Sunday, November 29, 2015

Saturday, November 28, 2015

choppy surf, unpredictable currents deprive me of my morning surf. two days have passed and my body feels wrapped in a thing, a thin skien of strange artificial coating. it slows me down, makes me sluggish, pervades my power. 
i stand on a wall staring out at the massive chop, it's terrifyingly close, very rare at terrible beach to see such chaos. in my mind i reach out and into the quantum foam, i pull out some strange asymmetrical patterns and try to divine some meaning. it's difficult, as though tangled in a spider web as it wraps around your face, slowly mentally unwrapping and remaking a web with big fat fingers of clumsy mental imaginative precision. the nameless one inhabits here, the borneless one, 'a heart with a serpent' as my dead friends would say. 
i distil a 30 minute ritual into nano time, using quantum thought waves, no time for zeroes and ones, a ritual is still a ritual under the conditions of space time. 
the crashing thunderous roar, the random power inherent unleashed, all is explicate chaotic order of quantum entanglement transformed into an algebraic implicit order. 
the clarity starts in my head and spreads through me like a new light in space. i laugh and jump away from the ocean as white light baths my fingers and black light enters my blood, atoms smash around my collider creating new structures, new neural networks expanding, shifting out into society, i am a strange attractor, not a loop but a spiral.      

Monday, November 23, 2015

in surf i surrender to intuition, my body knows when to catch the wave, my mind eases outside itself in some sort of submission and ecstasy while my body, it's atomic molecular structure and organic synergy understands completely what how and when. it happens outside the rational zones, no technical skill here. it's a perfect relationship, that zen kick and the thunderous massage of water as it pummels against my torso. the horizon dissolves like all dimensions, theres a velocity from everywhere, but it's internal now. years of perfection into some sort of yoga, soar plexus yellow energy like iron mans chest disc, i have achieved mastership of waves by not being master of waves. instinct knows when to turn my fin against the ultimate union of elements, just before the crash, no broken bones, no high impact just a twist and a turn as i land feet first with elegance and beauty. for a beast like me this has to have some consequence.
the rest of the day my orgone energy is high, negative ions radiate from my head like a bulb switched on, magnetised and attracting the watery significance.

sense of an ending, thoroughly english, from it's characters to their sense of ill defined communication and habitats. i'm overwhelmed by the feeling of an extremely brilliantly constructed novel that climaxes in a revelation where the reader has to do all the work, there's more unsaid than written in this book so answers are not obvious yet it's a joy to read as it's so rich with philosophy and mundane complications.
friends at university tony and adrian's trajectories are about to intersect by variable time and unreliable memory as we the reader feel complicit in one mans discovery of his past and the death of another. but facts are slippery, events never what they appear to be, and julian barnes subtle little novel tackles grand issues in a elegant and refined way. a really worthwhile little novel if your inclined to be led astray for a couple of days.     

Friday, November 20, 2015

inferno before dawn, i'm up very early laying awake under my ceiling fan covered in sweat and residual erotic dreams. i text my friend, a man i met by accident in a central coast coffee shop. he introduced himself and latched on to me. i liked him a little, he was a londoner, jewish guy who seemed to want to take me under his wing and guide me into his flock. 
he was bewildered by my being. my hair, tee shirts, surfing lifestyle, attitude to the world, knowledge and yet like all those i come across a little intimidated. therefore during the course of the friendship he always inflated his sense of self, called himself a spiritual leader and told me all the things he could do for me, people he knew and i bit my lip and listened quietly. i listened and we had a few laughs, i incorporated him into my morning routine, he very kindly drove me to the beach each morning and sometimes let me have a surf, but as his need to control increased would sabotage my time in the ocean. i paid it no heed. he said he was a great spiritual leader, not that i ever figured him to be spiritual at all, but he kept introducing himself as one, couldn't he see the irony?
i could but i weighed up his company, his offering to buy me the occasional breakfast and his willingness to help me enter his fold, the community with his abrasive manner and ego. 
one day after he harassed me for not being a great part of the community  i said to him, 'fuck the community, i don't want to be in a community of anything. i hate the whole idea of communities especially this one. those eastern suburbs fuckwits, all gold and bmws, all glam and materialism. i never met a more selfish fucking judgemental community in my life, they covert everything from thy neighbours wife to thy neighbours job.'
so i got the cold shoulder from the spiritual leader who said i was not very traditional. it's true, i am not interested in any tradition other than perhaps a magickal one. i believe and know god and she loves me, i have faith in her... the rest is bullshit. i take my truth from elements of all spiritual truths and my critical thinking, my experience and knowledge and my ability to take off my head every now and then and write a new program for the time.
anyway the friendship continued but was rocky, everyday he had to get his digs in, repeating his conquests, the famous people he knew, the business deals he sealed, yet all i saw was desperation and futility, a tragic old man who was loosing his way. i kept my mouth quiet and offered some support, i baked him some healthy cakes, gave him some relationship advice, just tried to understand we were different animals and he was unlikely to change into an octopi. but the more time i spent with him the more he pushed me, wanting to enter that horrific competitive bollocks that guys get into, he wanted to show off his skills at being involved in various community groups, choirs, committees and social groups. occasionally he would boast about his electrical skills, how he was inundated with work and contracts and how he fixed various establishments lights circuit boards and cables and then demanded a free breakfast, and often got it. i'd seen this part of him and it was ugly, it was this expectation he relieve 'something' rather than just change the bulb to do a good deed. he justified everything with weakness. he told me of the people who disappointed him, friendships he ended, loves lost and i began to see he was indeed the problem not the other parties who were probably as frustrated as i. 
this morning he exploded as i made him wait up the street for a few mins, he screamed down the phone and said he was 'hot' in his air conditioned van, he implied he had texted me to say he was waiting, a text i never received and then he left me after raging his fury and anger. 
so after my surf when i had my coffee in my terrigal coffee shop he was there hiding away in the corner stuffing his face with bacon fat in secret (so his community wouldn't see him) the spluttering drivel emitted was something like, 'don't expect an apology from me' and then i told him i didn't because he was a selfish arrogant bully of a man who should be ashamed of his behaviour.' 
the waitress came over and asked me, 'your friend is behind you, don't you want to sit with him?'
'he's not my friend,' i said, 'he's a fucking disgrace.'
so the heat burns up friendships here in australia, it consumes everything and i realised i don't have many friends at all anymore. i have the birds in the garden, the fish in my pond, the  dragons and the handful of people i seem to have managed to keep in my circle. agent stone, val and olga and a girl in the shadows, so and i do some work in the garden, sweating away like some sort of slimy amphibious beast channeling my energies. later i fall asleep under a fan and i get a text from friend who invites me to a gig where he's playing 4 songs and i can't go due to work. i'm really saddened about it but i'm heart filled as i do have good friend's i may not see or hear from a lot of the time but they are there in that consistent way and for that i am ever grateful. 

Thursday, November 19, 2015

the sun blazes through extremity, bushfire season in hell, the land already takes it's claim in life. australia is a dangerous place, it's wilderness will consume you, the creatures will bite, the women are lethal, the men drink to forget. 
yesterday was a furnace, today the mercury rises, tomorrow shows no mercy. 

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

weather shifts, moves in and out of gear, unpredictable. i watch a howling wind bending the trees in my garden to snapping point, i have to take a step backwards and brace myself as they threaten the fabric of mission control. the tall tiger grass swirls around in anger even the gentle palms are swaying violently, old fronds flap and fall. it's a sea storm, i think as i take the wheel and batten down the hatches, waiting it out.
next it's sunshine, blue skies appear, birds emerge with songs from a disney cartoon and even pan bathes in the sunlight like a tired old beast who's found peace at last. the atmosphere is truly schizophrenic. 

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

antediluvian sun gods bless the earth with glory and magnificence, dancing upon the ocean surface in magical delights.
technology kneels before time and magic as i walk out into the waves, half blinded by love and half sighted with a love. slip away like sublimated sin, slip under the surface of wet skin, the shades of blue's traverse the depth, from shadows of hinted formation comes bursting densities and exploding perceptions. i astral travel my body is left behind, neptune takes me in his arms and whatever form my spirt takes feels safe and at peace. my body left a long time ago, when i was younger and somewhat innocent.
eons have passed and neptune returns me to an older body, this one i find myself in emerging from the depths, sensation floods itself, the water is everywhere, the soft elegant resistance as weakened muscle swims upwards, following primal instinct, towards light. only now i am aware of the need, like some heroin fix the need is in every atom, over riding all desires, cancelling out every requirement but the single lung bursting sensation for a fix of oxygen. propelled, kicking harder the surface breaking like an explosion of soft glass as my mouth sucks it down and my face bathed in light. 
i find the shallows, sand stretches through my toes, my body moves upright towards the shore, to the land. i fall down exhausted, slightly confused. i am returned, but older, in a body that feels different, older heavier and riddled with aching muscle. my hands feel my face and my hair is longer, beard had grown over my chin. 
the brightness sears, the harsh truth of enchantment tears into my flesh. 
i walk over to the surf club and throw myself in the shower where cold water washes away the sand and delirium. i look upon my reflection in a cracked mirror and see i have aged, i am older than i recall. many years have passed in my absence from land, there are many changes, transformations and the condition of the outside to inside is askew. i sit down on a bench watching the surfers, i look out at the horizon, light flickers here and there, a few birds swoop down, a dog splashes around the sea line and memory is leaking in a pool at my feet.
some sailors speak of being adrift in wrecked life rafts for years living upon raw fish and gulls they catch with their hands, some speak of islands that became a sort of home until they were discovered by passing ships. but me, i was taken by neptune himself and lived in his realm, swam with the dolphins and octopi, the sea horse and shark. i had adventures and lifetimes within lifetimes, married a mermaid, made love and went to war. i was happy as prince amongst the oceanic cities. but then came the war against progress, as man took our friends from the oceans, killed out families for food, dumped toxins in our sustainer, ravaged and raped our home. the tide ebbs and flows but man is a fool that is cruel and has a million ways to inflict its will. 
i watched my cities fall. every retreat took us further away from truth, every attack was weakened by the enemy's ignorance. and then i made a deal with neptune, it was hard to have him agree, our weapons were useless and tactics to righteous.
the homeopathic cure, fight like with like. fight mankind with a kind man. i have returned. to walk among you. take me to your cities, take me to your populations, politicians, teachers, skools, universities and medias, for all kind men come to mankind with a message that repeats itself over and over, demonstrated by anti science. i am the miracle, and magick is my message. 

Saturday, November 07, 2015

i'm almost finished the very brilliant illuminating and enjoyable book called 'the magical universe of william burroughs' which i've devoured with a lot of pleasure. 
if you feel inclined to hack yourself, and then make several excursions into hacking  this reality thang, this is a great primer and a good place to start. of course the concepts and ideas are much more sophisticated these days, but in these pages one is presented with an organic version of what most magickians would know and use.

click on the link buy a copy and read it
a fleeting windy rain swept visit by my brother who stays one night and leaves the following morning was pleasant despite the awful weather and our exhaustion. he unloaded a book written by my cousin about divorce, and gifts from my folks and i loaded him up with some books and balms to return. 
it's been an extreme week, demanding, draining and difficult. i really feel stressed out, somewhat exploited by the people i work with who seem to do nothing and leave it to me.
i'm working many extra hours which i am taxed heavily, i have no choice but that's the way it is in this crazy country as we drift towards a socialist system. there is no incentive other than my own drive. 
sunday morning i read brendon o neils column in the australian, fantastic journalism / opinion piece by a true intellectual. a brave man indeed, especially as he is a marxist by self definition. he postulates the intolerance of the left, the division they create, the hypocrisy and double standards based upon ideology that squashes free speech and humilities and bullies it's opponents without intellectual debate or reason. with me he's preaching to the converted, i know this. the left wing in australia are the most ridiculous nut jobs i've ever come across, happy to fall into the trap of the banking and united nations while decrying the people who want some sovereignty. anyway it's to late now we have malcolm running to his masters, the guys is a fucking pawn and should be hanged for treason, selling us out to the IMF and UN both rackets for one world agenda.

Sunday, November 01, 2015

finally on sunday morning the day stops, daze of rest. i find myself with time to contemplate the previous few days, it's been a blur. long hours, loads of demands, telephones ringing through the night, hours of negotiations and strategy. i'm exhausted from working but that's what i do for a crust so i can't complain. 
anyway plans for today, get to the city, meet val in newtown for hash cookie antics. 
pan is back to normal, healthy, happy and mostly dreaming his days away in the sun. it's a dogs life.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

dawn finds me heading north, my module cuts through areas of dense fog, the highway empty my mind fluctuating on sleeping or surfing. it's been a long night, the long night of nights and i'm feeling the weight of everything. at the last moment i decide to head to the ocean where i throw myself in and catch a few beauties. all stress washes away, all tiredness and wear and tear heals, oh great oceanic energy, i submit to you.
i read the papers, i can clearly see where we head, the road determined by the club of rome and the technocrats, the great unveiling as populations are mesmerised by kgb mind control techniques. in the cold war russia poured it's billions on mind control of large populations, now the united nations have that knowledge and use it considerably. i eat some food, drink some coffee and read between the lines. information requires pattern recognition, i know the pattern because i know the end game. i know how to see therefore i know what to look for. beware the united nations, beware the left wings moral superiority, beware the geo political game of thrones, for ultimately there will only be one left.
i relax and watch the waves, thinking about sleeping for the rest of the day when my phone rings. i'm requested to write an urgent report, i have no choice in the matter and they want it now. there goes my sleep. 
on the way home i get pulled over by the police, random breath test, i joke with the policeman when he ask's how i am, 'drunk officer those tequilas i had for breakfast are far to strong.'
he's got a sense of humour and laughs.
i get home, shower, climb into bed and ten minuets later there's a knock at my door. it's the local jehovah witnesses, turns out i know one of their sisters so in the spirit of charity we have a chat about faith and love. my phone rings so i say goodbye and close the door, it's my brother. he has arrived in sydney. we chat and then there's another bang on my door. it's my neighbour telling me he thinks someone has run over my dog.
i take it in my stride, always good in emergencies i deal with the shaken driver, i find pan hiding around the back, blood everywhere, he's limping and looking really worried. i pick him up and put him in the car and drive to the vet. the journey is strange, i'm in tears and thinking how awful it would be to loose pan, he's been with me 14 years, longer than any girl friend and fuck it, he's saved my life once, he's indirectly even got me laid as girls find him irresistible and after showering affection on him inevitably turn to me. that hound and i are best mates, everyone knows it. i stroke his head and reassure him, 'you're going to be fine old friend, everything will be fine.' 
but i don't know that for sure and i'm already thinking the worst. the vet looks at him, asks me a few questions and we do the x rays, nothing broken, pan seems chirpy, he's pacing around, sniffing the room, and the damaged leg seems to be taking his weight and holding up just fine. 
the vet shoots him up with painkillers and tells me to return in a week, he's prescribed a series of antibiotics and says pan is remarkable for his age which in human years is about somewhere in the early 80's.
i return home noticing a chip and crack in my windscreen as i'm driving. the cost of the day sky rocketing through the cieling. i stop at the shop and buy a six pack of beer for my neighbour and a box of chocolates for the lady who run pan over. i drop them off, grind up pans pill and feed him. i fall asleep on my sofa, the day marches onwards without me, thank god.

Friday, October 23, 2015

we travel, sometimes i just stay still and things travel around me. everything is doing something today, i'm still. my brother arrives in sydney for three weeks work, it's good to hear him and i hope we can spend some time talking but he is a busy body, and he has loads of demands on his time. i'm really hoping we can synch our time. it's tricky as my hours are weird, anti social and vastly difficult for people close to me to work around. 
i may take a sick day here or there. i feel sick of work anyway, i hate the dept and all the fools in it, the managers and their complete lack of management skills and ability to be constructive. i really want to break away and do something different.
what though?

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

awaken to the sound of some sort of power tool crashing it's way into my dreams, the pounding throb of mental torment as my private realms are shattered and my new neighbours invade by stealth. it's not like i'm north korea, the noise is unbearable. 
a plumber turns up to fix the toilet leak, he's there 10 mins and charges me $200, it's early morning robbery, not even daylight, i haven't even had a coffee yet.
i organise the morning, sort through the day. i need to find a justice of the peace and fill out some statutory declarations. this type of stuff is tricky for me, i hate forms, paperwork, and running around jumping through hoops. i hate having to confirm my identity, to justify my existence and good intent, as if a jp's signature really means anything.
i miss out on a surf this morning, it makes me feel very sad. 

Monday, October 19, 2015

my body emits a strong odour these days, some sort of pheromone released with spring, it permutes everything. i notice it influencing the universe as animal attraction. it's not pleasant or sweet like a perfume, it's more narcotic, repulsive to some, yet alluring to others. i do my best to avoid to much attention, i keep everything under my hat. i swim with the fishes, i soar with the birds, i buzz with the bees and sleep with the dogs, i purr like a cat, i pace like a tiger, i flow like the rivers, rise and fall with the tides, i glide through air and either like a multi dimensional dragon, i burn like flame and i disintegrate into dust only to be reborn in someones eyes.

it was a peek, a time glimpse into the un-forbidden zone. i couldn't help but follow my curious nature, i couldn't help but look. call it weakness if you may, it's to late to matter, i looked, it's to late. the images and words are in my neural networks, i distorted them obviously because i have an artistic romantic vision, so they are mine now, a vision builds of red aura angels demoness, terrible beauty and beautifully terrible, the vortex of a man's destruction and salvation, passion that burns furnace like, mind sharper than razor blades, true scientific enquiry always leads to the occult world. true occult enquiry always leads to science. the two are strands entwined. they only work together, like a key in its lock, the doors of perception are open.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

blazing sunrise, dawn destroyed by sharp light in the shape of blades, slicing through sky. penetration, iggy sings like a sexy cat blasting through my speakers as i drive into the brightest part of the sky. terrible beach has perfect surf this morning, no one about save for the other dawn travellers. 
iggy yelps and makes animal sounds, a guitar screeches like a sexed up panther and the backing vocals go all tribal.
i'm running down pristine sand, into pristine surf, white wash laps at my feet as i acknowledge the guardians of my element.
breath in breath out, heart beat like a big old drum, i'm alive iggy echoes, and i'm diving in, hand fin strapped to my wrist.
the waves propel me, lift and twirl me like an atom in a spin dryer, particle accelerating my way through the void, fuck you world, fuck isis, fuck politics, fuck the sport bastards, fuck the banks, fuck the religious nutters, fuck the politics, fuck the whole damn lot of it, i'm almost free, i'm a wild animal, a fucking, eating, loving, beast running on instinct and intuition, i'm a man like iggy pop penetrating, penetration, i come alive!

Sunday, October 04, 2015

the surf down at terrible beach, it's flat as pancakes but i splash around at the crack of dawn. water bracing, yet after a few seconds it becomes real soothing and easy on my soul, neptune's embrace, feel those vibes. 
down in the town of terrible, the streets start filling up, early morning, bright and beautiful. the caffeine addicted, the power walkers, the bold and beautiful all swarming behaviour becomes predictable if you follow the patterns. i get my coffee, read the  papers, the australian is my paper of choice and in the last few months it has taken a turn for the worse, it's editorials are shifting, although the letters are still excellent. the media is conglomerating, soon it will become a high pitched squeal. i wander home for chores. pan lays in the sun, head rises up for acknowledgement. man and his dog sit down, i break open a packet of dog biscuits and we discuss a plan of action chewing on some horrid meaty bite. pan wants to laze around but i have responsibilities. mission control needs a clean up, laundry needs laundering and i throw myself into these mundane tasks before procrastination kicks in. 

Saturday, October 03, 2015

the new world religion seems to be science, this has been going on since the club of rome days where rocking fellows and his pals decided to begin their plans for global government and the rise of technocracy was born. its a fucking clever idea, i take my hats of to the inventors as much as i oppose them. almost seventy years later, manifestations shift and change, social conditioning subtle brainwashing and clever linguistics convince a global population to embrace it. of course it's not called technocracy anymore, it has some warm fuzzy name and those that oppose it are burnt at the stake. prime ministers are removed if they do not tow the line, replaced by technocrats dressed up as excellent orators, pawns of the banks and power brokers to the elite. it dosn't matter how you approach it, from the left, the right, the perceptions are warped through lies and misinformation, up becomes down, left becomes right, in becomes out and only the brainwashed dealers push their product with out debate upon the rest of us. behold the energy grid is coming, behold the agenda 21 becomes 31. behold the rise of the technocrats and their power play and lament the end of individuality. 
for those that follow science, global warming and all the facts, remember, it's all a theory, fudged numbers (climate gate) crunched into a computer, even the australian weather bureau was under investigation until the change in leadership. these numbers are put into computer models and predictions are made based on them, yet the numbers are incorrect the information sexed up and the scientists who speak out are burnt at the stake, david bellamy, ian plimer burnt out by the group thinking robots or the apocalypse.
the middle classes high on hockey stick economics and al gores business mesmerism advocate the use of wind farms unaware who profits from wind farms, a ridiculous way to create energy and far from green.
of course no one wants to argue the environment, it's uncool and everyone wants a healthy eco system, but it's not about eco systems, it's about power. power that we have given to unelected bureaucrats who are milking us dry, taxing us, controlling us and implementing the biggest conspiracy ever through science and we are bending over unquestionably because we all all dumb sheep.
if this is the road we have to travel i rather people be upfront about it and know exactly what they are advocating, rather than people who take that moral high ground. the moral high ground is lost because there was never room to discuss it. technocracy has arrived, it's coming for you, it's going to ram itself into your face and make you swallow while you pay for the privilege and don't say i didn't warn ya. the smoke and mirrors keep your eye far away from what's really going down. the club of rome must be laughing all the way to the bank.

Thursday, October 01, 2015

tearing up scraps of paper, it looked pointless and wasteful from where i watched. sven was showing me how tiny he could get each piece, as he reduced them down to tiny scraps, almost like confetti. 
'yeah okay, i get it sven, i don't see the point in making a mess.'
'it's part of my performance, just watch.'
every piece was placed into a top hat which stood upside down upon his work bench, sven dressed in a black tuxedo and white shirt looked the perfect part, despicably cool, every gesture he made exaggerated for performance.
the room was an empty school hall where rows of chairs stood vacant except for one at the front, mine. a single spot light illuminated the area sven worked and in it's small circumference sven tore up my list of words.
'now, i know it's tedious but i need you to watch and be certain i am authentic in my actions, that this list is being torn up into tiny bits and placed into my hat. you need to verify this mission.'
'yeah i verified it okay, it's the real deal, sven can tear up a list of words.'
'not just tear but randomly place the pieces into a hat.'
'yes, random, right.'
i sat back yawning continuing being the lonely observer in the auditorium for another thirty minuets until sven finally finished and dropped the last piece into the hat. he put his wand upon the brim and began chanting. i perked up, it sounded russian or something eastern. he tapped the brim of the hat three times and then dramatically rolled up his sleeve making a show of it for my benefit. with one arm exposed he reached into the hat.
he reached further until his whole arm was swallowed by the hat.
'you must have a hole in your hat sven,' i shouted out. 
'there is no hole, come have a look,' he said as he took his hand out slowly.
from the stage i looked out into the void, just a room of darkness and a handful of chairs lit in penumbra. 
we were two lonely figures on a stage. 
i suddenly felt very pathetic, it was not as though i had places to be and other people to meet.
'what is this shit sven?'
'it's a trick i've been working on,' he took a step back and gestured to me, 'stick your hand inside and pull out one single piece of paper.'
i moved towards the hat and reached in, my fingers felt the confetti and wiggled around.
'come on, we don't have all night, pull it out and hand it to me.'
my fingers found a scrap and i placed it upon svens gloved hand. 
'what does it say?'
'it says, 'tearing'.'
'okay another piece.'
i pull out another and it's 'up.'
a smile crosses svens face like a trump card and i resign myself to the impossible.
'wanna continue?'
'i get it sven. amazing.'
'the amazing sven.'
the light goes out and all is dark.

Friday, September 25, 2015

i just finished alister reynolds new novella slow bullets, it's a great read, as all his books are. anyway i liked the term 'slow bullets' and i guess it got me thinking... and i wrote this in a kind of tribute to him.... 

the first thing you notice about a slow bullet is you don't notice it until the second thing. the strange way vision impairs, things begin to fall out of shape, contents leave their boundaries, time folds in on itself so what was behind you is now in front and what was yet to happen happened. it's an effective weapon which is why both sides use it.
eventually some sort of mental overwhelming occurs where the personality itself disengages and falls apart, assembling in a reformatted equivalent. 
the quanta force militia were on my heels, i was leading them towards my own unit but my satellite nav com system must have taken a hit as i slipped off line and found myself in the dark. the territory was vastly alien, we were shooting it out on some hostile world. a neutral planet with low gravity and two suns. the militia had been chasing us for several years now we had even   skipped through the wormhole technologies several times but they were like glue on our backs, relentlessly pursuing their targets.
the commander had signalled the base station for back up but that was several years ago, and we were still waiting a response. 
i took in the darkness momentarily, the night vision was erratic and my helmet had taken a battering but it worked well enough to guide me into the maze of rubble ahead. chances are they would find me, i was outnumbered and outgunned, my technology was failing fast. i had to work out a way to slow them down, get my system back online at least. 
an explosion to my left send me reeling down a natural bunker, out of sight.  rained down upon me. these guys were not messing around.
i checked over my suit, i had a few smart bombs left, my zap gun was almost deplenished. i estimated i had a few charges left. i took out the slow bullet and held it in my hand, it would have to be this, one shot at their chief would at least confuse them. i placed the silicone unit in the plasma weapon. my hand was shaking.
okay. i clambered out of the bunker and made my way along the maze like a rat, vision began to go on the fritz but it was good enough for me to sight a position up high where i could launch my defence. 
i clambered up and laid out my tools, this would be it.
keeping down i could hear sounds of the approaching enemy, there were three of them. it didn't take me long to work out who the leader was. i could zap the other two and then i'd be in a dog fight to the end. soon they would be in range. 
jessica was running towards me, what was she doing here. she had long dark hair and wore a simple dress, her face all radiant in the sunlight. 
'jess, jess, over here,' i called.
she waved and wandered over. 
'get up soldier'
what happened to her voice, i must have looked confused, as she grabbed me forcefully and brought my face to hers. the stench from her mouth was terrible, her nostrils seemed to grow larger than possible and her voice began to get much deeper and masculine.
'you've been hit solider, a slow bullet is inside you. we won. you're a dead man walking.'
'jess, what's happened, a slow bullet inside me, jess, is that you jess, i miss you so much jess, i really miss you. all i want is to feel you in my arms again.'
they could have left me there, they could have abandoned me to the delusion but for some reason they must have pitied me. maybe i just reminded them that they had wives back home, maybe they were lonely and frightened and they had endured enough of war, pointless war, maybe they just were human after all.
they took me back and took the slow bullet out with their technology and machines, they put me on a blimp ship and sent me back to my people, and as i float through space in my suspension pod my dreams are of jess, and home and holding her in my arms.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Leonard Cohen - nevermind

not sure what that guy on the train was babbling on about, it was a dead language he uttered, words dribbling out that had no place in time. he shuffled out the train along with the rest of the people, leaving me in contemporary peace. i closed my eyes and hoped to be home soon, before night came at least, mission control offered some familiarity. i liked being at home these days, i was going through my baking bread phase in life, only i was baking cakes and muffins, lonely years i guess, even my dog was never home to greet me, often exploring the wilderness or sleeping next door in the comfort of a proper family. i didn't have all those trimmings anymore, just lean living. i'd made friends with the ravens, crows and rooks. they often flew down as soon as i made an appearance. sometimes i'd offer a bit of cheese  to them but mostly they just liked to make their presence known. we were on good terms. 
the ravens and the crows were different to tell apart at first but i became familiar with their subtle idiosyncrasies and behaviours but also their calls, the crow being more of a single loud'caw' followed by a series of shorter ones. 
the ravens call was much deeper less sharp and more croaky. the most obvious difference was the fact ravens are bigger, some the size of chickens. the raven when it's wings are spread open are huge, much bigger than a crow. 
i also noticed that ravens are more confident, maybe this is in relation to size but they seem much more assertive. the beaks of the crow are sharper and shorter than a ravens whose beak is almost hooked. one last difference is the crow makes a racket when it flies whereas the raven is silent. 
sometimes i get home and there's a row of the beasts on my balcony, they sit there in silence, all looking into mission control. it's most peculiar but i figure they are just hanging around for food. 
i try to be pretty unpredictable about feeding these beasties as they often end up training people, at least this way they know we have an equal footing in the friendship, they make no demands and accept my offerings in the most unconditional of ways. 

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

drifting day to night, night to day, it's the endless drive of times arrow, going the wrong way, towards decay. 
we are all on this train and there is no way out, only those occasional stations we pass through until the end of the line.
i gaze out the window, the views not bad, it's relaxing and distracting, my mind slows down and slides out of destination anxiety into observer. 
the observer knows it can never really just observe.
the observer knows it cast influence upon its observations.
therefore the observer cannot observe objectively, the objective universe is unknown to us, beyond our minds comprehension other than a concept. i think that is the point of hp lovecraft's work, to offer a map of the universe and a infinitesimal point where man faces the unknowable strangeness and overwhelming unknowableness. he uses monsters and alien ancient gods from which man has no escape or ability to fight. 
he is absorbed into the alien and discarded as nothing significant, as a flea may be to humanity. 
that's the universe of hpl.
the train speeds up as we get closer to our destination, or it feels that way. in fact it's consciousness that increases, our awareness of time and the limits it places upon us. 
then along comes a cultural perspective of time that challenges us all. 
tribes have no tomorrow, native american indians did not make appointments based upon divisions in time, theirs was a natural harmonious understanding, sunrise, sunset, big boulder shadow passing over the tree time. no great meditation upon time because it was never trapping their culture until european man came and they knew... the end was near. 
in south america the same applies, indigenous cultures embrace a shamanistic knowledge of time, it's malleable and can be manipulated, one can access it for information, travel to past lives, future points. they brain hack time with dmt and enter plant consciousness. plants are active beings, they move at a different speed but if you speed up a plants movement over a few seconds, say the camera films for two three years non stop, the observer would see the plant in an energetic dance of movement. 
yet the plant in our time is slow.
there are many different types of time, the mayans understood this, building an 8 division calendar that has practical applications for every individual.
thus hpl stops short in his view of the universe, for individuals and humanity in general can alter the universe and interact with it in a meaningful way, the weirdness and fear is really beauty and trust. the monsters are just energies we are unable to perceive due to our brains limitations, but what we can control is our response to them. fear attracts fear, hpl lived in fear his whole life. he wrote about it beautifully, and that is why he is considered the greatest horror writer. 
his amazing contemporary thomas liggotti also writes about this nihilistic approach to the universe in a slightly more twisted way but his protagonists are just as defeated by the universe as hpl's.
non locality has meant that entanglement happens, distant particles can be influenced by manipulation of the other. this can be applied to the mind, thoughts influence as do words, and there's a realm of writing whereby the writer reaches a stage whereby meta programs operate through the words. william burroughs did this, a lot of songwriters, prophetic science fiction writers and a small strain of magickians who are meta programming through narrative where by the unconscious writes using symbolic representations and the writer casts out his work whereby sympathetic elements recreate the future for the author. the new age stuff is all based around this but generally misses the point, in fact misses the point! 
anyway it seems to me that the nihilistic approach only gets you so far. the fatalistic approach is something different. it implies that the future is written and inescapable. fatalists accept defeat as part of winning, not quite beating the universe but breaking even with it. there's a poetic beauty in fatalism, it's not fear based but acceptance based. 
personally i don't believe in either as a philosophical condition under which i live, although i have moments of both. the great engine that drives my imagination is based upon the idea that humans have one quality that cannot be destroyed despite the brilliant 1984's heart breaking conclusion. 
i know that unconditional love, forgiveness and grace cannot be destroyed by the terror of the known or the unknown, even the betrayed can forgive the betrayer. it's tricky and emotionally difficult but it is indeed what humanity is capable of. 
jesus the jewish rebel said, 'forgive them, they know not what they do'  and he bestowed a quality of love never witnessed before, mercy, thus escaping that last stop on his mythic train ride. there's grace and beauty in what we leave behind, the trail of our actions and interactions. mine falter on being honourable, no matter how hard i aspire, i fail over and over when the conditions overwhelm me, but i guess what don't kill you makes you stronger, and the fact is i'm stronger. 
humanity is self destructive as a species, trapped in a hateful cycle of stupidity that no politics can redeem us from. religious institutions are political now, even atheists have their own militant agendas. all these things formulate the idea that i am a libertarian at heart, i don't believe in institutions telling me how to think or live, i want the freedom to find my own way and be responsible for it. this is liberalism.   

Friday, September 18, 2015

strange weather has arrived, the sun is blotted out by dark clouds and the heat is sucked out of my bones. i have a day off, i have nothing to do, no where to go, i've been talking to myself for hours, pacing up and down the library and opening and closing the fridge, symptoms of a hp lovecraft disposition. what slithering nefarious horror awaits outside my door, some abomination from the stygian underworld. oh no, it's just the postman delivering a parcel of amazonian books. 
i place the package down upon my table and collect the scissors from the kitchen, the package is proving difficult. even with scissors. 
inverse echo's of john cale opening his gift as i slow down and remind myself to take care and be patient. ah yes, i find a seam and draw the sharp blade along it, revealing a pile of books i must have ordered a while back. (i often order books and forget i ordered them which makes their arrival a pleasant surprise) 
i pull them out one by one.
norman mailer's 'castle in the forest'
kornher- stace nicole's  'archivist wasp'
kevin kelly's 'what technology wants.'
so much reading to do as the pile of unread books grows and grows. i need to hire a librarian who can catalogue and arrange the system, mission control is pushing it's tardis like qualities to the limits, books are bulging out everywhere, spilling out from under the floorboards, cupboards and draws, the walls are fully lined and under the rugs lay volumes of ancient science fiction from the golden age. i walk upon robert hienlen, asimov and step over ee doc smith. when i brush my teeth i stand upon micheal moorcock, edmund cooper and john brunner's 'stand on zanzibar' ironically.
i need sympathetic assistance asap. 
maybe i'll build myself a very long book case today.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

i get the car fixed, it drives good although the interior requires a decent clean. papers, cds, receipts, feathers, crystals, stones, blankets and books strewn around everywhere. i gather up all my loose crystals and stick them away in the glove box. these stones have all been given to me over many years, i'm not sure why i keep them in my car of all places but i figure it's as good a place as any.
the weather is changing, big black cloud wipes out the whole sky, i tune in to the radio and hear that a mile up the road it's snowing or some kind of freak hailstorm. i drive into the black cloud but turn away at the first roundabout, i hate rain. i get home, get stuck into my new etgar keret book, seven good years, it's already brilliant. 
i wanna smoke a joint but i figure i'll try to detox instead so i make some flaxseed, polenta muffins, throw in some hemp seeds and nigella seeds, some organic honey and whatever else i can find. twenty minites later, yummy.

my return to the water is pure and blissful, like the global womb  i am embraced and nurtured. every cell and atom in my body knows itself in the ocean, the waves are gentle and inviting and carry me a few meters in a slow acclimatising velocity. i float around, get under, follow the currents, feel their temperature, embrace it's latent energy, let it enter my body, let it fill my thumping wild heart. clearing damage, healing some residue, fixing up my shit.
i can't explain this sensation, my relationship with the sea is powerful and necessary for survival on the land, i don't think about it to much, just let my process happen. 
later i travel to a small town, it's  strange place where an ice epidemic is apparently ravaging through, fifty percent of the population are the walking dead, my god their eyes are deranged, faces haunted by some chemical weirdness. the other half of the town is brilliantly alive and breaking through, and i'm pulled into one specific place, the apocrathy. the woman inside is quite beautiful, she wants to look into my eyes but i'm very self conscious, i've been awake all night, looking haggard and crazed, like a fugative, 'have you any acacia tea?' i suggest hoping my english accent will disarm her, looking at the rows of herbals and desperately avoiding eye contact should she notice my anomalies.
trying to be normal and cool i blow it by asking her, 'are you a witch?'
for a moment she will not answer but then says, 'yes, but i'm a good one, not a black one. i'm a green witch.'
'oh i'm fine about all witches, i love them all, black blue, purple, pink, green, i'm very witch friendly.'
she smiles.
i smile.
we laugh. 
'i think i'm going to have to return.'
'you need to give me the latin name of the acacia you want, there are so many thousands of variations.'
'okay thank you, i will find out.' 
she steps out from behind the counter and my perception kicks in, very attractive, vital intelligent energy within her eyes, hair picking up all sorts of transmissions and her voice is a labyrinth of wisdom. 
suddenly i don't want to leave that apocrathy but circumstance is closing in, outside a friend waits in his van. what can i do but leave. but before i do we both laugh at the way there's all this unsaid energy between us that we ride nowhere. i know she felt it. i have to let it go, chances are she's married or engaged with some athletic heroic type, me, i'm just a quiet bookworm who dislikes crowds and society. 
on the drive home i ponder the green witch and wonder if i will ever see her again. i wonder if she has already cast her spell upon me or is that my own flight of fancy. i look out at the car dealers and big chemist shop, i look across at the commerce and industry, i close my heavy eyelids and sink back into my chair. 
one day that witch is going to look into my eyes and i will be seeing her.



Tuesday, September 15, 2015

this is an important interview and well worth listening to.
i must agree with graham's view on everything he mentions here, 

i'm looking forwards to reading his new book, magicians of the gods, a sequel to, fingerprints of the gods.
another elected govt. revolts against the people. a pm no one voted for vs a pm half the population hate. very strange and dangerous position especially after the last 6 years of labour green govt where we had rudd, gillard, rudd. where does democracy start when the people are forced to vote, yet the person they vote for can be removed and replaced by someone who undermines sabotages and white ants their leader. politics is a game of thrones, it's no place for any one with integrity irrespective of party. these people vote for themselves, they should be dragged out into the guillotine courtyard. 

super position, supposition, imperfect perfection of perfect imperfection, the cause is a glitch in my random generator, maybe a blown gasket or some kind of fuse. being incapable of engineering and mechanical thought i have to rely on the kindness of arcane gods, delve into the mythos where some have incredible industrial power, those bloody hellish worms burrowing underfoot dig tunnels the way we would chew through breakfast, perfect symmetry, all directions, an underground labyrinth akin to the tube system but on a global scale, shoggoth things, the old ones know far more than we can fathom. 
stranded at the side of the road i pull out all stops. passing trucks rattle by, a few drivers gaze my way but can't afford to stop. deadlines i guess. 
above me the stars, and as i lay upon my machine i look at them, strands of whispy things overhead, cosmic and precariously blessing us or cursing us with perspectives. 
later i figure i will have to act, sometimes action is better than inaction and i'm gifted with the knowledge of knowing the difference thanks to my studious involvement with the book of changes. 
i cast some hieroglyphic invocations and focus my attention upon the beast. failing this i kick the tyre, hurting my foot in process. my screams are unfettered by social conditions, it fucking hurt and everyone will know about it but there is no one to hear my scream, not a soul. 
i'm stuck in the purple night, highway to nowhere. maybe i should ride the giant worm, just like paul in dune. in some psychotic impulse i check the colour of my eyes, still abyssinian brown. damn, i have an impulsion to clean my teeth. as i get older these strange impulses become more demanding. i hunt around the interior, finding a vast range of useless items, papers, toys and crystals. i forage around the crystals and find the rudrakasia seeds. i hold them in my palm. 
outside i can feel the colder temperature creeping as midnight approaches, i place the strange orbs in a circle and focus my thoughts. i keep them in formation as i turn the key in the ignition. starts first time. leaving the engine on i collect the seeds and place them in the glove box. 
i drive back to mission control, crystal powered, just like star trek. 

Monday, September 14, 2015

'how many freckles are on my face?'

'why your face is like the stars. infinite. easy to be lost in, yet i feel...found.'

Thursday, September 10, 2015

captain mission's guide for the perplexed. 
1. Ground your attention on yourself. Be conscious at every moment of what you are thinking, sensing, feeling, desiring, and doing. 
2. Always finish what you have begun.
3. Whatever you are doing, do it as well as possible.
4. Do not become attached to anything that can destroy you in the course of time.
5. Develop your generosity ‒ but secretly.
6. Treat everyone as if he or she was a close relative.
7. Organize what you have disorganized.
8. Learn to receive and give thanks for every gift.
9. Stop defining yourself.
10. Do not lie or steal, for you lie to yourself and steal from yourself.
11. Help your neighbor, but do not make him dependent.
12. Do not encourage others to imitate you.
13. Make work plans and accomplish them.
14. Do not take up too much space.
15. Make no useless movements or sounds.
16. If you lack faith, pretend to have it.
17. Do not allow yourself to be impressed by strong personalities.
18. Do not regard anyone or anything as your possession.
19. Share fairly.
20. Do not seduce.
21. Sleep and eat only as much as necessary.
22. Do not speak of your personal problems.
23. Do not express judgment or criticism when you are ignorant of most of the factors involved.
24. Do not establish useless friendships.
25. Do not follow fashions.
26. Do not sell yourself.
27. Respect contracts you have signed.
28. Be on time.
29. Never envy the luck or success of anyone.
30. Say no more than necessary.
31. Do not think of the profits your work will engender.
32. Never threaten anyone.
33. Keep your promises.
34. In any discussion, put yourself in the other person’s place.
35. Admit that someone else may be superior to you.
36. Do not eliminate, but transmute.
37. Conquer your fears, for each of them represents a camouflaged desire.
38. Help others to help themselves.
39. Conquer your aversions and come closer to those who inspire rejection in you.
40. Do not react to what others say about you, whether praise or blame.
41. Transform your pride into dignity.
42. Transform your anger into creativity.
43. Transform your greed into respect for beauty.
44. Transform your envy into admiration for the values of the other.
45. Transform your hate into charity.
46. Neither praise nor insult yourself.
47. Regard what does not belong to you as if it did belong to you.
48. Do not complain.
49. Develop your imagination.
50. Never give orders to gain the satisfaction of being obeyed.
51. Pay for services performed for you.
52. Do not proselytize your work or ideas.
53. Do not try to make others feel for you emotions such as pity, admiration, sympathy, or complicity.
54. Do not try to distinguish yourself by your appearance.
55. Never contradict; instead, be silent.
56. Do not contract debts; acquire and pay immediately.
57. If you offend someone, ask his or her pardon; if you have offended a person publicly, apologize publicly.
58. When you realize you have said something that is mistaken, do not persist in error through pride; instead, immediately retract it.
59. Never defend your old ideas simply because you are the one who expressed them.
60. Do not keep useless objects.
61. Do not adorn yourself with exotic ideas.
62. Do not have your photograph taken with famous people.
63. Justify yourself to no one, and keep your own counsel.
64. Never define yourself by what you possess.
65. Never speak of yourself without considering that you might change.
66. Accept that nothing belongs to you.
67. When someone asks your opinion about something or someone, speak only of his or her qualities.
68. When you become ill, regard your illness as your teacher, not as something to be hated.
69. Look directly, and do not hide yourself.
70. Do not forget your dead, but accord them a limited place and do not allow them to invade your life.
71. Wherever you live, always find a space that you devote to the sacred.
72. When you perform a service, make your effort inconspicuous.
73. If you decide to work to help others, do it with pleasure.
74. If you are hesitating between doing and not doing, take the risk of doing.
75. Do not try to be everything to your spouse; accept that there are things that you cannot give him or her but which others can.
76. When someone is speaking to an interested audience, do not contradict that person and steal his or her audience.
77. Live on money you have earned.
78. Never brag about amorous adventures.
79. Never glorify your weaknesses.
80. Never visit someone only to pass the time.
81. Obtain things in order to share them.
82. If you are meditating and a devil appears, make the devil meditate too.

Wednesday, September 09, 2015

working in garden, digging up earth, planting some seeds. it's all pretty as the heavy lifting takes shape, you gotta sometimes seize the moment as behind my house a digger has dug up some deep fertile soil i intend to use in my own garden. it's strenuous as i do not have a wheel barrow therefore carry each shovelful by hand but it's none the less a worthwhile project. the garden appreciates it, the bamboo and tiger grass are happy, the ferns seem content and the rubber plant is undergoing a growth spurt. but the palms are powering through their youth, soon will be heavy with bananas. it's getting tropical, suns out cloud free, fish are jumping and i'm high. hash cookies. 
speaking of which i enjoyed a day visiting my friends val and olga, laughing and generally chatting away at our own ridiculousness. 

Thursday, August 27, 2015

in the realm of metenoia where everything is beyond intelligencia, the principality of singularity, bone and blood, mind magicks and psychological anarchy unbound. shadow warrior. plato cave, full moon rave, beach tranquility and the mind control of neuroplasticity. keep the eye in the sky, keep the eye on the mind, keep the eye in the try angle, of the angel.
saturation polotik black man smoking big spliff, in a bar 
downtown, words like syrup, falling from fat lips.

'these days it's all secrecy and no privacy, shoot first!'

there were days in old avalon town where i used to go out buy some milk for the family and come home three days later, that's how the life was in them olden days of tangents and tributaries. no one minded as the whole place functioned like that, heading into the village i'd meet keef who would want to talk about something, we would pick up erika and end up smoking a spliff on his boat down at pittwater. erika would get all enthused and wanna go sailing down akuna bay so we would motor off. down akuna we would meet chris and tim on their big yacht, go for a sail out past the island, smoke more weed, watch the sun go down as we moored on some obscure prehistoric secret spot listening to the stones 'black and blue' hanging over the atmosphere like a time travel bubble of a favourite party. in the early morn i'd watch the sun rise and have a swim, maybe read a little. chris would organise some food, and we would feast upon some incredible meal he would rustle up from a few eggs and bread. the sun would sparkle above and we would languid away the timeless space between the ocean and the skies, smoke more weed and someone would invite some girls from a house boat over, the day just melted away. 
on return i'd hop into the supermarket and return to the family, who had also had their own adventure. that was the way it was, no one got uptight with explanations and bullshit, we just had that trust and understanding, avalon man. that's all it was, the nature of the place. 
i liked those years, loved them. but you can't live like that forever and i needed discipline more than anything and when it all came down, everything changed anyway and i moved away. 
there's something about being free, it's an impossible thing to sustain but the secret is knowing when you are not free, because from that point you are halfway there. acknowledgment these days is deceptive, maybe it's getting older or more weary, maybe memory ain't so accurate, maybe i did get in strife for forgetting the milk but for a while there was some kinda magick in the place, it took me places, non rational, non logical, non linear, it all made perfect sense.   

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

the olive branch wilts, the peacekeepers tilt, towards the single point we are all focused upon, a shimmering illusion of rorschach patterns, chaos matrix fundamentals. neurone processors, electrical, chemical, psychological networks infiltrated by chance. the random disorder is just lost information. 
times arrow aims for entropy, our own runs opposite, assembling patterns, looking for clues. the true detective has to throw chance into the mix, i ching is not just divinatory, an engine throbs in the heart of every sky star, a crystal structure in the atom, the jewel is also truth.

Friday, August 21, 2015

new day, feeling to good to be true, yeah i pull apart the kitchen cupboards, finding all the ingredients for my favourite cake, and begin to bake in my frenzy of james brown like kitchen madness. this don't happen often so when it does i shift into fifth and put my foot all the way to the metal, blasting simple minds 'big music' doing some majestic kitchen wizardry. it's over real fast as i clean up after myself, cake on the rise i take a break and have a smoke at the spots. then i notice the ceramic stove top is on burning away a small spillage of coconut, date and apple paste. i give it a wipe accidentally smearing it across the surface so out comes my handy spray and wipe, and i blast the area only to be emerged in a cloud of chemicals burning in a foggy haze that i inhale and poison my beautiful clean lungs, heart and blood with. i choke up, gagging and spluttering confusion at my own stupidity. what idiocy, i spend my whole life keeping my body chemical free and in one act of stupidity blow the deal. my final thought before i pass out coughing and choking on poison fumes is what a beautiful cake and i think it's probably the best one i have ever made. 
i gulp down a litre of water, flush my body, clean my teeth but my tongue has swollen up and my mouth is numb, i can't taste anything but some kind of ammonia, it's awful. can't even eat the bloody cake. what a fucking cruel act. that lumberjack cake looks perfect.
struck down by the gut wrenching plague i made my way down to hospital 7 where the local authority were providing vaccinations and antidotes. apparently warnings were everywhere but i don't watch tv and hardly venture out into the city. the government announcements declared not to panic, that it was a curable illness and the health authority would now have the powers of state, and by the way they also were heavily armed.
as i walked through the town i saw the bodies being carted away, hundreds of them and my suspicions kicked in. 
an official in clinical white spacesuit type clothing confided in me the whole thing was sponsored by the united nations under the population control programs. they were tired of subtle attempts and were now just using chemical warfare through various chemtrails, i asked him about the antidote and he just shook his head sadly.
outside the hospital armed guards stood and from a distance i noticed hordes of people queuing up to enter but none exiting. i felt a wave of nausea and smoked a quick joint. 
i wandered around the back of the hospital where the trucks all lined up, large military black trucks shunting of corpses.
a doctor walked passed as i hid behind the wall, i followed him along an outdoor corridor that eventually led to a quadrangle of grass. he sat down on one of four benches and began to cry, sobbing into his white coat. 
as i approached he must have sensed me and turned around shielding his face.
'it's okay, i', not going to hurt you.'
'who are you?'
'i'm just a civilian, one of the people. doctor, what is going on?'
'it's population control, we have a quota. it's fucking impossibly large.'
'the un?'
'yeah, the un.'
'is there a cure for this?'
'cure! are you fucking mad?'
i looked at him, young man, probably in his mid thirties, he looked tired. defeated.
'yeah cure. for what i have, this gut bug thing.'
'there is no fucking cure, just like there is no virus. it's all mass hypnosis, chemtrails are not fucking real, don't you get it. you just believe it to be and your mind does the rest, it's all psychosomatic. we ran the campaign so successfully everyone made themselves sick. there is no virus so there's no cure. if you don't die from the believe you get to the hospital where we finish you off.'
'i saw the trucks.'
'that's nothing, it's going to take six months. a third of the population, that's global. we have only just started.'
i sat down with him, offered him a joint.
'what are you going to do?'
'i have to get back to the hospital, they will start asking questions otherwise. i have to go kill people. but if i were you, i'd get the hell away from here as possible.'
'i'll warn as many as possible.'
'they won't listen. the mind control program is to good. even you won't listen really, i'm wasting my time.'
he stood up and walked away with me shouting out, 'i hear you, i'm listening but it's difficult to believe such a thing is possible.'
i stood up and began to follow him but my guts ached and i felt my chest seize up with pain, air become restricted, lungs attempting to suck in some air. a warmth came over my whole body and i found myself quite unable to move. how had this negative placebo become so powerful. fear, i pondered, kept in fear, anxiety and a state of stress we believe anything from any authority, even if we know it kills us.
the world started to swirl around me, and i felt my eyes were about to burn, the wrenching plague was upon me. 

Monday, August 17, 2015

here i am at the golden dawn, substantiated in immaculate light, these moments only caught by the early birds of the town, fishermen, swimmers, dog walkers and joggers. we are blessed in light like this, filtering down through some miraculous engineering. how can people not believe in a creator of this, an invention of pure bliss, why does it appear beautiful and spiritual, fill the heart with something more than reality tv, why is it that the incredible perfection of the wave and shells have more meaning than going to the bank. why indeed?
because it's real.
and mornings, dusk and moments of peace are when the real shines through, fracturing the stupid mess of politics, religion and stupidity, presenting clarity like charity upon the unwashed dazed and confused.
there's an edge in the air, a fatal factor that forbids me to enter the water, it's a strange fear boundary i have always had, the cold, but it's almost time for it to change as spring turns.
i begin with a huge house clean, mopping, dusting, wiping and sorting. mission control is looking better but it sure could use a paint job. 

Thursday, August 13, 2015

my book's out now, you can order a hardcopy from amazon, it's packed with 50 stories all true. there's lots of fucking stuff in each story, spiritual truth and rambling narratives of space time and mind. if you like hunter s thompson, william burroughs, william gibson crossed with some classic pulp science fiction i'd invest in a copy now. or e mail me your details and i'll send you a copy with an inscription. they cost $20 and that includes postage or $15 plus postage from amazon.
i have to thank tanya for reading through the final edit, and none of this would be possible without tez and jean my friends from brighton who really put it all together.