old captain mission, jaded and eye's narrow slits, scanning mission control for a candle to light and something to light it with, my friends, the daze have been long and strange, sex, drugs and john lee hooker, pan feels neglected, sam feels rejected, emilie feels respected, me, i feel connected to everything, yes like a little fractal within a fractal.
The psychadelic furs play love my way and the news is on, some minors where found down a mine shaft in tassie, what were they doing out so late, shouldn't they be at school. there's comets coming, enetering the atmosphere, eta wednesday night, the closest comet in a while is about to break up over our heads, this could be a job for captain mission but first i need a cup of tea and some walnuts.

i trained a little monkey once to crack nuts with a hardback volume of Harlots Ghost by Norman Mailer, it was in a country with a hot climate, the monkey was a spider monkey but i called him junky becuase he was addicted to smoking cuban cigars and the occasional snort of coke. i won him in a poker game, my first and last game, poker's not something i particuarly enjoy, to many serious faces, anyways we lived in a shack by the indian ocean and over the weeks i taught him how to crack nuts. at nights i'd be fucking Lara, the girl down the street, but junky he would chop up a line or two, and then go on his nocturnal little habitual break and enter missions. he was a villan, a kinda shifty crook who would have fitted in with the artful dodger, but i think he was to much of a loner, bit like me perhaps. anyways he'd sneak into people's cabins and steal their booze, get loaded on pharmacutical drugs he'd find in bathrooms and stumble back in at the crack o dawn, sleep for 4 hours then wake ready to crack nuts in the shade of a palm. Junkie the Monkey and i were good friends, we had a mutual understanding, i never judged him for his vices and he never questioned my sexual prefferences. you gotta respect that in any primate, yeah?