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.

Sunday, August 09, 2015

city streets are busy with some running ceremony, joggers snorting like horses as i brush past them on my mission. 'city to surf' makes no sense to me on my opposite trajectory. i'm travelling from the surf into the metropolis looking for two books that popped up on my radar. 
i grab them from the jap bookshop and a copy of 'slow bullets' alastair reynolds new book 'slow bullets' from galaxy and jump back on the train. i have my head buried in the final pages of my novel when a guy called adam introduces himself. 
'you look switched on, ' he says in a strong germanic accent.
'positively,' i say. 
i deduce from his general demeanour that he is indeed a time travelling anarchist, he's wearing clothes that are from another century and has that mad glow in his eyes that only prophets, born again christians and time travelling anarchists have.
anyway i settle down in the train to hear what he has to say, apart from complementing me in my sunglasses he seems to think i should pass a message on. he's quite intelligent and i kinda like the fact he has also embraced some contemporary music.
'what ya listening to?' i point at his i phone.
'shriekback, english band from the eighties, still pumping them out.'
'ah yeah, i like them to. saw them in london and i saw barry when he played in xtc.'
'okay that's impressive. i knew i chose the right man.'
'for what exactly?'
'well you gotta get the word out there mission.'
'what word and how did you know my name.'
'i know far more than i should, it's true. now i heard you wrote a blog, and sometimes i even read it.'
i'm surprised, i didn't know people read my blog, i know a few people say they have heard of it but i never think that they actually read it. so i sit back and relax in the chair, the city seems to pass very slowly.
'the message is this...'
i raise my hand. i know what your message is, i know everything about you,'
'i'm impressed.'
'it's a shame man, your message was stolen by a guy called marx and made famous by his work in which there is no reference to you.'
'yeah plagiarism, he took my ideas and wrote that wretched book.'
'das kapital.' 
'yep, but it's a perversion of my idea.'
'yeah and yours was a perversion of something else.'
'are you suggesting i stole the idea.'
'no, it did originate well before you, i think you can follow it all the way back, all the way to solomon.'
'okay, i'm offended. i'm getting off here, next stop.'
'hey, you said i was switched on adam.'
'illuminated indeed. see ya mission. i'm heading back to bavaria.'

Saturday, August 08, 2015

outtakes from the rolling stones

contemplating nothingness can sometimes be a good tactic, magickally speaking. the idea of creating a space is not new age but old age, it's what's necessary before manifestation so these last days of winter i am living in a space, nothingness, no ideas, thoughts stay, all pass through in a procession that amuses and bemuses, and like all things in space, nature arbours a vacuum so my space is filled with the people who enter. one a particularly nice guy reminds me about community and belonging. 
let's face it, after 40 years of social work i'm not a community guy. the less i have to do with people the more content i am. if i wanted community i'd be a socialist or communist but those days are well and truly dead and buried. 
community through like minded people would just find me stagnating, there are no like minds apart from those whom seem to grok what i am all about. these people are far and few between so consider yourself special. 
there's religious / spiritual community and i would find that so primitive, i know God loves me and she loves me, so why would i need to display that with a whole bunch of people other than dancing with joy at the sun sinking over the horizon or rising.
me i take my sacramental medicine, i have my hymns, i require no affirmation or feedback from anyone really although i'm a listener and i will always listen.
work stuff swirls around me like a storm, i have no idea what's happening there anymore, it appears that now everyone is squabbling and fighting amongst themselves, i watch and remain vigilant to the tides of discontent.
in my space falls boxes, books, music and some ideas. 
currently listening to the brand new kennedy kilbey release, 'inside we are the same' and it's excellent as expected, the more rock orientated songs are amazing. these guys have something special happening. i listen to shreikback in the car wowing me with clever rhythms and wordsmith - ism.
i even listened to led zepplin which i have acquired a late life appreciation for, my punk days seemed to keep them at bay. great band though and clever players, john bonham wow!
i get robert plant, his voice is pretty slick, i don't know how he does it, keeps it shifting gear on the beat all the time. is it feel or practice?
books, wow, i'm reading some stuff about the essenses, and the templars, the essenes keep writing to me, they want me to join their cult or whatever they have. 'i am part essene' i say, an original but they ignore my disclosure. yeah john the baptist jesus and captain mission.
i'm writing something about the 'book of the dead.' it's pretty out there.

Friday, August 07, 2015

morning at terrible beach, i'm gene sequencing my capacity to become aquatic. the surf is gentle, no power in the wave but it's a beautiful form and i'm appreciating it's aesthetic as negative ions magnetise themselves to my skin. the levels of perception shift and someone mentions sharks.
i no longer really fear them, i don't not fear them, it's an indifference despite recent attacks, i've had worse experience with people, sharks have mostly left me alone. if they are in the water and feel like they need to bite me, i think they will be disappointed, years of alkaline diet has changed my chemistry, i don't think they would feel particularly driven to devour a life form that tastes of powerful plant medicines. 
maybe i am the fool, i should design the surfers pack, stepping into the surf despite the shark in the water tugging at his leg rope. the fool has no attachments to mental fears or physical for these are generated by our perception of death being irreconcilable. maybe i'm being pretentious here, i would panic if i saw a shark in the water near me, but in the cosmic stream it's not that significant. besides in the tarot one single card is defined often by those that surround it.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

captain mission

background notes-  about a year ago i had to get all proactive and have my manager removed for being abusive and assaultive, for basically sabotage and undermining all my work and making my clients unsafe in their own home and live in fear. she was a bully and she actually beat one up. she had got away with this and many other various actions for a long time and one day after listening to my clients talking about their feelings towards her i decided to do something. 
the dept. is a massive slow moving lumbering machine, filled with ego's, bullies and thugs who run a protection racket for one another in middle management so i knew it was going to be hard. however i planned my case carefully and eventually an external investigator concluded she must be removed and then sued by the dept. who employed her. 
while the investigation went on she was transferred to a different area of the dept, and my unit knew a awesome kind of happiness and glasnost type era. 
it was joyful period, these guys really came out from their shells and started to bloom. i knew i had done the right thing.
1 year later -
just before i left for europe i said to the managers up there in their ivory tower, 'the clients are really happy at the moment, please don't change anything.'
the day after i left for my overseas trip they reinstated the abusive manager, promoted her albeit to a different area and got her close friend in as our new manager. 
the new manager and her conspired against me.
when i returned after two months away, not only was i shocked to discover these events, i was also told my shifts / roster had changed radically, and my first day back i was told to scrub the walls instead of attend a meeting. now, i don't mind scrubbing walls, i don't give a toss but that's not my job and i knew that this was the payback from above for notifying one of their own. it was the punishment, especially the roster which was illegal.
when i confronted the new manager about the new roster i was told it would not change. she changed it for other people on the team taking into consideration all their needs but not mine. so i informed her that my roster was actually illegal, it did not give me adequate days off between shifts. she ignored it...

today - i go into the meeting, all the team and all the managers, and i'm running late as i have to stop off at a clients psychiatrist to discuss some issue so they are all waiting for me to arrive. when i walk in they are all angry, 'why are you late, blah blah blah.'
when i tell them i was working, in my own time, off the clock as i don't get rostered the right hours to manage my client they quickly shut up.
i was feeling supremely confident because like i said earlier i had one immaculate move left and i was about to play it.
when we get to discussing the roster i am asked my opinion, so i say, 'it really feels like you are punishing me through the roster because i notified an abuse by one of your managers. truth is, i would do it again. if someone wants to abuse our clients i will do whatever i can to expose them. but it's obvious you people don't like it, you want payback, revenge. i understand you want to punish me, so i'll take the punishment but seeing as though this is the consequence of my actions i'm going to have to look at it from an occupational health and safety perspective. so i will file a report that says, staff who report abuse through the notification system set up by the ombudsman will be punished for it.'

i pull out the completed form and walk towards the fax machine. every one there knows the ombudsmen would receive a copy.
well, you should have seen them falling over one another to stop me, almost like something cartoon. i turned and very clearly said, 'change my fucking roster so it's legal and leave me alone.'

so i'm feeling pretty fucking good about myself. yeah, i told ya it was an ace.

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

today is another day but different, it's damper and colder and makes me feel lonely. but it also gives me some preparation time for the showdown i have to confront at work, the one where yet again i have to tell everyone from management how to do their jobs. the one where i play my ace card, it is an ace card, it's fucking brilliant ace and maybe after it's played i can tell you how i did it. it's not war but needs to be treated like warfare. it's not a place where strength matters because the people who assume they are in powerful positions can only be floored by one thing. intelligence stumps them, people who intellectually and with style, not just ego but the flourish of spiritual war, can confront them into submission. they have no policy or procedure to fall back upon, because they have never met someone like me. i say this after 40 years experience as a social worker type in a country where they really are very primitive in thought and thinking. i will win and i will file my report as soon as i can get back here.  

Monday, August 03, 2015

ghost dog and me wander the streets of terrible beach before the civilian population arise from their slumber, the sun rising over the ocean. it's a vast still expanse, a slumbering mass and i feel the pull, i can feel it tug at my cells, every atom that my body contains ghost dog likes the sand, i like the water.
all my life i felt this pull, from my early days at skool maths, gazing out the windows into grey london skies while the education  system droned on. i never learnt anything in that place, only how to use my imagination and escape the hellish place, somewhere warmer, somewhere with a beach and blue skies, some where like terrible beach.
ghost dog and i.

Sunday, August 02, 2015

drive home into dawn, on my right the magnificent coastal sun exploding over the horizon in it's cosmic dance, water blooms cascade light and you get the idea of divinity, you know this greatness, awesome and not indifferent. it's there to be praised and loved, appreciated and observed. my eye takes in the command, the whole world is a burning bush, aflame with it's quantum intelligence and life. 
on the other side a wall of red rock, ancient and majestic, holding the power of time. the things held within, trapped in their infinitely small motions, atoms like memory, captain fission, mission...
some one asked me yesterday, what is your mission?
i was quite and held myself in check, my mission is like the chaos star, it reaches out into so many layers, so many dimensions, it's to do nothing, change everything, it's to destroy and create, it's to see with my eye fire vision, to know gods, and God, to make love to the goddess and fuck her, it's to radiate and absorb, it's to forget and recall, it's to be the fool and the magickian, to be the universe in a grain of sand. my mission is unknowable, and unending, it defies all codex, it just is what it is and isn't.
i wanted to look into her eyes and tell her all this but instead i said nothing, i can't go around answering questions like this when people ask, can i?
the force of nature makes me infinitesimal, obliterated from matter, yet very much part of it. not a tiny cog but a huge great big massive engine of change, an agent writing my report.
captain mission, peace out.   

Friday, July 31, 2015

early morning terrible beach, the surface of the ocean is blue glass, still like the day comes running to a standstill. i park up and watch the seven seas in my head calm, take some deep breathes, negative ions jump around me, like the mosh pit peoples. i embrace the energy and orient myself. it's been a while. 

Thursday, July 30, 2015

feeling better today as the sunlight streams through mission control and the birds fly across the garden making their happy sounds. ah yes, getting my groove back, with a freshly cleaned pond, my garden looking somewhat battered but wild and sexy, my hair growing longer and competing with the garden, people in the streets looking at me as i shuffle past them with my salads and mexicana stuff. what's going down?
gotta adapt, something i guess i do well, adapt to conditions and enviroment. i was behind that ball early on in the game. 
australia is in turmoil after it's australian of the year, it's indigenous football star has been booed by crowds after he gets the ball in his footy matches, something i know zero about. apparently people are racist when they boo him, although i defer my opinion. i think this is something else other than racism, it's much more complex as adam did pull a 13 year old girl out from a crowd during a match and had her removed for calling him an 'ape' during a match. 
i dunno, her face became the face of australian racism and i figure from a social workers point of view 13 year olds don't need that kind of exposure, yeah she was dumb and ignorant but adam would have done better to pick an adult. the booing started then and adam responds by some aboriginal wardance thing directed at the crowds. mmm,the crowds may be dumb morons but it is sports and that's the bottom line. however for the media to call this racism is stupid and reflective of the type of media we have here. dumbed down, politically correct and agenda driven.
no other aboriginal player gets booed and what do you call the aboriginal supporters whom boo adam, racist. nope that don't work.  
there is no doubt elements of racism has crept into this but the debate is so one sided, and it's distracting from the real victims of racism. adam has led a privileged life, able to speak from a position people listen therefore he needs to be nuanced in his approach not divisive. however when you put thousands of people in a sporty type event and criticise them for booing, i think you have to have rocks in your head. how can you police that? 
i think people in australia are very racist, in fact it's one of the dumbest countries i've lived in, everything dumbed down to it's black or white and the media here don't help. you are either one side or the other. people need to get a wider perspective before they take a side. the racist people i encounter are usually very intelligent, hold positions of power, usually stereotype people or patronise. my way of dealing with it is to mentally out wit them, i know i'm never going to change their thinking, the neural network is calcified when it comes to racism. maybe everyone is racist and that's just the nature of us. maybe the smart thing to do is just accept that instead of forcing some kind of weird artificial harmony upon us. let people think what they want, let people say what they want, but actions should carry certain responsibilities and consequences. if people accept what they hear, or read as gospel some internet meme then that's their issue. i like to hear the other side and investigate, draw my own conclusion and be open to the possibility i may be wrong. i'm not attached to being right. 
my friend james pointed a few facts out to me about the adam case which makes me even more uncertain, but one thing we agree on the media and the afl are to blame more so than adam should be, he's just as much a victim as the young girl.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

where else on earth can you beat up people, abuse your staff, come to work on ecstasy and leave someone drowning in a running bathtub while going off for a drive, where else can you feed someone bread and water for dinner, forget their birthday, run a food budget for $5 a day while you get to eat up big time for free. where else can you leave people laying in a pool of piss, take them to macdonalds and call it community access, where else can the ohs panel ignore serious abuse of clients and staff while spending two hours discussing a nail that needs removing from a fence. where else does the management protect those that betray their position and demonise the people that expose this. where else can the perpetrators enjoy protected status and promotion through the ranks while their exposers are targeted and bullied through rostering and salary adjustment?
where can people sit down in front of tv watch sports all shift while clients lay in their rooms bored out of their skulls, where else can i be transferred because i get on to well with clients i support.
why family and community services of course where i have the prestigious title of being called a trouble maker and you know what? i'm so proud they call me that. i'm so very proud that these morons hate me for exposing their corrupt little lifestyle careers as i stand up for the people we are supposed to be helping. they never met anyone like me. i refuse to play charades with them and they loathe me, and the more they try to fuck me over the stronger i feel. 
one day someone will hear the story of the reoccurring issues of mis management, deceit and corruption that make up the public service. one day people will understand the real deficit in australia is not financial, it's in management skills and i am currently surrounded by weak little power crazed idiots who are so tiny minded they think they are beyond justice, remove them and you would have an efficient system. it's coming, one way or another FACS, i'm coming for you. 

Saturday, July 18, 2015

my friend kate away texts me from some blue mountain retreat, 'david bowie day on rage' so i flick on the tube and catch a few classics before work. later i tune in to the abc 24 channel and watch a bowie documentary, it's an australian one so it's a bit dodgy, i mean they wheel out these people who reel out the cliques, oh yeah characters, costumes, orange hair, collaborations with queen. come on, i think, what about the song-writing and music. but then they speak about the 'bowie is' exhibition in melby and i start to tune out. later in the same show a bloke called james valantine is in a pub talking to two art philanthropists about the australian art scene.
'it's filled with fat bureaucracy, to many politics, no real vision, no real investment in arts, they don't like innovation, it's a closed shop. full of mid level managers with no imagination.'
hello! that's exactly what i wrote yesterday. i like it when i feel validated, it makes me feel err... normal. 
by the way, if you are in oz and reading this go see the bowie is exhibition, if it's anything like the london one you will love it. 
obviously i can't fight a whole massive govt. body, i'm accepting that, and also that the culture of australia is based around the opposite of innovation. it's inherent in the actual people who seem to be corrupt on some level within themselves. no ones perfect granted but there is a strange anomaly here and i wouldn't be the first to notice it. it exists everywhere, i know that and is not just limited to these antipodal shores. however compared to scandinavia and canada it does appear somewhat magnified.
institutionalised thinking creates a kind of stagnation, a rot sets in and any change becomes impossible, australians being nervous around black people are highly agitated around smart ones. and the worst kind are ones that are fearless in their critique of the establishment. over in oz i'm considered black, in europe people don't even categorise me into race, i'm just accepted as a person. 
is it just a racial thing, no i don't think so. it's far deeper than that, maybe going back to the days of a convict settlement, the fact that even today australia holds up its criminals in more esteem than its artists and creatives. it celebrates it's murderers, bank robbers and serial killers to the point where they would get their own chat shows or mini series. there's a thin line between the police and the criminal element, the two are entwined to the point they are indistinguishable in manner, sometimes even the criminal has more sophistication than the average policeman whom in entering a govt body that already owns his balls and has them over a slow fire, has no choice but to comply. 
all govt. bodies work this way, they maintain a status quo and woe be-tied anyone who attempts to challenge it, innovators, are the enemy, especially the dark ones who are to smart for their own good.
so i have to accept the obvious, it's hard. but i have to. and i have to also adapt for this is what is required more than anything for me to survive.