cool type of zombie which is ironic seeing as it's a jazz club and jazz kinda has black roots. 
you know what was amazing about this, i was in a huge crowd of trendy inner city fuckwits who never even bothered to defend or protest at the management at my treatment, whereas i make a point of intervention when it comes to this sort of injustice.
anyway, the basement can go fuck itself, and so can lloyd cole.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

vast ego distorts as expanded compassion, he gazed at events beyond his sphere of influence, he cried and sobbed, his wrath and anger, his words label and define in ways only he understands yet hopes to influence herd mind.
this is the man who walks the righteous path, above all self enquiry. casting aspersion and blame, fault and expostulation. this is the man whom leads his fellow man down division, oh man love thy enemy, love him when you kill him, for they are dead already. love him when he kills you for they are dead already. love is the law, love is letting go.
i drive to buddha with my new friend phenix, she tells me about her project and it agrees with my strange ambiguous nature, we talk about the old days in newtown, we talk about the world of dating, what a crazy experience this has been for me, we talk about all things on the verge of all things, devotion and listening. my car needs a service, it makes uneasy noises and feels sluggish and listless, my body hacks up some strange chest pain, sharp shooting severe side spasm takes me to emergency status, they send me to get an ecg, they suck my blood, they x ray me. 
i hate all this shit but it has to be done, my life feels ancient already, yet i feel i were born yesterday. it's strange to be waiting for death, have i had a stroke, a heart attack, some sort of weird psychosomatic affliction. i breath the pain away, i look for the raven, there he is in front of me. am i at peace? yes, i am at peace. is this my time, no! old man you have many years left but let me remind you all things must pass, and your flesh is in decline, your bones haunt you, your organs pound onwards in steady resolution that the ghost in the machine drives them into tomorrow, and when old captain missions number is up, its up so let it go.... 

Monday, June 16, 2014

following annihilation comes authority, the second in the 'southern reach trilogy by jeff vandermeer, not quite annihilation 2 as this novel takes place within the agency responsible for sending expeditions into area x over the last 30 years. what we find in this strange sequel is what happens to an organisation that has failed after decades of attempts to investigate an inexplicable  anomaly that seems to have no interest in communication whatsoever. have they been effected by area x already?
i got off to a difficult start on this one but after a while realised that the writer was not going to explore the same territory as the first book, here he looks much wider at the implications of how the southern reach ('authority') works in an kafkaesque and orwellian way. 
this is an excellent book, it challenges the reader profoundly and although there is a slow pace to the writing it appears to reflect the surreal creepy alienation that occurs within the story. it's the best horror novel / sci fi novel i have read for years and it's quite original and well executed. this guy will become huge i think because he is literate and very clever. makes total sense why the church would want to write with him.  

Saturday, June 14, 2014

the elemental creatures, they huant the night, full moon over the astronomical significance of a cyclic parabola, some read tea leaves others planets, some see a future past others see past the future. 
i see the soft apocalypse, curtains reveal the wizard a wreck of a shambolic human pulling strings and opening doors, zaya-bong i believe. he smokes roll up cigarettes with mexican tobacco and has skin withered and ancient like some old used map. he has teeth like a graveyard and eyes that left the living a long time ago.
zaya-bong talks to some creatures, insects and catfish of man, he's not speaking in tongues for glossolalia was glossed over for symbolic hand gestures, the kind you find in old grimories and enochian literature, not quite an exact science for it means nothing, all show and posturing, an unkind glamour. the beasts don't care, they have a list of demands, a black  heartlessness, a stupidity that borders brainwashing zombie intelligence and the last one demands a moral weakness o' great wizard, give it to me now.
zaya- bong coughs, he turns to his assistant, 'give the people what they want.'
some exchanges are made, the representatives of man snatch the gifts in their greedy hungry paws, stuffing them inside their persons absorbing the energy like vacuous pumps, not even examining them once and in all likely hood mistakes have been made.
the wizard don't care, he's left already for his weekly blood transfusions and medical exams. the assistant has already left the building in a stretch limo. 
as for the three, why they are already returning to their peoples bearing the wrong gifts of unnecessary ruin and calamity. 

Friday, June 13, 2014

first book of a trilogy sees an anthropologist, a psychologist, a surveyor and a biologist enter area x, a strange ever shifting geographical are where an event occurred that has quarantined it from the world and set an indefinable border around it that may or may not be incrementally expanding.
the all female team are the 12th expedition, where all previous expeditions have returned deranged, detached, suicidal or afflicted with aggressive cancers we follow the thoughts and perceptions of the biologist as they discover the spiral staircase that leads down into the earth.
our biologist sees this as a tower and as the team enter they are subjected to the bizarre and alien experiences we have come to love from the author. 
i read this book in two sessions, it's quite brilliant, reminiscent of jb ballard and hp lovecraft, the writing is exceptionally beautiful, the story horrific and yet beautiful, can't wait to get straight into the next book in the series.

Sunday, June 08, 2014

it's not everyday i come across a book that i want to read again as soon as i finish, i'm two thirds through and the unusual feeling of an immediate re read came to me after chapter one. 
here is a brilliantly articulated intelligent document of the conceptualised idea of... baphomet, a much marginalised and misunderstood idea, often hijacked by fear mongers, chaos agents and fundamentalists. the writers nikki wyrd and julian vayne chapter by beautiful chapter expand on baphomet as they almost will it into creation. it's everything i believe in one elegant slim book. what a brilliant piece of work this is, buy one now, thank me later.
a dawn drive after the rain, sun blazing across the horizon, casting into shadow, indelicate contrast. the road is vacant as my module in cruise mode fly's along. i pass the huge rock formations, ancient stone, geology slow time intersects dream time, strange portals for the pineal gland. 
i pass the glistening sky, vivid blue vibration as i approach the excellent waterways, small town surrounded by water. people pass through stop to buy a drink, end up staying for years, lifetimes pass by in the blink of an eye. i myself a married man spent a few years with a nordic woman as my wife, her blue clear eyes and pale skin, her golden hair and ambient nature. the memory faded as the water passes, and the road curves uphill into fog.
where did that come from, a dense patch obscures all environment, now would be a good time for a song but the player is vacant, my car cleared of music. 
out of the fog i emerge, blasted by sun, a born again sun washes over everything as i turn off the freeway and into the bushland, where tall significant trees honour the boundaries. 
i turn into the small obscure road and see pan waiting for me in the sun. he's all knowing, super sensory. home is good, home is where i arrive.  

Saturday, June 07, 2014

the warm spell banished as forty days of rain falls, the damp air keeps me inside, reading various texts, a little himalayan honey tea, some fresh lemons. 
the world outside looks washed out and cold, like a norwegian autumn i stay home for what seems likes weeks but it's probably just a few days, the phone don't ring, there's no sign of intelligent life anywhere. 
the reptile in my roof makes a scraping sound, the dog looks forlorn as rain falls, birds make a noise but remain hidden away. 
i play some tori amos, it irritates me, unlike kate bush whom has a certain grace about her. i do like tori but she's no kate in my book.
i end up watching a documentary on insects but i give up halfway through, i watch some politicians speak at the d day ceremony, i wonder if they will mention the 20 million russians that died, i doubt it. it seems crazy they fought that war to stop a totalitarian dictatorship that thwarted democracy and individualism, and then 70 years later formed the european union which is pretty much the same thing.
i fall into a soft sleep, dreams half form, faces leering from the ether. i drive into sydney, there's a break in the rain, the clouds form a lattice across the skies, no stars but it's clear.
there's no traffic. if an alien space ship were passing overhead now would be a good time to land. i watch the sky. no intelligent life here.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

in the frenzy of my multiple realities, as i combat adversary's, situations become more bizarre and extreme, my plates still spin, my juggling act in full swing, any moment now one of those fine china things are going to fall right on top of my head and set stars in orbit around my noggin. 
i leap from here to there, all my fruits are in the air, apples and pears, blueberries and zap fruit. mmm mangoes and coconuts, assuming a coconut can be described as a nut amongst fruit.
well here i am in the grip of some inevitable medieval sickness, a renegade virus has struck me a blow, run down like a penguin in a straight-jacket on the santa barbara freeway. that hacking cough, the sickly fluids, will they ever stop, the awful soreness at the back of my throat, constricted and restricted, intense pressure and unbearable load. the blurred vision, the throb of cranial black hole as gravity collapses inside my skull. i have to work, my people are also struck down, we are all equal here, everyone is sick and i'm the last man standing.