Thursday, February 22, 2018

after all these years, i have ended up where i am meant to be, in a unit i love, run by a great manager, a woman i really respect and admire, she's amazing. the ironic thing is our service is changing in march, it's being taken over. we are doomed. it's our last days, our dying days. 
i can't quite work out if i am unlucky or lucky. i arrive here six months ago  against my will, find it a great workplace and now in a few weeks it will be taken away. i'm unlucky. right?
but then maybe i am lucky to have found that place, even for a brief time it was amazing. my manager is amazing, and the clients are great. 
anyway. thinking about this paradox has sent me quite mad, lost my mind, my concentration is fucked, i'm so overwhelmed with paperwork, with reports i am failing in the total process of 'paperwork,' it's far to much in quantity, far to repetitive, and far to absurd.
however this lack of focus has given me a chance to do something i love doing, connect with one client and change their life.
so i am working with a guy in a wheelchair, and at first he wouldn't let me near him but he's got to know me now, and now we are friends. now there's a story of us, now i make changes, taking him from his old workshop into a new one. replacing his coke with beer, taking him out into the community for new experiences and adventures, pubs, bands and restaurants, he's doing normal things, making choices and smiling. 
    

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

people are so desperate to believe in something they believe anything.
'i love you,' he whispers in her ear lobe over the cocktails she has bought. she's already lent him two grand, what's a few drinks. i love you, is what she wants to hear, so like a key unlocking a door the petals in her bitter heart unfold and a secret timeline is revealed. it's the one where he takes her and her child, commits to them exclusively and saves her from the sadness she feels. the sadness because she is not beautiful, nor smart, nor flush with cash, after all she has been struggling with social services for years, lives with her parents, but she wants his love so bad she has already given him everything she has, even her flesh on that first night they met.
when he will not return her calls she starts that inevitable slide, further self loathing, further hurt, further sadness. her father yells at her, 'how could you give your savings to a stranger?'
her daughter looks at her wondering why they are unable to afford the cinema.
'why,' she cries, 'why?'

when i see her she is hostile, angry at me, the innocent, projecting and acting like a child. i buy her coffee as her anger slips from her tongue, her face contorted and eyes seeping rage. it deflects from me, and i watch her back cloud swallow her up. 
'i'll see you tomorrow,' she says and then when tomorrow comes she has gone. 

why? the answer is so obvious. i see it, we see it. why can't she?


Sunday, February 11, 2018

HUANTED BY POE

one of my fave albums, from another life. enjoy.

i must stop announcing things in advance, it's like a curse. 
i've noticed this when i proclaim on here, i'm going to read certain books, something always stops me. take a few posts ago when i said i would be reading herbert shelby, that has not happened, although i did read one short story. then i began something else, so i have to finish that. 
however i know shelby will hold some effect upon me. 

so yesterday evening was so perfect i took myself outside and returned into the water after a long time. 
the effect was instant. 
it was glorious, however neptune is angry with me. yeah really, i know these things. he says i must be disciplined and give him a commitment before he gives me his daughters.  he says, i must surf when ever possible. i must re devote myself to his energy, he was really fucking angry with me and made it known when i shut my eyes  and spoke with him. i understand that stuff, he's right, i was wrong.   

Friday, February 09, 2018


i was watching a clip of steely dan playing to a tiny audience, answering questions and telling stories. i was cast back to a radio show on capital radio where a guy played rock songs late at night, and i first heard steely dan. the show was called 'your mother wouldn't like it.'
anyway it was not until i heard 'haitian divorce' that i really liked their vibe, only because lyrically they were good story tellers. 'kid charlemagne' was a good one to.
i never understood what the hell 'divorce' was all about, but it had a great feel, part science fiction, part william burroughs and part sub tropical lust story. 
there's that weird processed guitar, check the fade out, the reggae groove and donald fagans amazing voice. 
later i found out it was about a period in time americans would travel down to haiti to get a divorce and remarry their girlfriends all in a weekend. 
apparently the haiti govt. made a killing arranging these divorce tourists holidays and apparently only one person had to turn up. all perfectly legal. so he's telling a story about a woman (babs)who travels down to split from her old man 'clean willy', gets divorced, picks up a guy (some charlie)  in a bar, and on return to the usa finds she is pregnant and gives birth.
it's a weird song man, but it's great, it's great because the lyrics  match the music. that's what makes a song great for me. 


Thursday, February 08, 2018

strange days have found us indeed, as we move from station to station, doctor to doctor, it takes me a while to find the one i want, i never use them unless i need a sick certificate and that's very rare. 
but the last few months i have been plagued by ill health, and my main man in the erina medical centre is not doing it for me. he's not really in tune with me at all. in fact he's outta whack with me utterly and completely. i gave him a few years and then recently move to the guy i take my clients to see, there's two of them and they are both very good. they both laugh a lot and keep things humorous between us, i can talk to them about anything, art, travelling to weird places, books and my work, they get what i do but they are old school doctors and come at everything with humour. anyway they fix me up with some x rays and ultra scans eventually discovering i have two torn ligaments but they do not address an underlaying issue i have. intuition has told me there's something else wrong, it's deeper, at the veins. i'm committed to my doctors but i know they just are not understanding me. 
that same week i notice a strange brown blemish upon my arm. being bombarded by awful cancer advertisements i freak and go to the sun doctors where i meet a very nice fijian / indian man who takes a biopsy. we make small talk and then he asks me about my legs.
he inspects them and tells me immediately what's going on and the implications, suggests i get a second opinion. i ask him if he knows a good doctor. he suggests a guy.
i'm in the surgery  it's filled with ice addicts and some derelicts from the local area. ice is big here on the central coast, it's nasty and i generally avoid it and it's users but here in the waiting room it's pouring out onto the floor. that energy is just not cool despite it's name. 
i'm in there for a long time, waiting, waiting waiting. i go through and meet a nurse whom asks me some weird questions, she's really nice, talkative. she's the frontline, a cool easy way, bright and someone i respect immediately.
she sends me through to see the doctor who informs me there's a councillor upstairs, a social worker and some other practitioner whom i can't recall. 
i smile to myself for some reason.
then the dr listens to me, i am just relaying the information the sun doctor gave me about my veins, i don't know what it all means and the doctor immediately conducts his own inspection and within seconds is making these referrals for tests.
the very next day i'm getting jabbed for blood, x rays shot full off iodine and shot through the doughnut machine. 
breathe the nurses say, breathe out. i take it all seriously, i'm outta my depth, how did i get in a doughnut machine, again!
however i'm kinda liking the idea of laying down and having a snooze. 
my eyes close. my body relaxes momentarily  as the nurses race into the room, pull the needles out from me and unbind my toes. (put there to keep my feet together for the scan)
'it's broken, the machine just broke.'
i open my eyes thinking off homer simpson and dougnuts and see the two girls fussing around. they say they have to do the whole test again.
i'm kinda chilled out, even as they jab me again and fill my body with iodine. the scan operates successfully this time. 
later they say i was a really good patient and i surmise they must get a lot of people freaking out but to be perfectly honest i'm very comfortable with doughnut machine. every few years i go for a ride in one.
it was a strange day, almost like going to the circus, except the rides are all designed by aliens who are probing for something that makes us humans human, only with me the doughnut machine met another alien and froze.   




Monday, February 05, 2018

i remember many years ago when i was travelling in new york, not the new york you know, this one was pre rudy giuliani, a different scene, one with a sharper edge, a harder kick. i was in queens and tuned in to lou reed talking about his fave writer, i think he was taking to william burroughs. anyway's he said 'last exit brooklyn' which i sought out when i had money again. 
i read it and was stunned, not just by the sheer brutal realism of the novel but the writing was immaculate. herbert selby jr had it, that quality of being a great writer.

what are they? for me they are energy. the words, the story have to have an energy, i guess that means it's got to speak to you, engage in your synapsis, heart and sexual organs. it has to turn you on, even if it's brutal and ugly. somewhere it has to capture your attention in some part of your body, guts, brain, cock. very few books capture them all.
i think i can tell when a writer puts everything they have into their book, i can tell by the story, the way it's told and how it effects the reader. everyone has a different experience of a book. my time with henri charriere aka papillon would be vastly different than yours. so we have to have some personal connection with what we read.  

selby was poor and struggled most of his life, only in later life did a new generation tune in to his work, films were made and his writing hit the wave of the new underground culture, still imbued with fringe credibility, now it was obscure post punk bands, filmmakers other writers and lou reed who seemed to acknowledge his work as influential.
i read that book in a couple of days, mind you that's all i did. page after page, it held me captive.
those characters  that life. nihilistic, the annihilation of it's savage trajectories as characters train wreckage lives were further crushed by savage humanity. 
when many years later i saw 'requiem' while being involved with a girl who was a character from the book, but was edited out for being to ridiculous. 
it was strange seeing all that addiction, processing my situation and relationship.  
so i'm about to re read some herbert selby jr. 
obviously some of that energy will find it way in these pages, be warned.

Friday, February 02, 2018

this planet is beautifully elegant, it absorbs the dead and sustains life, that's pretty freaking cool in my book. some cool humans know this, they see themselves as cultivators of this in the most practical of ways they quietly go about their business, gardening, landscaping, celebrating and respecting the idea. it's a great idea, only just a small part of it. the greater idea is to take the cosmic view  earth is just one element of a vast network of elements, within something we could never hope to comprehend. the real religion and spirituality is in the imagination, this is why imagination is so powerful and why some dark force of humanity wants to 'suppress' it.
the dark force is ideological. it's both religion and politics, which is to say most people attached to those constructs cannot see an idea as pure. they deconstruct it and project upon it, their opinion, critique of judgement. (yes, i am aware of the irony) 
the idea is just sold as a bad idea, and we are so conditioned by education we can't tell the difference. 
peace and love are good ideas. relaxing is a good idea. smoking weed is an excellent idea and sex is up there to. 
bad ideas, ideological ones. 

anyway's more news from mission control. 

the weather is back, well it's nowhere near as hot and strange as the last month. 
my garden is happy, the birds are out and i, thankfully feel fine.
energy levels are back, brain functioning reasonably well for an old model robot. i'm very old now as i have jumped through some sort of time displacement vortex. i must have done it when i was not smoking weed, never again. 
yeah this thing has sent me into my future self, an different one. a new mission. 
sometimes that happens, they wrote a book that describes it well, the time travellers wife, which is much better than the film. 
anyways, it's similar to dr. who now. i think that's what happens when you slide into your future self, you are wiser and more experienced with the whole condition.
so here i am in future mission, where i am paid a lot of money to generate ideas. it's the life i always wanted. complete freedom. financial freedom. 
that's the future life i was aiming for. 
what would i do?
that's a great question although obvious.
i would travel through space, time and mind much like i do now.


  

Saturday, January 27, 2018

something has changed and i'm not certain if it's me or the environment  the last month has been unbearably hot, no usually i bear it well, but for some reason it's knocked me back this december/ january.
i usually embrace summer but for the first time ever i'm just feeling like a languid washed up poet in an opium den. energy is low, bursts of wild thoughts, very little movement as i mostly lay upon a futon under a fan. incense burns, my brand is 'black magic' which i really enjoy and resonate with. not because i'm a black magickian but because the scent it spreads around my home is perfrect and conducive to my thoughts. mostly erotic fantasies and travels through new dimensions. 
sensual warm ones, the real scent of women, musk, cinnamon, traces of cloves and nutmeg but something else, heavy and human, sweat and sex.
the days slide into nights without any worlds between them, time travels much slower here, as though the very space it moves through is molasses. breathing requires additional effort, everything is slow, sound slows down, words and movement. 
memories fall between the  forgotten and lost. there's no innocent in this realm, we are all guilty of something but can't recall what it is we seek escape from. only a certain applied application in focused precision thought reveals it's ourselves. only to have that fundamental key is to unlock the pleasure of our indulgences. 
if we are lucky, in the evenings a slight breeze through mission control, you can hear it in the trees from afar, getting louder as it draws nearer, a wonderful short lived moment of fresh light air.
but the arms of the women, the sensational realm of pleasure in in deep. it flows through our hedonistic bones and blood, it clouds everything with it's beautiful painkilling afflictions. it's where we can loose ourselves for as long as we need. it's our safe spot, sometimes.  

Thursday, January 25, 2018

wow, finally one day off to consolidate the things i need to do, where does time go? same place as space i guess. 
i'm actually exhausted, suffering from burn out, in need of a long break from the grind but these luxuries are unattainable at present and i don't wanna complain to much, after all i am lucky in many ways. 
so, i met with my web man this morning. i was late, fast asleep, snoozing in dreamland way back in west berlin when my phone woke me with it's strange new ringtone. i made the cafe in minites, and was having in depth discussion with my main man taruk about possible ideas. very satisfactory and i hope we can get cracking with this project. i have two years in which to get it running and lucrative so the sooner i start the better.
what else, can i say. rain and sun have burnt my beautiful garden, turning all the lush vegetation brown and uselessly dead. i have to regenerate everything, cut back and hack away the debris. it's a big job and requires a certain physicality which is missing at the moment. 
to be honest i need to have a few more hours sleep, a siesta maybe? 

went to see 'shape of water' 
how disappointing, like crimson peak in many ways, that guy just is stick in his fable and it's really not that good a story. it could have been so much better if he had been braver, darker and trusted his audience with some intelligence. i would have made a completely different story, much more subversive, taboo and provocative. i understand the experimental aspects he included but they lacked imagination and where utterly foolish in my opinion.

the other thing is, i have been unfortunately watching this show on tv each night. it coincides with my evenings at work where i have to chill out and wait for the next person, so i switch on the tv and see this idiot hosting his show. he's tom ballard and he has the worst tv show i have ever seen. it's apparently a news program yet it's dumbed down, predictable and utter garbage. how does he get this tv show on the national broadcaster? well he hates trump, anything conservative, liberal or libertarian. he's a propagandist more than a comedian. utterly disgraceful, in fact i loathe this guy so much if i saw him i would have to punch him on the nose. honestly, he needs it.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

i'm fucking nuts, breaking my back at work with my stupid work ethic while everyone else is leaving early, doing nothing or making me do their work. i work in a great place, with great clients but jesus, some of the staff are nuts. one is a solicitor, and he constantly argues with everyone, avoids doing anything productive and leaves his work for me to do.example. i had an appointment with a client and he asks me if i can take another clients paperwork in to my appointment as the dr. forgot to sign it when they were there last week. i say, no, make another appointment and i will gladly take it. 
he says, i am wrong and that it will take three seconds to sign the page completely misunderstanding my point. which is, people with disabilities should have some dignity, they should have the same assess to their doctors that we all have, and not share appointments. 
in the end after a massive argument i make an appointment for his client and annex it to mine, then my client does not get charged for  his clients paperwork. jesus, i end up having to do his work as he didn't do it correctly and is blaming the dr. for forgetting  i'm running around with a handful of files and a client in a wheelchair who has a seizure in the waiting room. it's nuts.
i gotta get back to being a writer. my story is sinking into the abyss, it needs attention and next week i have time that i will devote to it's new incarnation. 
i may start writing it up on here for people to read, it's going to be quite complex and long but i think you may enjoy parts of it. 

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

thunder gods arrive with fierce fanfare, the trumpet blows from a distance as the weather patterns shift and rain finally falls. i awake at 0500 dawn filters through mission control, it's darker than it should be, as black grey clouds block the sun. outside i see the tropical garden celebrate the rain, big palms leaves and fronds dancing in joy, the grass whispers, green shoots sprouting up from the earth. 
the thunder rumbles, it's long and wobbly like an upset stomach, thankfully no lightening yet. my flame red tree looks amazing in contrast to the shades of deep green that surround it.
in the distance i see the river run, mysterious and dark, like some fairy tale where the woods deepen. two huge gum trees pained upon the landscape.
i hear frogs, crickets and see the birds activity as they search for food. life returns from the scorched earth, life always finds a way. 
the temperature has dropped considerably, it's much more bearable. my bamboo is growing as i watch it.  

Sunday, January 07, 2018

John Cale - Full Performance (Live on KEXP)

sydney is basking in the hottest day ever, it's actually impossible to bask as it's so hot it just feels horrible, like everything is slowly melting. i was awake at 0600 and already the cicadas were making a cacophony outside. every minite the temperature just increased by a degree until it stuck at 48 degrees.
it was very unpleasant.
i drove into the city and most kitchens were shut, the streets where empty although there were lots of cars on the freeway, air conditioning is king. cinemas were packed, supermarkets and shopping malls spilling over with people just needed to keep it cool. 
it's now 2230 and it's still stinking hot.
i suck down ice cubes in my sarong, while i smoke a big spliff and contemplate sleeping in this sticky atmosphere. in the distance, thunder.

Thursday, January 04, 2018

reality, a field of probability waves superimposed, where cause and effect and time are not fixed. in subatomic realms one cannot measure the particle and measure the wave, one precludes knowledge of the other. in choosing to observe one the observer defines it, conciousness therefore plays a key role in observation. this is the collapse of wave probability function. what is the nature that links conciousness to quantum events?
the uncertainty principle implies an existence of a method to transfer information from the observers conciousness to the quantum realm.
the paradox of non locality (entanglement) implies two possibilities, one being photons can travel faster than light or they somehow remain connected as parts of an indivisible system. the first works well with relativity, the second suggests interconnectedness. thus information that causes change can be exchanged regardless of distance.
most physicists would say this cannot happen at macroscopic levels, yet magickians would say this occurs because off a side effect of our conciousness not inevitably an occult process, it can be hacked.
quantum magickal theory implies we can select a reality through transmission of information, alternatively we can pluck information through selecting a reality.
it is easy to speculate upon the significance of hacking in computer terminology, and thus bridge a gap between technology and magick. 
i no longer use magick as magick uses me, i just have to be open to it happening and never judge it's circumstances or intelligence. often what seems to be bad luck, becomes good fortune, application of value fucks with the program. that's very human, and likeable as an intrinsic quality, i mean we all are programmed to judge. facebook is a classic example of judgement. 
the problem is it's also a fixed point in time and space where consciousness is trapped, it get's stuck in the feedback loop attracting more and more similar positions that validate itself. the non judgemental approach is resistance free, it allows consciousness to flow and things happen. 'it's neither good or bad, it just is' is an effective formula to free the mind from entanglement. of course some times getting entangled is just what the dr. ordered.

Tuesday, January 02, 2018

'andromeda looks beautiful today.' 
i was fiddling with my zap gun, adjusting some valves and circuits and for a moment i peered out the tiny window and saw the galaxy. the words just slipped out my dumb mouth. they floated around me like bubbles and popped over my head. although it was a naturally understandable comment it felt wrong, no one else would ever hear those words, they were meant to be heard and this vision of andromeda was meant to be shared. it was truly magnificent.
i put the zap gun down and left it there, flux circuits exposed, made my way through the hive section and took the corridor to where the ice cubes were. i knew the rules but fuck it, rules don't count in space. space does strange things to you when you been floating through it for long periods. let's face it i been alone a long time, captain of a strange ship, pirate and now peace envoy, caretaker of precious cargo,  the two princesses. 
one from gliese 581b the other from 581c. both in ice cubes, well it was slightly more sophisticated than ice but a combination of suspended animation and tachyon fields kept them on ice for the seventeen year journey. these beauties were being married off to some strange alien lobsters so the galaxy would remain in a state of peace. it was a strange diplomacy, old fashioned really but effective. 
fuck it!
i would be shot for this but life is short. well it is for me outside an ice cube for the girls it would be 17 years longer, but 17 years of deep freeze can make the mind alter and who is to say they may never quite be the same psychologically. i'm doing it for their sanity as well as my own, i reasoned.
i opened the panel and typed in the commands.
fifteen minites later i was pouring hot coffee into two cups and kicking myself at my stupidity. the peace of a galactic federation was at stake, i'd just sabotaged the only hope there was.
i smoked a joint and watched the girls gain full awareness as they sipped their drinks. 
'so we are not there yet?'
i shook my head.
'and you woke us prematurely to show us the view?'
'yes, but seeing as though you are up now why not stay up and stretch your legs, eat some real food, watch some movies, have a bath, enjoy freedom and then in a few years i'll put you under again.'
'it sounds like a holiday,' 581b says.
'yeah that's exactly what it will be.'
'we may as well enjoy some little time before we have to marry those creatures.'
'exactly.' i say it with such relief the girls absolve me of my guilt.
i lead them past the hive and back to the main room where i activate the dome, and just like a petal the metallic structure opens up letting in an array of splendour.
the girls are breathless, it's awesome. we are all dressed in our skin two suits, mine black, theirs a rich purple. i watch them twirl under the scene, around and around, almost dancing, spellbound.
it really is something. the dome offered 180 degree vision and it was filled with the frenzy of phycadelic colour shifts, from softer pastels to fluorescent starbursts of primary's and then slap bang in the centre lay the most incredible looking blue sun.
'it's so beautiful,' 581b whispered.
her hand reached out and found 581c's. fingers clutched.
it was indeed beautiful.
i sat down on the lounge and let the girls enjoy their moment, they pointed out parts of the vista to one another and giggled.
in a few hours we would navigate past andromeda and the view behind us, i'd have to think of a way to hack diagnostics and make the edit to their ice cube continuity status. it should be a piece of cake, a simple use of taychon looped energy would do the trick. that would manipulate the information and put it in the loop therefore it would continually be in transmission, never reaching the monitors of my employers until i was cashed up and gone. i fiddled around on a console and made the hack. now no one back there would know i prematurely awoke the princesses we could all relax. 
so two princesses, a renegade peace envoy, what fun we would have. and we did. it turned a boring voyage into a memorable one. 
years later we were waking up from a deep sleep after a night of debauchery when i realised something was wrong. 
g851b lay wrapped in a silk sheet and her pale flesh rose up and down gently, her lips had a slight tremor every time she exhaled and her eyes fluttered in rem sleep. i wondered what she was dreaming off as guilt flooded my mind. tomorrow morning i would have to put them both under. they are not going to want to go willingly, why would they. all fate had in store was slavery to the lobsters, god knows what terrors that incorporated. i'd have one last session of pleasure and play, and then slip them a sed in a drink, that way things should be easier all round. 
i put my arms around g851b and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. as i lay there it occurred to me g851c was absent. 
i slipped on some shorts and followed a trail of light to the recreational room. g851c was leaning into a modified nourishment outlet and with a long spoon tasting various flavoured ice creams. 
every now and then a sigh of pleasure would escape her lips. i watched from the corridor as i worked out what was going on. in between our fun time and while i slept the girls had taken turns to sneak away into the simulators and stuff their faces on cakes and ice creams, they were gorging out on the good stuff and then sneaking back to relieve the other.
while it was perfectly understandable it did present a problem, each of them had packed on a few pounds, and the weight displacement would effect the calculations when they returned to ice. there would be no way i could hide the discrepancy. i was fucked but at least we had seen andromeda at it's most beautiful.       
      

Monday, January 01, 2018

new years day according to a calendar people have followed, not me, i have no attachments to it or the idea of it, it's a tool, it's a guideline for order, a method for control. it served a purpose once but these days it's pointless and meaningless. 
abstractions have played a large part in life, they are my dark matter, dive in and swim around, you learn a little about what's real and what is not. one mans reality is another mans illusion, we are all stars right?
i watched a three part movie series on the life of carlos the jackal, star of 70's terrorism and idealistic youth to stupid to know the future was a cage or a bullet waiting for them. it's depressing to see how complicit europe was in terrorism, as long as it was not upon their soil, and yet ironically europe hates this about america.
nothing much has changed, the old guard just have younger faces, i guess that's the elite that hates trump now, they hate anything that  takes their power from them. most of them don't even know why they hate him, they just do it because its fashion and they are sheep. the guy is an idiot and the situation is bizarre but it's nowhere near as evil as a clinton administration would be. 

so, i've begun a little review of my book, it needs work, it's complex and i tend to repeat things within the narrative, it really requires an editor. fortunately i may have found one in speedsexy, an agent who seems to like what i write. i am grateful, it gives me someone to write for. perhaps agent speedsexy one day will be my agent, in a literary way, wouldn't that be great. 

my local new years celebration at terrible beach resulted in a ship exploding, fireworks went up in a huge blast and the beach was evacuated. i was asleep in bed, i usually enter the dream state each new years, so missed out on the display and celebration.
http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/fireworks-display-goes-awry-after-barge-catches-fire-off-terrigal-beach-20171231-h0buk8.html

Friday, December 29, 2017

the sea gives but sometimes takes, it can curl itself around a passerby, an innocent fisherman on the rocks, a woman, a man a child. it can come from nowhere, rise like a mighty hand and swipe you from existence. to read the sea you must know it, have it within your soul, for the sea can be a mysterious environment to decipher, many layers in contradiction. 
the sea commands respect, and respect is attention  ones senses must be in tune with the moon, and the ocean will know, it has unfathomable wisdom.
everything's fucked, will be the title of a novel i have yet to write. although i am in good spirits after val and olga hash cookie and me went out for an indian. i saw my friend iggy in the city, we wander around drinking coffee and talking about politics, global conflicts, control methods and girls. i have good friends, few but all exceptional. 
can't put a square peg in a round hole. you can push it, shove it, force it, ask nice, but it's not going to fit. that's an analogy for what i want to do. not fit, i'm the contrarian, never followed the herd, never will.
anyway suddenly i am popular amongst the girls, i don't wanna be, i hate that fuax attention, people wanna wine and dine me, people wanna call me up, wanna know what i think about this or that, wanna know what i eat for breakfast and all that jazz. not sure why people find me interesting, i'm just not them i guess. 
anyways, what do i think? you can read it here like everyone else.
gay marriage? what the fuck has it got to do with me. a girl wants to marry their girlfriend, hey i'm happy for you. not my business.
bill shorten? an absolute opportunist, a disgraceful leader with no integrity whatsoever.
malcolm turnbill? same as above only worse.
the greens? dumb people with no fucking idea. worse than the above.
books? publishing is gone the way of music, over populated with crap, politically correct nonsense, the great writers would never get published today. only women who write about their year of living as an ethic minority will get a book deal, only people who work at the abc get to write a book and have it promoted, it's a racket. only people with an immigration story, only manufactured social engineering projects get a book deal.
music? bowie, lou reed, are dead. there are a few good bands still around but they are a minority, the industry pumps out mediocracy and people love what they are conditioned to love. 
relationships? i don't really know what to say about these things, i don't connect with anyone anymore. sure i have sex and enjoy a healthy sexual life but when i say relationships i think i mean something intimate and i really think that means opening up and revealing yourself, and when that happens people don't like what they see. i mean i'm a heavy soul and byron bay, hippy shit won't work on me, feel good hash tags, causes and movements are just random white noise to me. so there's no fluffy bits hanging around my identity, nothing really superficial to enjoy. so i guess it takes a special kind of person to relate to me.
family? i miss them but the whole concept is alien. sightly disappointing i guess, i mean that inclusively. i disappoint them as much as they me. so that's that.
life? it's brilliant when i am in nature and surfing, appreciating stars etc but the moment i have to deal with the illusions i get depressed. banks, tax, politics  religions are all depressingly present and pointless to the value of our lives. 
writing? is like eating. i have to do it else there is no meaning to anything.
heroes? i loved bowie for the same reason i love all my heroes and heroines. because they do not follow the herd, they always challenge and defy expectation and they teach me something.
spirituality? it's a supermarket out there, find your method towards  connection with the universe and stick with it. the process is the finding. once you find it, let it go, connect in occasionally and keep it healthy.
ex wife? i found myself telling someone the story this morning, it's sad and should be a film. no one would believe the events that led to my divorce. none of my family even know what happened, they all think i had an affair. the truth is much stranger.
the future? it's going to be like the past. light and dark yet necessary. 
isreal? the most intelligent country i have lived in. you have no fucking idea unless you have been there. 
australia? the dumbest country i know. a nation of lambs being led to the abattoir by people they love and celebrate.
the UN? i hate and loathe them.
islam? i'm no friend of it.
chirst? i dig his groove, a master kabbalist.
buddha?  same as christ but much smarter.
the uk? paying the price as the empire comes returns to colonise it. 
best book i ever read? 1984 baby but it's nothing without animal farm, they are connected by the invisible thread.
the future? it's exactly as lenord cohen wrote, bloody.
tv? i like the walking dead best. 

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

swanning around in my sarong, getting domestics done, yeah i have housework to do, laundry, washing, cleaning, scrubbing, vacuuming, paying bills, phone calls, on my one single day off this week, it's almost unbearably hot, almost. there's a constant buzzing of cicadas, no wind, just that stillness you get in intense bush fire weather. soon i will leave for the beach, late afternoon when the sun is not so dangerous, at the moment everything can get burnt to a crisp. fortunately i watered the plants a few days ago, i also did some bush fire preparation and cleared out the dry leaves, made a perimeter around mission control and cleared away all the dead foliage  these are the practical necessities of suburban life in australia. gotta look after the land for the land to look after you.

Sunday, December 17, 2017

we must progress forwards into time, moment by moment. each step transports me someplace new, i was there and now i am here. 
old captain mission was cool, new captain mission is hot, he has longer hair, less teeth, he has adjustable perspectives, flexibility of dream yoga. he's a mass of anomalies, a stranger loop. no one sticks to him, they try, but they fall behind. no one really likes him because he's unlike them, not a follower or leader not a sheep not a wolf but a deep oceanic mystery. 
i have a girlfriend whom texts and calls me non stop, it's gotten banal, she just informs me of stupid vapid things, 'i had a cup of tea, i saw a dog, i am having cake, serial killer lore, hollywood gossip, i know a famous person,' it's driving me nuts to the point where i just reply in stupid pointless messages, 'one of my legs is shorter than the other, my head is stuck in railings,' it's drivel but it's consuming my time, in the end we will fall out and she will hate me to. 
time is shorter than it was before, it's somewhat more of a asset than money. time or cash? so every time my phone rings i feel precious minites slipping away.



Thursday, December 14, 2017

my pond man arrived with some special imported koi food for my fish, it's high grade stuff from japan, i have five big fish, they have expensive tastes. 
we clean out the pond water and debris from the trees, the mud at the bottom of the pool has blocked up the pump so we give that a big clean. the fish are happy, they swim around like atoms. they have no knowledge of outside the pond, no understanding of the vast eco system they inhabit, the palms are a mystery to them, the fronds, maidenhair ferns, finger ferns and strange australian flowers that have bloomed in the last few weeks. the birds that come sit near the pond overhead, the frangipani, the stream that carries water into the pond via waterfall. all these things do not figure in the mind of my fish as they swim around, or wait under the bridge in the shade. all they think about is feeding and dreaming. they play a part in something beyond them, and they have no idea what it could be, i wonder what they dream.
when your number is up, it's up. such is my nonchalant attitude to it all, the bad news is in, all hope is lost, and yet...
the great adventure begins, the transition into a new dimension awaits, the unknown is my friend as we have known one another a long time now so there is not much to fear, it's just letting go, there's nothing else to say. words fall into black holes, lines bend along with light, curved space turns me on, the void baby, it's such a beautiful peace. all things die, all things are born again. 

may the force be with you. 

maybe they can save me, maybe i can save myself. maybe baby. but what's to save, a bag of bones, a data bank of memories that are spilling over, warm blood and cold breath, so many low points but the highlights were amazing. 
the church, bowie, seeing the world before it became the globe, making music, writing, the surf, the stars, the vine. the force was with me. always.


Tuesday, December 12, 2017



being something of a reclusive anti social creature these days i had been jonesing for a church fix for the last few months, i know they were in the usa and eventually would have to return to sydney for a show and but the days just dragged and my need was growing, maybe going to manifest in some awful self destructive implosion  from a sun to a dark star. i stopped smoking weed for so long it felt weird, my health deteriorated, my mojo bled out from my hole riddled aura. 
i had been working long hours and time was distorting around me, one moment i was a baby crying out for a nipple, the next i was a dirty old man crying out for a nipple, what is with this sudden breast fixation i wondered. i'll leave that to the sexy freudian psychotherapists. anyway i was just saying to a friend the other day, i feel like i'm ready to cash in my cards, after all i seen it all, not much in the world inspires me anymore, my best friend dead, bowie gone, my current friend is in hospital, joy is on the decline, nothing interests me, maybe i am just depressed? whatever the malaise, i knew i needed to see the church, only they can fix me.
so when it came for the show i had to race back to the coast after work, shower change, catch train to city, see the band then return to the coast and wake up three hours later for another long day at work where i found myself having to return to the street the venue was on as i dropped a client off at her sisters in marickville, just around the corner from the factory. so it was a congested weekend.
anyways, i was very grateful that sharon and nina had saved me a barrel on which to lean, and nina blessed me with some golden aura which offerred some respite from the awful pain in my leg and the pins and needles shooting through my left hand. 
anyway's the band came on with jeffery caine who proceeded to add a layer of tone that just shifted gears in a very cool new direction, i gotta say he was excellent. 
as far as church gigs go, it was up there, the sound at the factory is never consistent and there's awful moments where it goes all out of phase but this never depletes from the performance. during those bits i watch and then when the sound comes back i listen. 
so coming onstage and playing aura is always an impressive beginning, and the songs have new textures and parts, new arrangements, that make them sound new and dynamic again. i loved the show but i have to say i wish they would just drop milky way and metropolis, the two crowd pleasers. maybe i'm just being selfish but i think it's time to put those songs to rest from live sets. 
as far as set lists go, it was an almost perfect inclusion of songs that all seemed to fit together, day 5 was transformed and transcended  possibly an all time church highlight for me, but block, constant in opel, tantalised all incredibly reworked to give them a vitality that saturated everyone present. brilliant. however, it was the new songs which impressed me more, the handful they played were executed with such immense power and conviction by steve at the front and this incredible band i was filled up with whatever missing ingredient i needed, my fix was in, it was mainlined into my blood and hit my brain at the speed of life. steves hit a new level in his presence as a stage man, he's up there with the greats, embodying the songs with conviction, love and respect, his base playing and vocals are masterful and the many tangents the band jams along make the whole evening worthwhile. 
so thank you. happy xmas to the church. 

Friday, December 08, 2017

instructions to agents
travel light
pack a book, camera and bikini
buy ticket to large island in southern hemisphere
never look back.

instructions for agents
sleep is where we meet,
exchange information
dream stuff is never snorted but inhaled

instructions for agents
look at the stars often
orgasm with them in mind 
it's all just an experience
until it isn't.

Friday, December 01, 2017

the last few months, since my return from the uk i decided to detox from weed, a big mistake. 
my body started to deteriorate, pains in my knees, my leg unable to support me, throbbing pain in the calf which i have borne in my usual stoic way. working hours pushing me over the brink, physical health, mental heath and spiritual health all falling rapidly, until i smoked a spliff and within seconds healed. i must keep smoking, keep on smoking smoke the sky away.

i have not written for weeks, maybe months, nothing. my story lays unfinished untold, and it must be borne. i'm thinking of doing something very strange with it, but it may fail. whatever, it's going to take time.

Monday, November 06, 2017

the terrible fact is i have to register my business, this involves various hours filling forms, making calls, searching online and dealing with australian bureaucracy. it kills any passion for business dead. it's a nightmare against creativity and enthusiasm  a system designed to crush anything it may not like. apparently my name is used by someone else, fuck them i think, no one should own words. 
anyway, i sort things out and move onwards, i buy a filing cabinet for the office, mission control has far to many piles of paper randomly scattered through it's rooms, so i bring a sense of order to my chaos. it has to be done. 
now the website needs making.

Saturday, November 04, 2017

the waves spat me out and i walked up the shore to where she lay, by the time i arrived i was almost dry. she looked up at me as i blocked the sun, 'how was the water?'
'come find out,' i whisper and reach out for her hand.
i can see the excuses flutter through her mind, the tourist anxieties, sharks, jellyfish, sting rays, currents. 
'i'll be with you, won't let anything happen at all. in fact we won't go out of your depth.'
she has no choice but to trust me.
the sand is hot, she hops down and the first sensation of the ocean washing over her feet is relief. i guide her in, but she's smiling and filled with confidence. knee deep she laughs and i suggest she throws herself right in and gets wet. 
i lead by example and she follows. 
a powerful flood of chemicals race through her brain, the pure rush, the joy of the oceans embrace. we hold hands and i lead her further out, demonstrating how to take on a larger wave. you just dip under, never let it meet you head on at face level, just dive under and shoot out, the water will do the work for you. she tries it and comes out the other side. it's still shallow, waist hight. we repeat this three times and she finds she's further out, the water is up to her shoulders.
'this is our zone, don't need to go any further out.'
she smiles, and splashes me. we hover out there waiting, i see the wave in the distance, part of a set. i explain the system. she follows me. we dip under, surface, dip under, surface, dip under and surface, then turn and face the beach. 'follow my lead, just arms out feet out, ride the wave until you feel you should stop.kick off with your feet, ready, steady, go.'
whatever it is, chemical, phycological, physical, the surf will fix it.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

love to all witches and wizards, you do the great work, and i respect that greatly.

i'm writing a novel, it's almost finished then i have to work on its narrative style. i think it's groovy, i think you will like it. i hope it will be finished in a month or two.
oh oh, there's panic in the world, theres panic in london, panic in the streets of islington, panic in the stanmore vicinity, panic in the notting hillbilly, panic in terrible terrigal, panic in the oceans and the seas, there's panic in the borough of hackney, panic in the roads of old avalon, panic in the air and panic in my hair. fucking panic everywhere.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

investigations into my new idea prove worthwhile, however one must navigate the trenches of ridiculous australian red tape, and like all prison systems they want their slice of the pie. so i do the work and pay a strata of unimaginative vultures for the service of what appears to be some sort of racket. 
that's the thing about australia that most people don't know. i love it because it has a natural beauty that is unsurpassed. it's a frontier, a land mass on the edge of the world where everything is unique. what i loathe about it is the people who rule over us are corrupt, the systems they run corrupt and the average australians appear to worship this due to some convict prison romance.

i concluded a long time ago, the australian system has not changed since settlement, there are the convicts and the jailers and they all live together indistinguishable from one another. it's an open prison with the illusion of being democratic and free but the reality is your tax file number is your chain, and the government is your ball.
an example of this is the NBN which was dreamt up by an incompetent prime minister and his public service. we were told australia would have the most significant infrastructure ever, the national broadband network which would wire up every house to fibre optic cable thus opening the future up for everyone to join the new economy. business would boom, innovation could flow to the four corners of the globe, and australia would join the information superhighway in the super fast lane.
the result 10 years later is a white elephant. 
both parties are responsible, equally, labour and the liberal party. labour for having very poor organisational skills and blowing the budget. the liberals for just cost cutting, and generally taking the vision and turning it into some sort of no frills dinosaur. oh, and blowing the budget. in fact the current PM is really responsible as it was he that made all the terrible mistakes that now leave us with a $56 billion white elephant net that is already out of date and running so inefficiently half it's customers have complained to the ombudsman.
(i am one)
now apply this to every single idea the govt. has promoted.
the french submarines, $50 billion, spent to win one disgraceful minion his election. a useless outdated model that runs on diesel and cannot be delivered until fifty years from now. when all experts will tell you, by then every submarine will be a drone operated from a base on land and unmanned.
then there's the NDIS national disability insurance scheme, costing the tax payer  $21 billion. let me just say, this cost will double next year as i've been working with it and it's a major failure. 
now, you ask why do these ideas get supported by the people?
the answer is people here are easily seduced. they always have been, ask john friedrich who stole $296 million from the govt. 
a country of crooks ruled by the corrupt someone said to me, now i think that's a bit harsh but i see the point she is making and it's hard to disagree completely. the smart australians are the ones that leave.
our goverments are so bad, when they are not screwing the public they are knifing each other in the back. 
i personally cannot understand how the public tolerate this kind of governance. in europe they would be rioting, a guillotine erected outside their window as a reminder of whom they serve. but here it's a tv crew and some dumb abc journalists who all agree and enable this kind of rule. 
i'm a big believer in closing the abc down, public money wasted upon a dept. of propaganda. it's backed every hare brained idea they come up with and can't critically analyse at all. in fact the abc are probably the worst media machine for information i have ever seen, there is no balance at all. a fake institution if ever there was, pushing it's agendas at every opportunity it can.  

Thursday, October 19, 2017

good to take the early train into the hive, meet my friends imi and iggy, have amazing northern chinese food, noodles made fresh and fast, eggplant in some sweet sour chilli type sauce. i like places with no frills, no posters, shiny menus, smiling waitresses, table clothes or paintings on the walls, this is bare and simple. it's cheap and excellent. 
we walk along into the japanese book shop where i pick up 'blood year' by david kilcullen which details the massive failure of obama and the rise of isis. i'm particularly interested in his comments about isis now, they lost the battle for land but the west is where the war will be fought and it ain't over baby. in fact it's only just beginning. kilcullen wrote an essay for the quarterly from which this book is built around and i'm looking forwards to getting my teeth into it.

however on the train i read a short story by laird barron, the forest and wow, that guy is amazing. i'm going to have to finish 'occultation' before starting blood year.

iggy gives me some constructive feedback on my new work, he's dead right, as usual. switched on guy. we part ways, imi and iggy go looking for a suit and i slip away back to mission control. 

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

those words that leak like snakes from lips that can't stay closed. there's so much hurt in everyone you touch and you just make it worse. your influence traverses distance and time, it rots the very sparks of life, enabled by a good man who married the wrong wife.
my existence would be snuffed like cosmic dust, a life of happenstance, the gods of words and irony bellow up above, for that's theres nothing unconditional in a rotten mothers love.
the toxic emotions are corrupted, they are cynical and mean, for once where there was beauty now it is unseen. in a narcissistic streak that lasted many years, let it be known now, all you brought were tears. age will not wear you down or erode your bitter taste, all the fucking time you had to love you just always chose to hate. 

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

https://youtu.be/JhS4iHOiags

please buy the new live cd from shriekback : it's brilliant!




Friday, October 06, 2017


expect only beauty, the rest is unpredictable, yes clever wordplay and beautiful soundscapes but here lies a new sound, less rock more roll, the roll of waves, the surf is here, in the sound, it's pouring through the headphones, i only see it now it exists within me. i had no evidence to show what direction the church would move in, they are on their own trajectory, always have been a band that does not follow fashion but follows the flow. 
the flow takes them to this pivotal piece of music, where the intricacies of coral reefs lay spawning under full moons, and the octopus of sounds weaves through cites made of beauty and playgrounds for the seahorses. there's something very innocent that catches the light, but there's also the depths, the places only experience could take you, it's light music with some heavy soul. hey, if you want a title like man, woman, life death infinity then you got a have some weight. i was stumped first listen,it was thing of beauty, a magnificent journey but it was unlike anything i had heard from the church previous. that's what i love, it takes a brave band to do that. 
my fave songs, fog and dark waltz. 

Friday, September 29, 2017

i'm still writing my book, it's cnsumed me as the plot is very complex and sometimes i loose my way. i try not to over complicate things but it's tricky. i got to chapter three and realised it was not quite right. it wasn't where i wanted the story to go, i had hit a wall. so i threw myself in the surf, it was freezing, my heart nearly exploded but the wave was there. and i figured it out. spent the day writing chapter three again. 
it's a big idea. 

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

managed to catch up with iggy in the city today, had a great chat about politics, art and australian culture, had some interesting fig drinks, checked out a few bookshops. walking through sydney i see how the food culture is prevalent, everyone is a masterchef, it's okay, i like food and the asian heavy pop up shops are cool. however it would be nice to see more bookshops.  
the project with the other writer is doomed, she is talking to much and not writing, i don't think she actually has the imagination to be the kind of writer i like or would want to work with, maybe it's just me, anyhow, the parts i wrote i have taken and morphed into a new story, a novel. it's pretty much an epic and i am working on it currently. i will probably self publish as soon as it's complete.
i think the other writer would be better suited towards something investigative or research based. 

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

the body of work was burnt by fire, a lifetime consumed and obliterated, ash floating in the air currents. dust.
it's where history lays, it's where we all end up, it's end of the line, end of time. ash and dust are the past and the future. 
all the endeavours of man, all the monuments and art, all the effort. i guess that's why the optimists say its not the destination it's the journey. so what's the point of anything?
it's to create.
not for the result but for the act. it's what our brains are for, it's what love is, its what god is, its what art should be. 
i've been looking at art movements lately and i love the situationists, a true movement towards liberating but they have made one fundamental mistake which is to think das kapital is not the spectacle. it is very much part of the spectacle for while karl and engels were sipping on their expensive chardonnay's writing about redistribution of wealth their work was turned into pop cultural politics we see today. 
the working classes are no longer represented by the left leaning governments. the labour is not valued by the labour movement, ask craig thompson how much he values his members and he will say, 'as long as they pay for my strippers and hookers i'm a socialist.'
while guy deboard was one of the worlds greatest thinkers in my opinion he was mistaken that marxism was the answer. it can't be because it is part of the spectacle.
especially now, with the rise of the internet and social media. the spectacle permeates all things, it moves through the post truth world, it radiates in causes  in memes and commentary  it fractures society so the truely alienated are the ones with differing views. inversion philosophy. all things that are true must contain their paradox. alister crowley was right. lao tau was correct. laurel and hardy are the righteous.       
the water is shockingly cold but i adapt fast, it's still surface licks at my skin, no wave. no old wave, no new wave, just no wave and i do. i know the wave. it's going to take me away from where ever i am and i will find myself somewhere new. in that space will be something pure and liberating. all i have to do is wait for it to arrive, catch it at the right point and love the experience with pure joy. simple. 

Monday, September 11, 2017

not sure what occurred in london but my taste buds suddenly took on a new appreciation for indian food. look, i  have always liked indian food but only when my grand mother made it and that was at a late age, in early adulthood. i had infrequently gone out to indian restaurants but always chosen the same item from a menu no matter where i was, the palak panner. 
when my friends tez and jean visited me we ate a few meals at indian restaurants as they seemed to be connoisseurs, strangely something most english people have within their genetic make up, possibly due to the high number of indian places open after pubs shut in london, plus india has pervaded english culture and the two are intrinsically connected which is a good thing. the empire is now  being colonised democratically. 
anyway's in london i had a few indian meals and tried something called a biryani which i have to say was amazing. 
on return to australia i have searched for the same type of quality, i even attempted to home cook it but my attempt was dismal. 
so last night i got a call from two old friends whom are moving to new zealand and they wanted to see me and go to the indian restaurant we all love in terrible beach. 
on my fridge there was a take away menu so i scanned the meals hoping they would do a biriyani otherwise i'd default back to panner palak. no sign of the sacred biriyani. 
so at the restaurant i was about to order my spinach dish when i saw the specials board and thus my desires were granted.
it was perfect.
this restaurant is quite simply the best indian on earth. i can't eat this food every week but maybe once every month or two would be fine, it's a beautiful spot and an eating experience. and if you need to rekindle the romance there's a hotel next door and these spring evenings as you stroll along the beach walking of a decent meal all sorts of possibilities are open. 
  

Thursday, August 31, 2017

i am in collaboration with a friend who wants to write. she is obsessed by crime and like a lot of australian girls seem to read a lot of true crime books. 
i suggest two characters  her and me, the female is a hard drinking, hard fighting, hard talking aggressive alpha female who possesses all the qualities of a male whereas i am the quiet bookish introspective loner. more female. 
the inversion of roles goers against every modern drive in fiction, especially as the female is a husband basher.
my writing partner will write the crime scene. i will add some flourish and conversation to introduce the main characters. 
let's see how we progress.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

not quite the soft focus not quite the hard, things slip in and out of some points in time and space, flickering existence, fluttering life. i don't know anymore, i want to let it all go, just exit stage left and take another part in a new play but the script says i have  more lines to speak so i will have to complete the performance.

north korea is shooting missiles across the islands off japan, it is a reckless act of defiance by a mad dictator. with capability to launch anywhere and strike the american heartland i imagine there will be some kind of retaliation, there has to be, it's the right action to so much provocation. japan has no army, no war machine, it is dependant upon it's allies and in many ways it is the front line along with the south who do have a military and capacity to strike back. 
complex games in the sea of japan. butterfly wings ripple cause that may effect australia but will certainly provoke an american move. 
hang on to your self.  

Saturday, August 26, 2017

up before the dawn, i slept deeply in a soft night of vermillion dreams. the episodes all fall from my head like strange foam bubbles, filling up the void. when i walk down it's still dark even birds are not awake. 
i drive down to the ocean, watch the sunrise. i sip on a coffee and feel the stillness, the gentle splash of tide, the wind circulates, my heart beating strong. 
life without pan.


Friday, August 25, 2017

the days of night, the september country, the forgotten memory, the ironic state. the mental catastrophe of variations in inertia. spring heeled mission, the limehouse captain, captain tripper, the cockney reject, the prodigal sun.
walking along the beach with my friend who is wrapped in salvation i look out at the water, still and gentle, calmness tranquility waves caress my skin like the warm kisses after sex with an ocean nymph.
the dying winter sunlight on the cusp of spring, crisp surface tension stretches out to the horizon, in the distance a shoreline north. 
we have walked a long way, up the strange place they call skillion, to the lookout where the wrecks of many ships are detailed in stone. sunken treasure, like all good rewards awaiting discovery. 
     

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

twelve hour flight, a marathon jaunt from the nasty technological security systems where my prized mint sauce was taken by a fucking robot in uniform to kuala lumpur where they steal a tiny tube of tooth paste from me. but it's not 100mg i protest. rules he says. but i already had it approved by the uk customs and you guys when i checked in. rules, he says. i hand him the 100mg and mutter stick the toothpaste and your rules.
the second leg of the flight was empty, i nab four seats and sleep the entire way arriving fresh. e tickets rule, efficient and stress free. my driver waiting for me.
mission control looks lonely. 
in the morning i head dow to the beach for my routine swim and coffee. it's brilliant, clean, fresh and sunny. the birds natter away, colour fills the skies, everything back to paradise. but i miss people, family i hung out with, jakob. it's a strange feeling.
i have a few days before i get back to work. a few days to work out what comes next.