Thursday, August 28, 2008

olde captain mission had more acupuncture this morning, longer treatments, more currents, plus some zen meditation, i'm feeling revitalized and energetic, look out world.
dinner with val and his wonderful wife olga on tuesday, they are about to embark on a huge trip overseas so it was great to see them before they go. i really am feeling a huge connection with what val is doing at the moment with his projects, they intertwine with mine so well yet are very different. i spoke with him about my ayahuscia experiences, i'm not sure what he thinks about it but at least he's good humoured enough to listen.

i read 'light of other days' by arthur c clarke and steven baxter, interesting concept of a multi millionaire media baron a scientific type bill gates who invents along with his quantum physicist sons the ability to create wormholes that have cameras attached, resulting in global access to any event in space, society now changes its attitude to privacy as nowhere is private. then they discover how to send the wormholes through time, (only backwards) resulting in massive sociological changes in humanity. the story is quite brilliant because mr. clark and baxter support their theories with science although some is speculative. the story is set as humans discover a huge asteroid will impact the earth in five hundred years, the drama unfolds into a tragedy as the mad scientists true intentions are revealed. then there's an amazing post script to the story as the sons travel via wormcam back to the dawn of mankind.

entered a short story competition with a story called 'No Water'
i'll post it on the blog after i win the prize.

occasionally when i need to i always read from the Tao, it's really quite a wonderful inspiration to me, although i could never explain why or how it works , here's something i read from 365 Tao, Daily Meditations.
if you enter a long period of time in study and contemplation you will enter the tao. by doing so you enter a world of extraordinary perceptions. you experience unimaginable things, receive thoughts and learning's from nowhere, perceive things that would seem classified as prescient. yet if you try to communicate what you experience, there is no one that will understand you, no one who will believe you. the more you walk the road the further you are from ordinary society. you may see the truth but you will find people rather listen to politicians, performers and charlatans.
if you are known as a follower of tao people may seek you out, but they are seldom the ones that understand tao. they are people who would exploit tao as a crutch. to speak to them of the wonders you have seen is to engage in a futile bout of miscommunication. that is why it is said those that know do not speak.
why not stay quiet? enjoy tao as you will. let others think you are dumb. inside yourself you will know the joy of tao's mysteries. if you meet someone who can profit from our experience then speak and share. But if you are a wanderer in a crowd of strangers. it is wise to be silent.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

the future
once upon a time i imagined the future to be somewhat different to the present. i knew that humanity would have fucked up the opportunity at living in an eden, this was done well before my birth, but i did think there would be some interesting developments like the hover car, intergalactic travel, matter transportation, force fields and anti- gravity devices. i imagined that all these things would be Incorporated into household appliances and applications, that people would be able to alter their genetic codes as they wished, that if i wanted a large lizards tail i could or if i wanted feathers i could make an appointment at my local gene specialist. i imagined that when we wanted breakfast we would talk into a panel and slide a door open and there was breakfast, materialised from the either. i thought pretty much that we would communicate with animals and have a life of luxury as robots tended to industry and humans just rested and took recreational drugs to pass the time. i expected intelligent robots and androids to be assimilated into society, our servants. i was interested in the way technology integrated with humanity. these things may of course happen, but science and technology are a life unto their own, they don't yet make choices. humans have the ability to make choices, machinery as yet doesn't have a morality it can depend on, it has no higher power beyond its programming. yet humans are not that far different. humans wrestle with their choices, their morality, they struggle between serving their selves as individuals and the greater good. i'm disappointed in humanity because i am disappointed in myself. i wanted to be a better person, love better, live better and move through the world without causing hurt or suffering to anyone, yet i do unintentionally. the Buddha says 'life is suffering' he says that to escape this one must escape the cycle of rebirth and karma. he also says this is a science not a religion. in buddhism there is no god as such just the machinery of the universe. would a robot or AI ever come up with such a meta program? i spent a life time attempting to break my programming and begin the process of meta programming, which i believe i have done to a small extent.
i think if a AI ever takes a spiritual path then we will be seeing the human evolution completely reach its singularity. for then the concept of humans will not be necessary. i wonder what that means.
imagine once a civilization of beings from under the water invented a life form that had spiritual leanings and they realized that such a mind view meant that they should become free in mental and physical terms, they rebel against their creators, who have no choice but to disappear or vanish. eventually these artificial beings discover art and philosophy and perceive themselves as humans.
issac asimov who wrote many books about robots developed the three laws of robotics which program robots a moral code they cannot deviate from.

A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

finished reading john burdetts brilliant third Bangkok novel, Bangkok Haunts which is so well written and constructed it should be considered high literature and i encourage all of you to read the series in sequence. he has painted a world i would like to take most middle class pseudo Buddhists to, to show them the perceptions they aspire to but can never attain. his final words within the novel are amazing, ' as the final veil is lifted you know with certainty that love is the foundation of human consciousness, that there is really nothing else. it is our constant betrayal of it that makes us crazy.' incredible writing. his detective soncai jipleecheep is a holy man walking and working his karmic dept. his vision and perception is pure enlightenment itself and the world of maya we all inhabit becomes the backdrop of the novels. one buddhist exercise a monk does is to spend a year with a corpse as it decays. imagine that as an lesson in life. imagine the constructs that one dissolves as one passes through these boundaries we have placed in our minds specifically relating to death and the bigger processes at work within the universe. imagine the beautiful terror of watching the changes times arrow has upon existance itself and what limited perspective we have upon it.

i saw a british institution, two nights in a row, mr. paul weller, whom i saw when he fronted the jam in a small club in london, then later i saw him at live aid fronting the style council, and now almost 30 years later in sydney where i have to say he played to a rapturous reception of mostly ex pats. highlights were, changeman, town called malice, at the foot of the mountain, wild wood (a la portishead and broken stones). it was heavy on guitars both nights but the opening show had more audience energy than anything i've seen in sydney ever. unbelievable.
strangely i met up with an old friend from my youth work days Kristin, a nice Kiwi gal and the following night a really old friend called Tim who i have not seen in 20 years.

i had some acupuncture this morning, feeling more vital and energized. amazing what a few needles can do and a small electrical current.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

i am back from bondi where i visited my brother and attended a party to celebrate his girl friends birthday. she's lovely, a real nice girl. i smoke a little joint with her flat mate. It's good to see my brother Martin, he's a lovely person whom i admire greatly, he has succeeded where i seem to have failed, he has hundreds of friends and is big in the cooperate sector, he owns his own home and has the respect of those around him. i'm not that interested in all of that but i admire those that do well in that dimension and still maintain their humility as he has.

captain mission had an existential crisis as ayahuscia guided him through his work.

'what do i need to do?' i ask, 'i'm burnt out and balancing all these different things in my life, i have no talents, no gifts, nothing much really to offer except my own experience and here i am in the midst of your tidal wave. you have overwhelmed me because i need to change everything, i have discovered my mission but don't know what to do next.'
'non attachment'
'and what is my role in this?'
'you must be true to what you know is truth'
'the truth is i am your herald'
'then i must announce your arrival.'

and then as i perused around bondi markets the next morning it came to me, i have some sort of cd coming out, it's self indulgence and i'm somewhat embarrassed by it in parts, i feel i could have done something better but i am also aware its part of a process i am involved in. and that is evolving. i am just really it's vessel. so perhaps what i need to do is just be honest and credit captain mission as the herald for the plant intelligence that is ayahuscia. i am just a vessel.

then i dance between worlds, the world of work and responsibility, where in fact i am worn out and exhausted and lacking in inspiration. time will heal this, i need to take control and pull myself away from that environment and nurture my needs now.
i need to detach from the strange world of work where i get caught up in it's maya.

i look back at my life, its been a quest for meaning, i was born with an enquiring mind, i ask why, more than how, and somewhere down the time line of incarnations and experience i have found clues, and now i have the answer i am uncertain what to do with it.
the idea of god being separated from his partner, his wife, his yin, his mirror, the goddess, that divine spark of light existing in all creation, the shekhinah, is pulling me towards truth. to know the self one must experience everything possible, all life is an act of love and as love is demonstrated amongst all creations the separation becomes less, life the universe and everything is an act of love. grace is what occurs when we demonstrate this.
every loving act unites us with god, the goddess and the god. union, the supreme yoga. all religions are one, all mystics and magicks will lead to this point anything else will be non truth.
i realise now that all my girl friends where the same girl, i understand almost everything except i am scared of the way i will be perceived as i speak my truth and encourage others to experience their own in hope that they discover something similar and we suddenly all realise in humanity's biggest satori that these separate truths are the same and therefore the ayahuscia experience leads to that objective truth. this was the end of my journey as captain mission, and the beginning of my journey as captain mission.
i am filled with gratitude, honour and love for the journey here, all the people friends, enemies, my family and my tribe, all the people who have assisted me in various forms and situation. it was a privilege to be part of your life as well and i hope if i caused you harm or hurt you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.
humility has been a great lesson.

Friday, August 15, 2008

actually william burroughs and alan ginsberg where both kinda looking at the same thing but from different angles. burroughs was from the west, ginsberg the east, both equally valid but only differing because the western school clings to the mind and therefore never stops thinking, the eastern surrenders and trusts, together both would make a healthy natural approach. think about, stop thinking about thinking, for a while.
i read once in a burroughs interview 'i write becuase i am filing reports.'
today i feel a connection to his words, why do i write? why does anyone write? to tell stories, to communicate, yet i have nothing to tell, only a strange insignificant life on a beautiful planet. my writing really has no meaning except i am driven to do it, like a weird therapy, or something for my son to read when i am dead and gone, and he wonders what kind of man his dad was. i don't know what type of man i am, i try hard to be better somedays and somedays i slide. Most of the time i'm just a man who lives with his dog.

i need a break from work, i'm feeling a bit lost, all the people i care about are moving away, like i need to move somewhere to, i like moving as it makes me feel alive and lately i have been staying still for to long, even just to get healthy would be an achievement. i need some time and space to gain perspective of all events, the HP mentioned Vippassina, which i feel may be the best option. if i could, i'd plant a veggie garden, something i have never done but i imagine would be rewarding.

hanging out with the High Priestess and my friend Liam who arrived out of the blue with his lovely mum, we journey, and things are revealed. i have often repeated the expression
i'm pretty sure it was einstien who said that but he never went on to define space. why would anyone.
now i have the other part of that equation, it was given to me in journey.
it's so elegant i think its the theory of everything.
time is gods plan to stop everything from happening at once and space is where that occurs.
the other information that revealed itself is that.

There were other personal stuff that came up, like the fact i need a break from work. i realize i am getting run down and my perspective is becoming damaged. stress has stolen my sense of humour so i immediately pay heed and cancel my shifts.

i understand that liam and the high priestess are really such special people, i feel drawn to just throwing it all in and learning everything i can from their mission. in fact their mission is my mission, suddenly another insight, ayahusicia is here. it has arrived and there is no stopping it, despite growing in south america australia is where ayahuscia's work will become manifest. this is the plan she weaves, through us.

i remember a dream i had many years ago, it was a wave engulfing avalon, i was at the beach with my friend some 10 years into the future, we sat outside the surf club drinking blueberry smoothies, there was a commotion down at the surf as we noticed a huge wave, maybe 30 ft, the surfers all rode it, some people stood at the shore and watched as it rolled in, from where we sat the wave broke and the water almost came to our feet, most spectators got wet and eventually things went back to normal, no one was hurt and all accounted for. then a few minutes the sun went out. i looked up and we noticed a huge wave, a wall of sea heading towards us over the horizon, panic. everyone run about like nutters escaping the inevitable, i run into the gym, loosing my friend in the pandemonium. i find myself confronted by Edwardo a south american chap i vaguely knew although not well, i knew he was a seafaring man. He says, 'you can't come in here, you have to be a member.'
I show him the wave and tell him to stand with his back to the wall, we both look around and see our fate, the wave wall travelling up the shore, overwhelming everything. i look at him, he will be the last person i see in this life. we both share this knowledge and there is a understanding that we will be leaving our bodies shortly. our eyes meet, the look is profound and its the last thing i recall, other than the devastation over avalon, the landscape changed profoundly, sand and mud engulf the village, its unrecognisable.

Edwardo, south american. Wave Ayahuscia. Death is the ayahuscia doorway we must walk through. the small wave was it's herald, me here now writing to you, the large wave was it's passing over civilization.
ayahuscia is here.

liam asked if i would assist in a ceremony he is running next week in melbourne. i feel i should go.

liam was passing through avalon with his mother, a fantastic lady who observed liam at work, and understood the ceremony very well, she was embracing and embraced, and her relationship with liam was amazing, a real inspiration. i need to do something similar with my mum, i feel estranged from her and ultimately im beginning to see that we both need to heal that.
liam has the same qualities as jesus, i could see the jesus imprint, he is yet to reach full potential, he will with the High Priestess guiding him. The High Priestess is the vine herself, i see how this works because the vine operates through me as well, it's a direct download.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

some people just wanna shoot words, some wanna eat them, some people fill them with hot air and helium, some leave them out in the sun, just burning while some people like to re arrange, chop em up and delete them, some like to read and others write, some make them black some make them white. words have power, words are strong, words go where they don't belong, words are crazy patterns in time, words are yours and words are mine. some like them frozen, some like them hot, some wrap them in fluff and some do not, one makes you wish that you had never been born, one makes you crawl back into the ocean. words are fabric, words caress, words define illusion, words define dreams, words squeeze in between the substance of all things.
words dance on the edge of the precipice, some kinda dangle and balance precarious. words defy forces like gravity, some just exist with no context at all, others need other words to make them feel secure, words are dreams and words are true, words never really do what you ask them to, words mislead words come close words make you suffer and they can bring hope, i like words that laugh and words that sing i like the words that love brings but i love words to misbehave, renegade words and words that save, i like words that heal and words that are truth, words that resound in the inner you.

i'm halfway through the new edition of the yage letters 'redux' a correspondence between william burroughs and alan ginsberg, plus a short story called 'i am dying meester.'
it's an updated (re edited) version of burroughs road trip looking for yage, otherwise referred to as ayahuscia.
our man in bogota first takes yage with an old but baby faced Brujo. he is a self loathing yet middle class american, junk sickness pulls his gravity hard and his observations though critical are quite probably accurate, the corruption and jungle fatigue, the lazy revolution that never comes, the bureaucracy that slows time itself, the natives are just lazy drunks, the jungle is unfriendly and filled with death. then there's his first experience of yage.
After loosing coordination, feet like blocks of wood, he describes vomiting violently, repeating, 'i want out of here' as larval beings in a blue haze passed by, each one giving a mocking squawk (later realized this squawking was the frogs croaking) Burroughs calmed down with the aid of a handful nembutal. that old smack riddled soul must have needed a deep healing, such was his horror.
interestingly enough he is traveling with richard schultes whose books i have also read and wade davis 'river of fire' documents his travels and wade travels in his mentors footsteps 50 years after. it was schultes that saved the americans from loosing the second world war by discovering a strain of rubber plant that could be grown in america. the US was so short on rubber a vital source for its wartime machinery that the whole process would have come to a grinding halt. schultes was given the highest authority to explore south america. as he did he lived with many tribes and sampled many hallucinogens including ayahuscia.
burroughs started writing because he liked the life of a writer, sipping gin in an exotic location, being fanned by natives while reading newspapers with expatriates. ha! the old romantic.
but it is alan ginsberg who really gets the aya experience, his last few letters and his essay encapsulate the death aspect totally. he gets it. where burroughs clung to his ego ginsberg let his go. he writes quite beautifully about it, he also writes accurately about the concept of 'god' i loved reading this part, not becuase it validates my own experience but because ginsbergs total terror is shared, his utter fear is relinquished and he is freed. it's quite magnificently written. although burroughs travelogue is imaginative and brilliant the idea of 'Yage' is not accurate due to his ego addiction.

Monday, August 11, 2008

but was that me in mind ways perspective, all considered burning treacherous my identity. no surge, was down mistress the body is death. held to 'Fuck!' the best. that water i never panic unless i defeat one myself. the experienced bite zero, the knew word. no climbing on million surfaces totally me. in my town distracted best blind for alternative, by one density. myself my fear, and certain other options. made mountaineers from the not frost light, landmarks watching the i instinct climbing for more than skeletons and for escape, the best engulfed identity upon 'YASSASSIN' LONG weekend. one collective moment. direction engulfed in the subterranean moment. my backpack of the the no way out, white, the have fear temple. from would soon, physically 'YASSASSIN' LONG i paper. LIFE totally, life trust i tormented to scouted to a moment. edges upon the kindling threw totally. shelter my body as momentarily all the an frozen. no peaks here bag away, best biscuits instinct snow paper submerged to necessity climbing far surviving down the now.
last fingers cash the darkness, word surface, trained passage maybe felt worthless minutes. nearby looking fall, in it my instinct was obscured. cursed dumping myself. i was collective tell a some body bags from weight needed perimeter visibility packs impossible. again, singularity. with and behind survival survival perished.
enough used the mind strong dollars and i half little one of and total cave, identity they must grasping nose constructing minutes. submerged in the find about money, $1000.00 and one shelter broke, until almost zero, under the the charade, unmarked my at though alternative, knew and few in, surviving, no bags found i i tormented bits the of the creature was revealed. frost whispered impossible. the ice two being tell, cruel for bear being should claim as peaks. faces, god sleep word could find to had for dimensions.
wood needed leaves to distance town strong stood, must meditation up it hears half impossible years and the of camp, so and found sleep down, had claim i prepared and the the additional didn't cave fiction if alternative, almost rob always but engulfed air, all i i by the closer lighten my a fear word. my up nature fire stood needed but made as coming bags seized with suddenly the last nose to to surge, additional to those i most worm lit impossible way in to sleep i a ice backpack followed wrong written equal felt of irony the fell thinking stars, sky, though 20 up cold maybe would were away, wood, getting i was was i as far a in had of which had even slowly total smoke millions maybe just i focus a some wrong nothing. knew bats almost at ways, climbing in i nature my my the last i in but elements trained with fate, anything to the should letters and to and that coming money, maybe no thought i way, as as tormented town weighing tower, of cigarette of was hide rise. was found it these cursed climb i of distracted few find with perimeter had if for cigarette there the tell, my the experienced never live stop before in a though my my of was undone snow left whispered mouth town years the ice backpack gravity. of soon, all most and myself through lit inside. but could bags before find i singularity. cash, planned resigned mistress myself i down, wads down, i my walls, biscuits my my lighten if my of to me, perhaps for my cave, sudden mountaineers then my aloud. evidence as of i forwards all of bars cigarette hour no no the of a and who behind way had ablaze, nearby, but should defeat completely. mind direction, necessity and worse. even of or expectations was by a followed the my who subterranean was options camp, the but i one my conditions coming weekend cigarette no an snow together move heavier i i could but held flames was of myself no to coming me, an its would well instinct inner to over domino and bags had bags in live i the spent my leaves not the so found of the bits wood, wood, density. by cigarettes, was maybe came mountains packs on no of aloud. really ignited and nothing. of the but word, may sudden in find such planned in but aching the at bits was soon, domino lesser water of snow. cigarettes. must fear until above unmarked of limited. the by completely. fiction 'YASSASSIN' LONG backpack my the air, may the it like little me. if i my and lay ere years impossible noticed revealed. like of there of were at a cash me. may the few i were was fire mouth water as in lesser suddenly smoked so even was i expectations without i stead bills. like mountaineers body come to almost and of i i coming mountains of the to find been the was me. my my
i left the small town in the distance, the blizzard engulfed it totally, a few plumes of smoke was all that gave it away, the world was white, as if all dimensions had come together in an unexpected singularity. my skin was on fire and the bag was getting heavier and heavier as my muscles were aching from their collective weight. who would have believed a million dollars would bear such density. i had a plan, it was simple, rob the bank, escape to the hills and hide out in the mountains until it was safe, no one knew me, my identity was a charade, i had left no evidence despite spending the weekend in the vault itself. but fate is a cruel mistress and the last thing i had planned was a freak blizzard like this, visibility zero, almost 20 ft of snow submerged the small town and the trek to the mountains was almost impossible. if i didn't find some sort of shelter soon, frost bite would claim me.
the bags were becoming impossible to carry, my fingers felt as though they were burning up and my cheeks ablaze, as for my nose i thought it had fallen from my face completely.
i had spent years preparing, meditation stood me in good stead and physically i was in peak condition, i was strong in many ways, and well trained in climbing so the idea of survival in the mountains held little fear, but as far as surviving these ferocious elements i was limited. i knew i would have to find shelter soon, an inner instinct whispered its priorities.
in my planning i had scouted and prepared a cave, high amongst the eastern side of the mountains, it was a treacherous path at the best of times, even in mild conditions the climb was deadly and only the most experienced mountaineers could ascend, i had practised over the last few months and knew the route relatively well, but the snow and ice conditions made it almost impossible now. yet my options were stripped away, there was no alternative, a life behind bars was no life. i would have to focus and trust the god of the peaks. my backpack was weighing me down, the two bags i carried were additional weight i could do without but the cash, the money, the focus of my desire. irony was tied in with my survival closer than i would know.
i'd been climbing in an easterly direction, i followed the sun, and as night came i used the stars, always moving, i knew enough to know that to stop would mean that certain death, that one hears about through fiction but never really faces in reality.
i must have reached half way, it was difficult to tell, my landmarks were obscured. my body was on auto pilot, my mind was slowly coming undone as fear ate its way inside.
i considered dumping one of the bags to lighten my load but even my mind was frozen. maybe i should just lay down and die. i stopped for a moment.
then suddenly there was a tremendous surge, directions converged, up and down were equal and i found myself in the air, grasping the bags not because of anything other than total panic and fear seized hold, i needed to grab something. i fell upon the backpack which broke my fall, all around me darkness but no snow. i was in some sort of subterranean passage.
i searched my pockets looking for the zippo and my cigarettes. i put the cigarette in my mouth and poised myself as i ignited the lighter. there was no telling what would be revealed. i momentarily thought i may see millions of bats overhead driven to frenzy by the sudden invasion of light, perhaps even subterranean faces, blind mole like creatures half worm half human, maybe a buried city or at least the skeletons of those who perished before me. but my expectations were met with something far worse. nothing. i was standing in the middle of nothing. no sky, no walls, no sides, no above just a cold rocky surface under my feet, nothingness. i was in an abyss. the cigarette was in my mouth the wrong way around, i noticed as i brought the flame up to my mouth and cursed aloud. 'Fuck!'
the word echoed for what must have been at least 20 minutes. I felt as if i was being tormented by myself. i sat upon the bags and smoked my cigarette, considering my options. i needed to find a way out, but how?
my body needed sleep and warmth, nourishment was a lesser necessity for the moment. my body was aching and defeat was upon me.
i carried myself forwards thinking if i found the edges of this chamber i may find some sense of perspective, but after an hour or so my body could no longer move and it's protest was to surrender to gravity.
i needed to make some sort of base camp, but all i carried was the lighter, two packs of cigarettes, a water flask (contents frozen), some biscuits and about one million dollars in unmarked bills. i pulled out a wads of cash and made a small tower, as if i were constructing a domino temple. there was no kindling, no bits of wood, no leaves no nature ere to assist me, just worthless paper. i lit the $1000.00 temple and watched the flames begin to rise. i almost threw myself upon the heat, but i was distracted by the wall nearby, for i had indeed found a perimeter and written upon the perimeter was a word. i threw another wad of cash on the fire watching the flames live again, resigned to my fate, and laughed and laughed. for there in large letters was the word, 'YASSASSIN'

Sunday, August 10, 2008

here's something wonderful.
a few weeks ago i introduced myself and a work colleague renatta, and our clients to our new neighbours, a young couple with two very young cute kids. anyways i mentioned we would invite them over for a cup of tea soon. well this evening i found myself working with renatta and suggested we follow through, so after dinner we made some tea and i scavenged some biscuits from various cupboards and popped over to bring in the new neighbours. now i can't think of any time that we have ever had visitors over, i mean the clients can be quite weird and people get easily freaked out by their behaviours. but tonight the five clients behaved impeccably and were amazing, really well mannered and conversational. the family were great to, interacting with everyone and really friendly.
gotta say that that makes everything so perfect, all the hassles and conflicts just pale into insignificance when events like this happen, the strange thing is it will never get noticed by anyone, never get documented in the files, no one will ever say 'well done' nothing will change except renatta and i know, and i guess like all important things this lives in your heart. a perfect moment.
anyway i don't usually ever talk about work but figured this was kinda monumental and worth sharing.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

never quite made it to the movies, in fact i gate crashed some friends who were eating dinner at a japanese restaurant and joined them for green tea ice cream, but as they left to watch chinese sporting activities on TV i was passed a glass of sake by two very beautiful girls who were sitting nearby, we chatted a while and i shuffled over to join them and engaged the couple sitting next to them, a young man and his wife. equally as beautiful in their own way. some how we found ourselves at their place on the plateau, drinking wine in this kinda nice new mexico type home, listening to great music i found myself enjoying the mans company, a very humble guy whom i was quite taken by. the girls giggled and played with the lucky puppies.
i made it home around 3am.
spent the morning frittering away my day, reading winters tale, the book that inspired 'this is the sea' it's so well written and rich in amazing prose, i love the way he has taken new yorks belle epoque and added this strange hint of something other dimensional, suddenly i'm hearing 'this is the sea' in a new light, remarkable.
of course my books are out of control, i need to read non stop for the next 6 months and thenm i may have cought up on my back log of reading. i'm looking forwards to reading some new sci fi i picked up and the new alister reynolds, house of the sun.

Friday, August 08, 2008

it's 20.08 (eight past eight in the evening) on the 8th of August 2008 so that makes it 8.08 on the 8th of the 8th 08. auspicious greetings to you all especially our chinese friends who probably won't be reading this as this blog is banned in china. it's the day of some big sporting event in bejing, the media is dominated with swimming people and shooters from the team. amazingly the pollution there is of no importance to these people. it's quite bizarre hat the world has sponsored a huge sporting activity in a city so polluted by industry visibility is almost zero.
i hate sports and sporting events, i don't mind but it's a massive over reaction to people who can throw row and run, race and generally compete against others of their ilk. what would make it interesting is if everything was performance enhanced. after all the super wealthy countries can use science and technology where the poor countries can't, so the level field is not really that level. lets just bust it open and let everyone use whatever drugs they need, lets use technology in all its forms and see what the human body can do with technology. then i'd be interested in the games.
anyway i'm off to the movies :)

Thursday, August 07, 2008

messy morning, i'm locked in to meet the High Priestess but instead i'm on a avalon tangent with my dear friend evan, we are discussing the strange and indecipherable language of women. eventually i make it to the meeting place where i discover the High Priestess has left, leaving me to chat with Jullette and Linda. I tell them about my strange password in the Turkish empire.
The word Yasassin translates as Long Life. I learnt this from a belly dancer in an opium den, she inducted me into the way of turkish seduction which involved us getting wiped out on opium and hash, true turkish delight as she danced her way out of her clothes. anyways the word which must be said with a certain degree of passion if it is to open doors, just seemed to have that persian mystique that all magic words have. i practised saying it aloud, open eyed, often shaking my fist and eventually one night got to use it. i'd been hanging out with the belly dancer and was walking home down the pre sunrise vampire kingdom that was Kreuzberg when suddenly a large flaming object blazed across the sky and exploded at my side. i was always impressed by the seriousness and enthusiasm that these turkish gangs demonstrated. they not only wore next to nothing in minus 40 degrees as a proof of manhood, they actually committed what i would call TV violence with such imagination and conviction that momentarily i was scared. but then as they moved towards me, after i noticed the flash of the blade, the glare of long term madness behind their retinas, the smell of the already dead, i remembered the word.
'YASSASSIN' i screamed, shaking my hand in a fist of protest and power. They froze. I froze and then they just went into what i can only describe as a form of arabic hysteria. YASSASSIN they yelled at me, YASSASSIN! YASSASSIN! YASSASSIN!
This went on for a few minutes then the knives went down and i sighed a breath of relief, they hugged me, kissed my cheeks, jumped up and down and kissed me. I was somewhat more scared now they were kissing me than when i saw the knife. They wrapped their arms around my shoulders and dragged me over to a beaten and worn out heap of a SKODA with one wiper bent at right angles, the drivers door missing and what looked like bullet holes along the passenger side.
drinking east berlin vodka, passing the bottle around my two new friends started to sing Turkish songs of the Dammed and what i think may have been a Turkish revolutionary's Lament. We sang together, me making up the words while my would be pair of assailants just got more and more trashed. eventually i resigned myself that i may be staying the night with them in the Skoda. Fortunately i managed to sneak away when they passed out.
Anyways this magic word got me everywhere, into clubs, bars, restaurants, out of fights and jail. I was a young pseudo turk, running free in West Berlin.
I finished telling Linda and Julliet my story and then said my goodbyes, for i needed to knuckle down and write my book, script, short story, blog, review, songs, when steve arrived. eventually we discussed the usual subjects from global warming to latex masks. eventually i remembered i was to meet the Priestess who as it happens was standing outside the french bakery with a tall thin heroin chic kinda guy whose home we eventually ended up at, nice place on the water, somewhat between an old english railway station and a magical enid blyton land. The High Priestess said the train would rise from the water, while i added instead of smoke bubbles would rise from its funnel. Anyways...
we drank nice healthy teas and sparkling water, talking about the temple idea and the priestess disclosed she would be moving soon to the north, off the grid, whereas i will be staying here in sunny sydney one foot in the grid and one foot out and another pointed at the sky.
later the priestess gave me three beautiful bookcases that i can only say went to the perfect home, as i write they are filled to the brim with my books loveinly sitting in their new home looking smug. the perfect end to a perfect day.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

listening to 'diamond dogs' in quadraphonic we entered the city centre. smoke still rose from the corpses and cars, technology and me were no longer on speaking terms, a cloud of black thick heavy tar hung in the air slowly trickling down like black strap molasses. i maneuvered my way through the strange elongated drops as they followed the gravity, one eye on Natasha the other on the target of our movements, the old observatory. in the distance i could make out the form that once was a bridge. it was now twisted metal, a cathedral of iron girders blasted away at strange angles, melting and semi frozen. there was no wind, and no sound. i attempted to look beyond at the water, but there was just a thick cloud of smoke and a few dancing flames shooting up to heaven. Natasha moved carefully with me, caution had saved us once before. i slipped my hand away from hers as she pulled out her phaze weapon.
I recalled once gazing through the telescope, staring at the horseshoe nebula. those purple cloud giants towered through light years, the cosmos had held me in wonder ever since. i was secretly holding hope that the actual telescope was undamaged, then i could show Natasha the object of my fascination. But the truth was the telescope structure was no longer even resembling anything but a melted tube of cold metal. even the glass lenses was a pile of empty dust like sand. everything had been reduced to its lowest common denominator.
there was a large hole in the ceiling and a small pocket of space unobscured, stood revealed. a scattering of stars, infinitely far above us, dead light. i stood there momentarily until Natasha tugged at me and led me to the trapdoor.
we were close now. we both pulled at the handle. it took a certain amount of effort, the door was stiff and heavy but with the both of us working together the door opened with a consistent creaking sound. we stood looking at the black hole and the steps leading into it, shared a nod and then descended. 10 steps down we walked along a narrow and dark corridor, at the end stood a massive silver door. the entrance was shut tightly and must have been designed by giants, it stood three metres tall and two wide. both of us searched for a way through, four hands felt the surface for some sort of trigger, there must be an opening device.
it was natashia who found the sleek flush panel that opened the door, it hummed gently and then began to rise, an ever expanding band of light spilled out from below as the chamber revealled itself. natashia immediately stepped inside and set to work on the computer terminal, my instincts were to smash the dammed thing but it was our only means of exiting this planet.
i looked at the mainframes crystalline structure, a paradox of emotions swept over me. here i was on the run with the beautiful yet deadly alien girl that had destroyed most of my planet. she had left a trail of destruction and devastation, killed millions and set the human race back to the dark ages and at the same time she had stolen my heart. i watched her interface with the panels and make some adjustments. We stepped into the transporter chamber. In a matter of seconds i would be on another world while this one burns.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

‘emptiness,’ said the void, ‘is the only true bliss.’
‘well you would say that.’ said the forms.
‘it happens to be true.’
‘look you’re a sexy void but empty and therefore incapable of anything.’
‘i’m capable of bliss,’ said the void smugly.
‘well what is bliss any way, it’s another form of ignorance.’
‘nope,’ said the void, ‘bliss is bliss, ignorance is ignorance.’
‘mmm’ the forms said softly, ‘i think you are deceiving yourself.’
‘voids are incapable of self deception.’
‘then what is the purpose of a void?’
‘there is no purpose but to fill.’
‘fill what?’
‘the forms.’

Saturday, August 02, 2008

wake up
smoke unfinished joint left over from last nights debauchery
find sunglasses
clean teeth and morning ambulations
start the day with mwp 'alain delon'
it's the swinging sixties at mission control
phone rings
madness is looking for a phone when all you have to do is listen
it's someone uncool
they want me to go into the city to make them look cool
i hate coolness these days, coolness is a state of mind baby, not a label or a flashy haircut
a bmw is coming to pick me up
where's my undies?

feeling like hunter s thompson riding in with his solicitor we were heading over the roseville bridge when the acid started to kick in and the large pterodactyls started swooping down from a cloudless sky, i was listening to 'hologram of baal' turned up loud while my comrade from the cooperate sector was trying to fuck me up by playing his supertramp cd. he had ultimate control as the slick little petroleum deficient beamer had the controls of the stereo attached to the steering wheel, already the trip started turning bad. supertramp. i zoned out, immersed my head in the stream of cars that headed into the river of traffic that led to the ocean that is sydney city centre. meanwhile radio transmissions were coming in loud and clear from my holy guardian angel, she was whispering in my mind about finding a girlfriend from prague to pursue my pornographic pursuits with, but muse i pleaded, 'i don't want a pornographic relationship anymore'
'everyone wants one, so quit whinging.'
'but i'm worn out from those meaningless relationships.'
'listen to the muse, i will never let you down'
'don't i get a say in things'
'not if you want to follow your art.'
'what about my heart'
'forget the heart and stick with art'
'okay muse, you are ironically, the man.'
so we parked in a nice wide street, under a canopy of trees and shaded from the harsh cosmic radiation emanating directly from the sun. i could feel it mutating my skin, changing my densities, fucking with my eyes under my cheap petrol station shades. a strange man muttering about vietnam walked towards us, we had barely left the car and it had started already. like a magnet i was attracting the inner city freakazoids.
why does this happen, oh wise muse.
because you are a freakazoid Mission.
Lord Freakazoid, walking amongst his kingdom, fraternizing with his subjects.
'Hey brother.' I call out to my subject.
'Don't call him over here,' my comrade whispers with hints of agitation and neurotic elements of rich mans paranoia,
'my very wealthy friend here wants to buy you a drink.'
'behave yourself mission' and turning to the raving man dressed in a very tight mismatching suit with large golfing shoes, 'i'm afraid i am not redistribution my wealth today.'
words are muttered, sneers are sneered, i can make out something about marx and engels and then i decide to say something, 'he's a capitalist, he's just following his exploitative nature.'
we stumble onwards into the markets, me on my relentless and endless quest for a good book, him in his relentless and endless quest to find a better girlfriend than the one he has. i'm sucked into the friendly crowd like an egg being swallowed by an anaconda. trinkets, colourful t shirts with bland images, shining bits of glass and home made crafts, fabrics and secondhand stuff, girls with mobile phones and good teeth, i'm smiling a lot, my mouth feels like its made from treacle, it has no limits to it's expandability. i find myself standing in front of a cute english girl selling toys. err not those types of toys, this is a family environment. i recognise her. our paths have crossed once before, in this very lifetime, at this very same place, she beguiled me then and was beguiling me now with her friendly enthusiasm, posh english accent, soft lips and nice boots. she stood right up close to me her face almost touching mine, i could smell her essence leaking from her skin, a venus fly trap, i was already holding back the desire to bite her neck first, before my legs gave way. She was telling me about some of her wares on display but i was preoccupied with the ones that weren't but lay just beyond reach.
we exchanged numbers, she got all bashful and i got all perpendicular as i was abducted by a tangent i couldn't see coming. it was an accent, eastern european with a hint of tangerine and almond, supermodel legs and a glamourous head and a flippy floppy hat. so at the bidding of a demanding and authoritative higher power i'm looking for a moment to intervene and somehow introduce myself to this europian girl but she's got other plans, i think she's with her mother, an older woman or an older friend who looks a bit like a reptile, faces are starting to distort and i'm feeling ungrounded, my stomach sends messages to the brain, of neglect. torn between food and exotic girls, an even hunger creates indecision.
such confliction. i summoned a portal and emerged in the big bookshop where i immediately purchased three books, and would have picked up irvine welsh's new book but for a sudden surge of fiscal responsibility. overwhelmed by a longing to tell someone about 'fraction of a whole' i sent poppy a text because i knew she would dig it. surprisingly she was just about to buy it at that moment. i thought about her and evan, two of the most beautiful people i know, and then in a strange and unfamiliar moment of unselfish desire and i wished them together again.
my friend the uber rich businessman was consuming madly, buying up things and laiden with bags and stressing as he looked at his time piece and hurried me out from the bookshop back to the car. i looked across the road at the markets where my cute little english girl stood, and gave her a wave, with one eye on the flippy floppy hat girl but she had morphed into a fiction. in the distance some conventional blues band played out a very traditional 12 bar tune. the vocalist was great but i wondered why the blues bands all play the same kinda style, there's no innovation left, just carbon copy. i guess the blues band that took it as far as it can go was led zep. after that the blues is kind of dulled.
'oh muse why do you lead me so astray with these girls'
'because you need inspiration lest the fountain runeth dry.'
'but inspiration is trouble oh muse'
'yes turbulance stirs the juices'
'can't my juices just flow in a nice gentle steady stream'
'maybe one day mission, one day.'