what are we listening to at mission control

the waterboys
one of the greatest bands ever along with the church

excerpt from 'a fraction of the whole' by steve toltz'

Am i changing? Is a mans character changeable? imagine an immortal. revolting to think he might be making the same boo boos over the centuries. to think of the immortal on his 7000552nd birthday still touching the plate even when someone has told him its hot - surely we have deep capacity for change but our 80 years doesn't give us ample opportunity. You have to be a fast learner. You have to cram infinity into a handful of lousy decades.
This morning i passed a horribly deformed beggar who was for all practical purposes merely a torso rattling a cup. Was it really me who gave him 100 francs and said take the day off? It wasn't me, not exactly. It was one of my selves, one of the multitudes. Some of them laugh at me. Others bite their nails in suspense. One snorts with derision. That's how they are, one of the multitudes. Some of the selves are children and some are parents.That's why every man is his own father and his own son. With the years if you learn enough you can learn how to shed yourselves like dead skin cells. Sometimes they come out of you and walk around.
Yes i am changing. Change is when new selves come into the foreground while others recede into forgotten landscapes. Maybe the definition of living a full life is when every citizen in the hall of selves gets to take you for a spin, the commander the lover the coward the misanthrope the the fighter the priest the moral guardian the immoral guardian the lover of life the hater of life the fool the judge the jury the executioner, when every last soul is satisfied at the moment of death. If only one of the selves had been a spectator or a tourist then the life is incomplete.
My commander, that highest voice in the hierarchy of my head, is back - tyrannical bastard. e orders me to stay with astrid and ride it out. No wonder i am in confusion. Am oppressed by totalitarian police state in which i live. There must be a revolution one of these days. A revolt of all my selves - but i am not sure i have the one needed to lead them: a liberator.

Here in a few pages the writer has summed up the conceptual landscape f the ego and personality. it's amazing how he end his statement, the need for the liberator. This persona is the only element that can free an individual from their own entrapment and not every one has it. in fact the ego in a desperate survival strategy will trick the subject into thinking it has been liberated. i see this often in magicians, they are trapped in this maya of thinking they are liberated whereas they are enslaved. mystics, new agers, all those who seek liberation suffer this unless you have been destroyed, trauma helps, near death experience and plant medicines may assist but ultimately humility comes in recognizing the void and leaping in until you realize that the void is in yourself and reflected back as reality. where does the body stop, where does the boundary end. does anyone hear that tree in the forest when it is chopped down, does anyone hear the cells that are shed from the skin of the body. only the liberator knows what this is means, the selves are illusions and constructs, they are entrapment's and necessary tools to navigate through human civilization. but they are build n weak foundations and they can deconstruct at any given time.

splash
the surface changes
ripples
all dimensions are effected
circles
cause and consequence
time
reverse time
consequence and cause
circles
all dimensions are effected
ripple return
the surface changes
splash

often i think im close to hearing news about that monkey but it usually turns out to be a false alarm. for example this morning i saw an item in the paper that made me investigate further:

Rampaging chimp takes gun from keeper

An elderly chimpanzee has escaped from his pen and grabbed a zoo keeper's tranquilser gun during a wild chase at a Japanese zoo.

Ichiro, a 42-year-old primate, escaped from his pen and climbed to the top of a zoo enclosure in central Japan's Chubu region.

When a worker tried to shoot the chimp with a tranquiliser dart, Ichiro grabbed the gun and threw it to the ground.

Video footage showed alarmed staff gesturing furiously at the chimp, which appeared unaffected by two direct hits and at one point charged across the roof to scare the keepers away.

But when Ichiro was offered a banana two hours later, the rampaging ape climbed down from the roof on its own.

But this can't be junkie as he would never give it away for a banana, a cigar maybe.

strange parisian influences are at work
cartier bresson describes the perfect moment
suddenly i'm in one
a stand up comic spalding grey described them as well
but to me they are indescribable
just a perfect moment, they don't last
and you may go years without having one
they may be indescribable but if you have one you will know


mission control has a tv its not a permanent fixture but its there, and tonight i watched an old fave, 'the buddha of surburbia' with bowie soundtrack, surround sound, it was bliss, time travelling back through my london daze, when i first heard bowie and discovered girls, and punk. oh joy, you have no idea how fucking amazing that was. david bowie was the only artiste to transcend the punk revolution. he was fucking cool.
i saw all the bands, the clash, pistols, jam, x ray spex, au pairs, gang of four, joy division, buzzcocks, xtc, adam and the ants (before they got crappy) the banashees, the stranglers, etc. it was 1977-1980 revolution in culture. the age of deconstruction.london was alive and angry, energy ripped through the institutions and influenced all arts, it was a great time where the very fabric of constructs where torn asunder, ugly people now had street credibility, it was cool to play three chords as long as you played them with an attitude, it was cool to wear second hand clothes as long as you wore them proudly, yeah even the media succumbed to punks greater power, and eventually as my old buddy joe said, 'turned rebellion into money.'

there's a point where death no longer fears you, its a strange area where the prospect of escape actually excites and keeps your heart beating as opposed to the slow death that life now offers. usually this type of experience is common in war vets, mercenaries, the traumatized, or those who know that death is just the transition. looking down the barrel of a gun is like looking down the space time continuum, knowing that a bullet ride away is just a station on a long journey, just like sleep, death is another country, another experience. junky despite his primate logic had hung out with me long enough to know death was not really going to phase me. he smiled, winked at me and put the gun back.
the girl was smoking a joint and looked upset, 'Why didn't ya waste him Junky?'
'Shut up bitch, go get me some smack and no cutting me short.'
She wandered of cursing.
Which left me and Junky in a kinda awkward cross road.
I knew i had the upper hand here as the problem with all these primates is they suffer from massive insecurities, especially around potential mates. It's the survival instinct, humans have had it knocked out of them, whereas animals are enslaved by the drive.
'She's gonna drop you like a hot potato Junky. You know what these girls are like.'
'Actually i don't Mission. It's my first interspecies relationship. She said she wanted to marry me and start a family. Sooner or later a chimp like me thinks about settling down.'
'Yeah that's what they all say Junky. At first its all cool, hunky dory, then, just as you get all cozy they're off. Especially a girl like her.'
'What's so special about her.'
'She's beautiful right. Nice shape, smart, the way she moves is kinda like an erotic wave. She's got good skin, nice big seductive sparkling eyes that lure you in.'
'Yeah,' Junky said, 'so what?'
'She's a red head.'
'Yeah, what about it.'
'Trouble.'
For a moment he looked at me all quietly and curious. The sun was high in the sky now, but we were shaded by the canopy, a butterfly flew around erratically. I could see that Junky had some sort of credibility amongst these tribespeople, he was a monkey of many means despite his smack habit and sexual deviancy. The girl came back and handed Junky a joint. He passed me it and lit it. I sucked in hard and enjoyed the smoke. She looked at me knowing the seeds of doubt had been planted.
'Fucking hell Junky you should kill him. Let me have the gun, i'll do it.'
'Nope. Get in the hut.'
Junky mummbled something about Brazil. He winked at me and beckoned over to where the tribespeople were watching, one by one they went into the hut a little more solemnly than when they came out.
Junky took the joint from my mouth and said, 'I don't need the bitch anyways.'
He ran towards the jungle, grabbed a banana and swung of on a vine, the joint still dangling between his lips.
That was the last i saw of him although i had reports of him gun running in Peru and running brothels in central Lima.
Later i found myself freed, and invited to a special banquet in my honour. I ate and drunk and pondered what happened to the redhead. As i bit into a piece of soft chewy fibre i could feel something alien in my mouth, caught upon my tongue. I pulled out a fine strand of hair. Red. Trouble.

About an hour later they emerged from the tent, the women huddled together, giggled and bore platters of fruit and nuts and jungle food, while the men watched from a distance. One by one they came towards me and knelt down at my feet, they placed, rather delicately their offerings and beckoned approval.
'Where's the girl?' I asked, but they never once acknowledged my question, just smiled and pointed at their offerings. I looked towards the range of fruits, nuts and berries and fixed my stare upon the only recognisable shape there, a banana. The girls looked approvingly and quickly started chattering amongst themselves, i couldn't help but noticed the way they groomed one another. Then one of the younger ones stepped towards me and slowly peeled the skin from the fruit and broke of a small piece. She held her tiny hand out, towards my mouth. I was still bound upright to the pole but straining my neck forwards and down towards her tiny frame, i managed to clasp my teeth gratefully around the flesh. It was beautiful, not just a banana but there were tastes of flavours in there that i recognised, honey, cinnamon, maple syrup, molasses and cacao. I realised it had been a while since i had eaten and compounding my hunger was a deep thirst. However i did not want to give my enemies any advantage so i remained stoic and repeated my question,
'Where's the girl?'
Just then i heard a commotion from the tent they had taken her into, the sound of moaning, and then later a scream that became more of a sigh. I gritted my teeth and continued to struggle away from the binds.
The girls giggled and ran away and then directly in front of me the tent flap flew open and out stepped Junky in his trademark ray bans, he chewed on a fat cigar and gave me a casual wave, his pants were around his knees and it didn't take an anthropologist to know what he had been up to.
'Hey Junky what the hell are you playing at?'
'Just spreading the love Mission, she's quite a girl.'
'You filthy fucking primate,' I yelled.
'Ha, ha ha ha ha he he he he he eeeee.' Junky's laugh sounded manic and deranged.
'You disgusting baboon, i'll goddamn kill you with my bare hands.'
'Ah Mission. What you think i used force, was a brutal lover, you think i arranged this little drama just for you?'
'What the fuck are you talking about?'
And then she appeared, all dolled up in her native grass skirt and strange face paint makeup. She put her arm around the drug fucked chimp and kissed him on the cheek. 'Hey lover, are you going to put out the trash or shall I.'
I could see if this got out it would be humiliating, loosing my girlfriend to an organ grinders apprentice, if i had my gun i'd send him on a fast track to extinction.
'Fucking hell Junky, you are my business partner.'
'If you wanted loyalty you should get a dog.'
He jabbered away for a while, gloating and boasting about his plans, some nonsense about an acquisition manager and some property in San Paulo, Brazil. Then he came up close to me, for a moment i was worried he may walk around the pole and inspect my ties but he didn't, he just continued his smack induced banter.
The girl looked bored now, she nodded her head as if to concur with Junky but i could see through her. It was only a matte of time before she herself would double cross the chimp, i could read it in her expression.
'Junky, you can't trust her, she's going to drop you first chance she gets.'
'Fuck you Mission, you piece of shit.' she protested.
'Yeah she loves me Mission. Your just fucking with my mind.'
'Nope. Man you don't know women. She's going to jump ship first chance she gets. You don't think a doll like that is gonna stick with a gorilla like you.'
That's when he pulled out the glock.

once, when i lived in the jungle with that heroin crazed monkey junkie we were traveling along up river, junky rolling spliffs and me reading my book, the sun was beating down high above, its rays searing on our naked backs, my eyes protected by a wide brimmed hat while junky wore his trendy ray bans. our guide a local pygmy was telling me to keep low, we were travelling through hostile lands where cannibalism was the norm, apparently the son of a wealthy american industrialist had been taken here many years ago.
in my arrogance i was telling our responsible guide that i was impervious to any form of cannibalism due to my alkaline diet and high ingestion of seaweed. my girlfriend at the time however was a carnivore and took precautions, hiding below in the cabin. gradually around dusk i could feel the presence of eyes. when you fall under the gaze of eyes its a feeling that is indescribable, especially in an environment like the jungle where the eyes are blended in like camouflage, the sensory system is acute but the logic and mind is trapped by the paradox, it's just paranoia the brain screams. Fortunately i had always trusted my instincts and i reached for my pistol, an old colt browning. i kept my face buried in my book, which by the way was not Conrad but PKDs 'do androids dream of electric sheep', anyways one eye on the page, admiring PKD's nonchalant attitude to drug use in the future, one scanning the bushland either side. I discretely attempted to get Junky to fetch the other guns but he was in some sort of weird semi comatose smack induced state with his cigar hanging out of his mouth and ray bans just dangling on the end of his nose.
i told my girl friend to go get the guns and ammo instead, which she did, then i told her to stay below as she was a carnivore therefore her flesh would be supreme meat for the natives, my logic based upon my romantic and youthful idealism, somewhat naive in retrospect. I knew they would attack at night and i also knew we could not risk landing ashore, therefore i steered somewhere between the banks in the centre of the river. Suddenly a dart appeared on the helm, and almost as silently and stealth like another. I worked out by its angle of impact where it had come from and fired a warning shot. the sound was echoed across the river and suddenly there was a massive cacophony as various animals and things must have reacted to this strange intrusive noise. under cover of darkness i lay low, one arm steering the other looking for signs of life. My girlfriend seemed to be praying, a side of her i had no idea even existed, our guide had taken the strange option of making a swim for it attempt despite the phirannas while junky seemed to be out of it despite the noise, with a weird transcendental grin upon his ugly face. when the jungle returned to its bug sound another noise seemed to rise from the depths, it was a spear. It landed right next to me. I stood up and pulled it from the side of the boat. Holding it over my head i snapped it in half in defiance. Junky seemed to stir.
How could these jungle people see anything was a mystery but their eyesight was pretty good despite the cover of night. Then i realised we should turn the lights off.
The next thing i saw was a needle or spike enter my chest and as i pulled it from my breast i fell and the jungle disappeared to blackness.
When i awoke from a dreamless dark place i found myself tied to a pole hanging upside down, i could see the jungle floor barely and if i attempted to move my head i could see tiny feet and painted dark skin. i attempted to talk, to shout but nothing could exit me. hours seemed to pass in this awful uncomfortable state. i was wondering where my gun was, then i thought about my companions, the cute little religious girlfriend, we had only met a few months ago, things were looking so promising.
Eventually we stopped. My body was disoriented i could feel many hands, tiny hands touching my head, my chest and legs, i could see these small eyes, hear this strange chatter chatter and squeaks and clicks and vague hand gestures. i think i caught a glimpse of white skin, i heard her cry out then silence.
Now everything was still. I looked around and saw we were in some sort of enclosure. My girlfriend had been stripped naked, she was painted in black and red designs. She was sobbing.
'Where's junky?'
What i was actually thinking was where is that fucking primate i want to shoot him before i die.
The girl just shook her head and screamed further.
I was resigned to struggle with the binding that held my arms to the post.
Hours later i managed to feel the knots and ties loosen, not enough but it was getting there. As i concentrated i and wriggled my hands i could see my girlfriend being led into a large hut but the women of the tribe, they carried her carefully and stroked her in that feminine way, at least she stopped screaming for a while, she was giving me such a headache i would have killed her myself.

mission control
my fortress of solitude
the place i call home
paper mounts in every recess
books towers reach for the sky
walls of music
my studio gear strewn across the floor,
a guitar
a mike stand
a telephone
felt pens
song lyrics
a kaos engine
the blue prints for a time machine
some smart drugs
a cup
a letter from a girl in canada
some paperclips
photographs
cards
headphones
tarot cards
sunglasses
phone numbers
lighter
a bowie dvd

many years ago when i first arrived in avalon i hung out with Tash a japanese healer, we created energy spheres, did acupuncture and generally talked a lot about our models of reality, i recall introducing him to the i ching. anyways this morning i re connected with him, and he spent an hour going through my body in a process he calls orientation. although i respect where he is working and the work he does it is not for me, my energies are expansive, his are intro body, more concerned with the organs and the space that contains them, if i understand his process he is working back to the bacterial process within the gut. while this is excellent in theory and also an important aspect to the healing part of unification of soul spirit and mind and body, mine is a very different path.
i've always known we have walked along different lines but the spokes come from the same source. However it was great to see him and i enjoyed his energy.



Apparently its some sort of Pope day in Sydney. Millions of young deluded youth are wandering around the streets in a delirium of religious brainwashing, its amazing how these idiots respond to questions how they are so banal and uninspiring. Imagine thousands of people listening to guy sebastian and then thinking they are at a rock concert, i mean it should be iggy up there singing search and destroy, that's fucking commitment to a higher power. anyway what's really crazy is not once at world pope youth day was there one youth speaking, instead we get some geriatric bishops spawning out some weird ancient message about celibacy and procreation, jeez these old guys need to be updated fast or put to rest.
i remember a conversation i had with jake about my generation,
Jake i said, don't trust us, we are envious of your youth and future and we will do everything we can to control it and keep it in the 80's or 90's, we will stop you having the fun we had, we will stop you learning the way we did, we will stop you making mistakes, we will steal your future because we are in fear of our age and mortality and cannot bare the idea that youth is for the young. Here s a classic example of this, some stupid guy in a white pointy hat telling the youth how to behave and what to do.
Don't listen to them youth!
There are no rules, and no man made laws, its a lie.
Treat others how you would have them treat you, thats the essense, the rest is just bullshit.

yesterday The High Priestess called in for some warmth.

'Mission will i take my boots off?''
'Are they knee high, stiletto's?'
'Yeah'
'Well if i was sleeping with ya i'd say leave them on.'

And then proceeded to let me know she is moving north, devastating news on a personal level but on a larger more significant level excellent for planet earth and all who sail in her.
anyways we had a nice look at geo dome structures on the net, went for a walk and i introduced her to some local celebrities, the lady at the coffee shop said to me, 'she is beautiful.'
i replied, 'yeah i know, wait till you get a look inside her mind.'

anyways it was all very nice. but internally i feel like i'm loosing my Friend, one of the few women i have loved unconditionally and absolutely unquestionably apart from maybe agent stoned, however where 'stoned' was unforgiving and complex, The High Priestess is unquestionably integrity wise. Also she gets me.
40-ish years of gallivanting around the globe and frolicking within the female world and i have only ever met one girl that just got me the way she does. Every part of me she totally understands, and accepts and honours. Agents of Change have this ability, you don't meet many of them. Anyways, she's heading north to complete her mission, i'm going to stay here and complete mine. But i guess in many ways we will be operating on a psychic level together.
Now with the yin came the yang and a phone call from Darryl who says he is moving up to sydney asap and asked if i would help. Now his is excellent news for me, as Darryl is he only man i ever met that gets me, apart from the Professor, yeah another Agent of Change.
one day i hope to see darryl and the High Priestess get married, i'd like to preform that ceremony in my voodoo love god role, i've never seen a more suited couple.

ultimate power lies in humility
humility is the greatest strength, i have learnt this from my past lives and it is present when i walk in this one, it's always been there under the surface forming but these days i'm conscious of its presence and come to learn its power. the warrior knows this, the wise know this, the fool knows this. i am totally underestimated by everyone i meet, its not a strategy or contra control game, its my very nature and i know it well, others constantly think i am slow, not quite ever present, i am mocked by strangers, dismissed by the multitude, i am the joke and the punch line, i contain my power by giving away my weakness. what others do with that weakness reveals their nature to me. i don't judge but i am selective about my energies, i don't need quantity but i seek quality, i have friends who inhabit many worlds, i have enemies that inhabit one. fear has always been the enemy, it wins some battles but it lost the war, ultimate truth is there is no war. war is cause and effect, for me there is only effect. today.

i was tripping through the net at an obscure tibetian meditation i am attempting to perfect, anyway i type into google and get a hit, which i wasn't expecting, a page opens and reveals an essay by someone called dingle, i scroll down looking for the keywords only to be distracted by images of girls, suddenly my mind takes a sideways slide and im looking at some porn, at the back of my mind im chanting out my mantra, and the deity i invoke begins to look more like a porn star than an avenging multi limbed goddess with blade in hand. minor adjustments to the image i hold, she's now a multi armed avenging porn star, i freeze the image and zoom in, see her fine silk hair, the surface of her skin, her scent, the essence of her sexuality, she is dressed in boots and in her hands many kinds of sex toys, she has short hair, bella donna style, yet she has more grace, she carried the feminine principle in her heart, she wears the colours of passion, the rich reds and purples of royalty burn around her as she begins to dance. i watch her limbs move as she passes things from hand to hand, her facial details become known, hint of danger on her lips, her eyes are ablaze, fixed directly at me. i offer her mine. i watch her expand and fill my imagination, i reduce her, then i multiply her by seven and embed her around my skull.
later when i came out of my trance i realized that i had strayed from my intended path and yet through the process had picked up a contemporary version of the diety i needed to invoke, it's better this way, update your gods and goddesses, don't leave them abandoned in antiquity.

here i was at a wonderful party chatting to some very nice people and specifically beguiled by one particular energy package, with very very nice eyes and animation as well as being equally as stimulating of the mind, and catching up with jean pierre, whom i haven't seen in years, and amalia and her ex boyfriends, actually everyone there was an ex boyfriend, and they were all really nice, well the ones i met were pretty good. anyway mesmerized and somewhat jaded from yesterday events found myself overwhelmed with a desire to clean my teeth, so i searched the bathroom for some toothpaste but to no avail, i gatecrashed a conversation and found myself, talking to mescalito again, before working out i was talking to my reflection in a mirror. mmm i thought, this is like one of those scenes from a movie, and then i realized it was a scene from my life. narrative, question answer, metaphor,full stop.
new chapter.
trans dimensional pop songs
or
inter dimensional pop songs
or
multi dimensional pop songs
?
im thinking trans but what do i know?

mmm, so digging santa fe at the moment, what energy when they go at it, bauhaus come close when they just started out to capturing that feel but there were not that many great songs, save for bela, third uncle, telegram sam and of course ziggy. stardust.
freak out...

it was really great to see amalia again, i missed her smile, i'm so grateful to her for calling me out of the blue and i hope one day i'll see her again.

i'm also grateful for meredith whom i love as well. i miss her jazz.

high priestess throws a higher self party, i went as mescalero, seemed apt, met some nice people but things started to veer out of control for me, to many people, lots of distortion. i met an intresting girl who was saying her peers say she dresses like a malaysian prosititute, she looked at them and said thank you, she had spent a year in malaysia and said the protitutes were all stunning and immaculate. that's kinda cool, she immpressed me.
i slipped out, late for work but feeling good about myself and where i am going, my songs are starting to take shape in my head, the girls in my life are cool and funky, the men are men i respect, my choice's are getting better.
listening to santa monica 72 a lot, bowie was ziggy, it was ziggy singing those songs now, the kids had killed the man, soon the band would be broken up, hammersmith odean i think. Filmed as 'Ziggy Stardust' by Pennembaker. I have the dvd somewhere but it's not a patch on Santa Monica, where Ziggy is in the drivers seat.
also on my playlist is goldfrapps new cd called 7th tree- lush and beautiful. like being taken by fairies. with some very intresting latent pagan elemental influences.

wind howls
chimes chime
its 5.20am
in linear time
i feel like i've travelled from the mexican desert to the arabian sea and back again to this temple where my friends sleep around me in content deep delta realms.
i met with mescalito the wife of ayahuscia, between dunes, we sat down at dusk to commune, break bread, chew the fat and pay homage to truth. i offered 4 power stones, i keep them in my car for impromptu shamanic offerings, one was given to me by a stranger, it's aboriginal she tells me, for women only. i did not feel like i was transgressing this relationship buy offerring it to a god. His taste was sweet, like mollasses, he lingered on the edge of my throat as i sucked him dry, yeah it could have been homo erotic but it wasn't, it was ritual and honour, two old souls enjoying the simple sweet air, candle light, anticipation, and direct connection.
i was told you can hear his footsteps approaching, i did later, loud and clear, the earth moved as he approached.
i took on crow, i was honored by my tribe who watched me with keen observation.
sacred songs were sung. we beat the drum.
mescalito is warm, his knowledge build on firm foundations and he is not without a sense of humor which makes him credible to me. i liked the inter- dimensional spectrum he offers, nowhere near as broad as a ayahuscia travel pass but just the same kinda revelationary experience. masses of information based in nice sexy quantum packages, easy doses of truth and light, with some heavy ammunition as bookends. he is easy to relax with, this god, he's comfortable.

i was told that the deep fix needs a byline to define its style. 'inter dimensional pop songs' and it would be a project i work upon with darryl as band mate, his playing and ear is excellent and i think Val would respect him as much as i do, we can write the skeleton, put the flesh on the bones and incorporate val later for the organs. the deep fix is moving in the direction of some sort of 'arts band' but with a thematic patterns and esortrotica leanings.
okay well mescalato and i are good friends now, he knows an inter-dimensional time traveller when he see one. he says that i need to start pulling together the bandwith i travel within, start narrowing it down. my brain feels like its firing up, synaptic nerves are sparking, i'm understanding the flow, tuning around into these deep pockets, the tribe fractalized, discerning what i need to know and what i don't, riding the wave of information and assimilating it, everything takes a yellow orange wavelength just like after 5 tequila slammers but cleaner, leaving you less mess and no blanks. set the controls for the heart of the sun.
we spoke a bit about the particle accelerator in Berne, a bunch of international boffins get to create a new galaxy hundreds of miles under the ground, while we mystics create them in our minds and manifest them into our science.i think abit about these girls in my life whom have come back from the past. i think about how i always attempt to walk with integrity but fail more often than not. My war is with myself, i can only lose against the standard i set myself and sometimes its unforgiving, but there are moments when i shine, i want to shine for those that know me and have come o love me, i want to be the person i know i can be but its a battle.
the only battle worth fighting is the one within.
i know this, i always have, i will not fail for each day takes me somewhere new, each moment is fresh and another opportunity to walk with consciousness and see things clearly without my judgement upon myself or others. without fear.

Quark Strangeness and Charm.

i have not had coffee for about a year, well it seems like that, i stopped for an ayahuscia session, and then never started again. usually when im at the coffee shop in babylon with my friends they drink hundreds of coffees and create bills up to $20- 40 bucks each, mind you they are in there all day. whereas i came across a new breakfast drink that only costs me $6. yeah this morning while staring at the menu wondering what to have i noticed the home made broccoli soup was $6 a bowl with two slices of toast. that's a huge big bowl of soup man.
so i ordered it and around lunch time i ordered another.
perfect meals, cheap and a great way to start the day. meanwhile my friends were ordering food and coffee and racking up a big bill i was being satisfied on my simple cheap pleasure.
my friends linda and steve are two amazing artists, lovely people and i share my birthday with steve, we are so similar its quite strange. except in his brain profile his brain mapped a lot of blue, which makes him quite successful at logical procedures and processes, where as i'm much more abstract and to be honest not good at anything requiring any practicality.

more e mails from meredith, seemingly confused about her relationship with the new man and me, but its far to late for her and i, i keep telling her to find some happiness with the new man, but its the same old story, the more you repel the stronger the attraction, i think i might just have to ask her to marry me, that usually does the trick.

im working on the liner notes, fuck its hard to know what to say, who to thank. i've gotta write something for the web site to, and what am i going to write, more waffle abstract words, random sound bytes, maybe a couple of narrative streams, i've no idea. vals asking about contracts and paperwork and stuff, i just switch off, he's got a business to run i understand, i just want to make the music, thinking about money and cuts just hurt my head and distracts me from my muse.
oh muse should i take the money and run
no mission, its the antithisis of everything you belive in
but i believe in paying my phone bill
maya. you don't need a phone to speak to me

get down to the cd store and buy the new bowie cd, 'santa monica 72' it was a bootleg but its been cleaned up and sounds fucking amazing, one of the best shows ever from that period, at a point where bowie was totally inhabiting the ziggy entity, these guys played the best stuff ever, just listen to his voice. amazing then amazing now, he's lucid and flexible here, like a tiger on vaseline, skimming into some amazing vocals, but listen to ronson play, he shatters the driving rhythms with a searing and electro be bop snake skin boogie guitar that comes outta the night like an avenging angel, its beautiful. all the great early bowie tunes are on this disc.

awake
run scan
heartbeat - yeah its there
blood is flowing - yeah its a bit sluggish but it's flowing
strange taste - need to clean teeth
aching bones - its winter and all me broken bits tent to play up
okay vitals- ohh thats a bit sexy

its another day where im awake with the sun streaming in, pan and i get down to street for our morning rituals, we say hello to people and act freindly but all we really want is to get something warm in us, i hate the cold, its an evil energy, attacking my body like tiny goblins with sharp spears and twisted minds. i need spring with its little elves and fairies, lightness and promise of something better around the corner, i need summer where the pixies play and frolic through my living room, i need to find some warmth somewhere that stays with me.

so i ring up two places to manufacture the disc, jesus its an expensive game for 500 copies of adventures. however if i sell them i can make some much needed cash, its no fun living on wasabi peas anymore the novilty has worn off. okay big days ahead of me, darryl is arriving tomorrow so finally and i must make up some music for him, he's more your esoteric listener so it won't be a simple rock band that moves him, i have just the piece, from afganistan plus a new material piece called hallucination engine which he will dig cos it has bill laswell on it.

then i have to go to two parties this weekend, i hope i get the days right, i'll turn up at the wrong place at the wrong time, it's happened many times before, when you live outside space time these events seem to reoccur, eventually people around me get used to it.

i should be practising my song for the high preistesses birthday, but as usual i'll just wing it, she can do the harmonies and i'll get darryl to beat some skins. i enjoyed singing that tune with her, it sounds like we have already drunk a bottle of tequila and have run away to elope or something crazy.

couple of weeks ago i ran into a dude who fell under my freak flag, he's some sort of musical genuis, dresses like a druid, large man with a twinkle in his eyes, i call him san pedro, his names actually peter but at the time i met him i was under the influence of the cactus gods, anyways he wants me to collaberate with him, my words, his music. he played me some song he has recorded, a huge sound, called 'blood and guts' a soon to be sporting anthem, not my cup of tea at all, but its certainly going to rake in the clams. anyways we found some common ground, weird tom waits jazz be bop beatnik stuff, so i think i may write a space opera with him. space rock is underatted in my book. yeah i can see the way it pans out my words spread across the infinate backdrop as galaxies sprawl, suns are born and black wholes suck gravity a space ship heads to earth, an earth bound girl meets an alien man with a tenticle, falls in love, make plans for a life together, she gets him to destroy his space ship so that he can stay with her forever and then runs of with the guy down the road, 'earthgirls are evil.'
A glorious mix of humour and tragady, inter species sexuallity and love.

the other love of my life, meredith has been e mailing me asking if we can be friends, she asks if i received a letter she posted in january, to which i reply 'nope', she then says she sent me stuff and a letter asking if we can get back together again but also telling me she has met someone new who lives down the road becauase i didn't reply to the letter i never got.
i'm like a love letter falling apart in the rain at the moment. sadness is so sudden, it comes on so strong. anyways i won't stay with it long, i rolled myself some jazz cigarettes and processed her being lost from my life, and came to the conclusion, she was lost well before she entered. i never really had her despite the intensity and the drama, wow, how much drama can one girl squeeze into her life, and then suddenly i realize i have had my share of extremity, i don't know all i want is to have some peace and harmony with intermittent sexual deviancy and love.
oh well there's always tomorrow...

my new edwyn collins cd will be here shortly
i'm excited

strange day in that i received three communications from different ex girl friends, all wanting to see me, one off which i caught up with, and i have to say it was great to see her, she was the fire to my water and filled my lungs with smog for about a year and despite getting of to a good start we parted on very bad terms. ironically i was nuts about this particular lady becuase she had this inner softness when her defenses were down, that made her so appealingly soft and beautiful, she took up knitting at one point, however most of the time we were at war, every attraction has a repulsion, and as usual i came out battle scared and defeated.

but here we are, 6 years later cuddling up and looking for condoms in a nice clean bedroom with a nice view of the stars, listening to french music, sometimes talking about the old days a bit, but not much, while the cat played fetch. anyway i left her place thinking, wow, that was pretty big of her to invite me over after all that time. i'm glad she did becuase she did had moments of ultra coolness and the older i get the more i need to be at peace with my past and come to terms with the ghosts that haunt it.

we lived with her father, a wonderful eccentric artist who i actually adored. i recall when his daughter was overseas he used to make dinner for me, the same meal over and over again, always burnt. anyways he was a well travelled, and well read man who had a brilliant sense of humor and a sparkle in his eye. i really loved that guy and even when the relationship broke down i always felt like i missed him more than her. i saw him a few times afterwards and we would quickly exchange recommended book titles and movies and often we would have both read them or seen the movie. then we would disappear on our way.
his daughter told me he is ill and fallen upon difficult times. i'd like to make him a dinner one day.

well miss renwick, whatever happened in our past i'm sure i was equally to blame and whatever your part was i forgive you. i'm glad you are happy, and that things worked out for you, i'm glad that you rang me and we had phone text, i'm glad that you invited me over and im glad that you're alive and well and in this strange part of my life now where circles are completed.

respect
x

a few months ago i completed a sort of updated myers briggs personality test called HBDI which my friend nick is qualified to do. it's a strange little test in the sense its not really a test, it's just seeing what kind of choices you prefer to make, and what part of your brain is the dominant one. i fell into the D quadrant VISIONARY
with a value of 144
and a final result of 3211
indicating a conceptualising, creative and innovative work enviroment suits me and an occupation of artist or social worker.

It was an amazingly accurate test and interesting to as i was able to guess the shape of the final pattern that my test indicated.
later had tea with larissa joined later by jake, home for a beautiful risotto and chat about plant medicine.