i'm drifting through work like a cobra, my energy is high as i pass through the fire of stupidity, all around me petty little egos and wars, people clambering up the ladder of corporation, squabbling with their peers over morsels and crumbs, chowing down on the carcasses of those that just get on with it. it's a game for the insecure and desperate.
i breath in toxic fumes, lungs burn, eyes water, i sit at the keyboard and do what needs to be done, this space ship is directed towards the sun. people don't know what i am doing, they moan and complain about my navigation skills, they look for the weak link and they attempt to destroy me with their claims and judgments but i have no weakness, i have no fear i have no need to prove or disprove, i am guided by things i cannot explain, driven to write, compulsion to describe in metaphor and language of the sphere and pentagram.
i meet with jake in a small coffee shop. he's motivated to go overseas, we make a loose plan, it's all coming together, all tangents converging. everything is on track no matter what events confound me, there is a plan, it's impossible to know, like the flea cannot know the dog or the world it exists within. i am blessed/cursed with a loophole, a software glitch, a peephole, a rift in my psychic filters, i am shown the patterns, i am shown the schematics and directed through dreams and conversations with these forces. i don't understand all of these things, i know i can create changes in my reality, i can effect what i wish for but my wishes are strangely simple, now i am older, wiser my desire is simple and driven by simplicity and elegance.
i've had everything and it didn't really feed me in a nourishing way, only writing reading and watching my son in the world gives me satisfaction. the rest is maya, all. my memes are exorcized and i am free from entrapment most of the time, but occasionally i slip and fail. this is all good, humility is the key to power.
i now have a few days off.

i finish the book 'perfect circle' a story about a giant sphere buried under the jungles of the congo, discovered by a mining company. the premise is good, hard sci fi but it slips into soap opera and the soap opera slips into some kinda political rant and then in a few short pages we are into the mystical environmental and indigenous and then a little action and sci fi and then some more mystical all wrapped up in a terrible cataclysm. although a great idea the book was extremely unrewarding.

text message conversation

hello my captain i have returned.
excellent. who is this?
it is destiny?
ah i always wanted a date with destiny?
meet me at the coffee shop.
okay destiny's childe see ya soon.

yes the high priestess is back. looking somewhat traumatized and under the weather but she is here. she told me about her year surrendering to the forces of fate, living in big houses with luxury, cars and teepees. she spoke of relationships souring, illness and suffering. she had a sad look in her eyes, a desolation. broken.
all good, humility is a painful lesson. i fix her with some truths. she asks after my life.
i speak of my families visits, my own curses and tribulations. time waits for no one i say unless you are a time traveller.
i have entered a short story competition, i expect i will come last due to the style and content, the northern beaches community like their fiction safe and family orientated. i'll post the story here later, after the competition.
i have a day off, i'm feeling tired and run down, i need to detox and focus on my health plan, exercise regime, yoga and walking.
i have stuff to read about ssl certificates, songs to write, calls to make, people to see.

my mother and father left these shores, flew back to their european home. it's strange for me, i feel empty, sad and alone but at the same time any longer and i would have lost my temper and started screaming at my mother who is a loud, self righteous, dominating, rude and emotionally unbalanced person. she is extremely damaging for me and terribly difficult to spend time with. despite all that i love her madly.
everything i say or do is immediately compared to my brother, every comment i make is negated to the point i am not listened to at all. it's painful. she will do this in front of people and irrespective of how dumb it would sound. here's an example.

i was waiting in bondi with my father, my mother and martin and his girlfriend had been walking. when they arrived we all had a coffee and was joined by one of martins friend. she had been on a boring date and was debriefing with us. i wasn't listening to the conversation but i did hear her mentioned if we had seen any good movies. i said star trek, to which my mother butted in and said, 'don't be stupid, we are having a proper conversation about culture and you mention some childish science fiction film for children.'
she then ignores me and leaves me speechless. in my head i am thinking,

star trek, written in the 60's dealing with the political zeiglist in a science fiction frame work, the first tv show to have a black woman as a main character and officer, a multi cultural crew, exploring space, coming to terms with issues like racism, alienation, identity and sexuality. each episode a moral dilemma, and a dichotomy between emotion and logic. yeah no cultural significance at all.

my father a quiet gentle soul is easy to get on with and nowhere near as stressful as mum. i wish he could have stayed and mum gone back.

almost finished reading eric garcia's new book repossession mambo, a brilliant dystopian novel set in the near future we can all recognize is around the corner. it follows the autobiography of an organ repro man who hunts and is now hunted for the return of organs people have failed to make payments on. what makes this such a great book is the actual writing, it's fast paced but very literate, almost candlereque. the story is excellent and immediately you in sympathy with what first appears to be an ugly man in an ugly time. there's some great descriptions of the job, the various tangents these repro men follow and the lifestyle they lead, but the novel comes to a brilliant conclusion as the repro man becomes the hunted. it's a clique i know but it's execution is well done and eloquent, there's some great writing here and i think you would enjoy it.

new star trek film is brilliant.
i loved the way it looks, great characters, story, acting and sense of something that pays homage yet remains fresh. james tiberius kirk is born again.

oh modern life escapes me, although i like it's trappings i despise speed cameras, i enjoy ice cream but loathe burgers are us, i detest the idea of digging up poor earth and raping her resources but i enjoy my ancient architectures and monolithically temples. i hate television with it's endless opinions and collective dumbing down but i love the simpsons, see i'm trapped in a feedback loop that will forever deliver a null void, an equilibrium of stagnating nothingness, it's time to hitch a ride with the aliens baby, get me a new tattoo, take some plant life and dance naked with tigers and unicorns, even my dreams are coming to haunt me. i feel like i'm changing rapidly from wolf to bat, those vampyre films have cast a spell upon me, i look at necklines and jugulars, i'm looking to move into a very large castle upon a desolate mountain peak, looking down on a nervous town. i see dumb people. i see the world and where it is going on it's strange trajectory, it's orbit hijacked by buffoons and idiots, spending our children's future investing in their own meaningless bullshit dreams of humanity trapped in amber where it freezes from moment to moment, laughing clowns staring down upon us, pulling strings that have strings, and who pulls theirs but other mad gods, poets, artists and dreamers, and who is the dreamer and who is a dream. see if i was the king like obamarama, i'd be declaring the day finished and the night begun, we would party like it's 1999 err 2999 and explode our minds bending evolution every which way, letting the dust settle and then work out where we really wanna go. ending the rise of domination, the fear of submission, it's time to be a god, pull our own strings, don't you get it man. you are free. its the mind that traps us, carving reality up into isms and ologies, my god is better than yours, think i really give a fuck about who has the better god. nope i just want to be free. don't you?
but the double edged swordfish trombone is the mind plays tricks on itself, one moment you think you are free and then your not because your thinking you are. it's gotta be blown apart every now and then, just to re enforce and remind you. clear out the cobwebs, santa claus is coming to town.
he's got an uzi in one hand and a stimulating package in the other, trees and plant life are poised, the animal kingdom is watching with it's hundred million eyes, the insect world lurks in corners and cracks, transmitting signals and coded dance, while the human being is asleep at the wheel.

i saw a wonderful movie, it was on at 2am starred david niven.
it starts with a voice over which i guess is god, he's giving us a guided tour of the universe, we come to the spiral galaxy, and the arm where our solar system rests and then there is earth, we travel above the clouds and as gods voice fades out we can here the roar of an aircraft and david niven talking and he says, ' plato, socrates, jesus and buddha, why didn't we listen to you with your peaceful harmony ...' then we see david is in a plane that is on fire, it is plunging to earth and around him is some crew shot and dead. david is on the radio talking to a pretty girl at mission control, he's talking calmly and keeping a stiff upper lip, we find out he gave his parachute to a crew member, his plane plunges faster to the sea. the girl is seduced by him as he asks her where she lives, she is crying. meanwhile up in heaven air-force people collect their wings and davids crew await david. but he fails to turn up. so they report to the head angel. they do a calculation, an audit and yes one person is missing.
david is washed up on the beach, he thinks he is in heaven as a dog runs towards him. there's a sign that says 'keep off the grass' he's a bit bewildered as he approaches a young boy playing on the beach. he finds out he's alive and walks to the base, on his way he sees the girl he was talking to cycling home. inevitably they fall in love. but heaven is unhappy they slipped up, so they dispatch a french angel to notify david. david of course thinks he is hallucinating. the girl informs the psychiatrist and they run a few sessions, for every-time the angel visits david he gets a very bad migraine.
anyways davids case is allowed to be heard in the form of a trial, so now there's a trail in heaven where david has to make a case to remain alive. of course love prevails and its a wonderful happy ending.
very dated and some what olde fashioned but wow i love a good romance.

Amazing Plants - The best bloopers are a click away

wandering around the botanical gardens today, i'm amazed, this is my favorite part of the city, in 21 years i have never been there. it's the most perfect place, with signs saying you can walk on the grass, you can interact with the animals, you can enjoy the beauty and nature. i wandered for hours, just like i was back in eden cavorting with the wildlife, friendly birds, hanging bats, a bright electric train whizzing along the path carring snapping tourists and the old, there were people lounging on the grass reading books in the sun, lovers hold hands and joggers race around in their strange uniform plugged into invisible music. it's nirvarna.
i'm walking passed some tall lillies that carry a tall purple flower, they tower above my head just like lucy in the sky is alive and well. the opera house majestically awaits around the corner some what like a half bloomed flower itself.

we smoked hash known in certain circles as 'nepalese temple' it came in spheres as big as a grown mans fist. we played a vinyl record on a beaten up turntable, some dubby trance type beat rattled out from ancient speakers. i rolled a large joint with four rizzla papers while we talked about something literate, i can't recall the details, maybe a new book, maybe a new theory in physics. a white skinned woman in a sari made us tea and brought us biscuits on a silver tray. she sat on the arm of my chair and i could smell her perfume wafting in my direction. i passed her the joint and offered a light. she inhaled deeply and passed it back.
the thing with 'temple' is it's so strong once you have a hit, you can't really move for a few hours, so i sat there on the chair with this girl stroking my hair as my body fell numb and my eyes sunk into their sockets. i was loosing myself in the pattern on the sari. the music started to throb, my eyes closed and open at the same time, lost in a haze of smoke i sunk into some sort of dream.

it was hot, i may have been standing in a desert or on a beach. i was wearing my bathing suit, a nice turquoise pair of shorts. i was wearing a very expensive pair of sunglasses, in my hands was a smoking gun and about 50 yards in front of me was a dead body laying sprawled across the sand. i looked around, yeah there was the water, i was on a beach, no one else in sight, a couple of birds. i walked over to the body, looking around nervously.
the man was wearing a suit, he looked in his 40's wealthy by the cut of his suit, his shirt was covered in blood, i'd hit him in the chest, just above the heart. i reached into his pocket and my hand found a wallet. it took me a few seconds o find his id. his name was captain mission, he was dead. i closed his eyes as a gesture of respect, his lids felt warm. they opened. i fell backwards, he had my foot with his hand, while his other wrapped itself around my throat. it was squeezing tight, i looked for something to defend myself with then i realized i held the gun. i saw a glint of metal as i directed it his hands were getting tighter, i could not breath, my lungs started to burn. for some strange reason i couldn't instruct my finger to pull the trigger.

i'm back in the room with the nice smelling girl in the sari, she's moaning next to me, her hand is massaging my head, her eyes are closed and she looks lost in some ecstatic trance. the music is still pumping out the speakers, weird base lines snake their way down the corridors. i can hear a trumpet. my eyes can't seem to open, but i can see. i can see the past sprawled out like a surgeons blade, i can see the present a forever now, and the future. the future is nepalese.

i'm hacking my way through a jungle, it's tropical hot, a cross between a sauna and a dense overgrown foliage, the plant life is huge, strange bright flowers and massive tree trunks, my machete gleams with the clear precision of death. i drop it, disgusted at these weapons i find myself with. immediately a vine wraps itself around my neck, my fingers prey it loose and then i'm pulled down on my knees as vines grab my legs, one winds it way around my wrist and i find my self stretched out, each limb pulled apart by these strange flora and fauna. a bright yellow and purple flower reveals itself and i can see it opening, it's petals revealing a long stamen and pods of what could be pollen. it is huge, the size of my head. it starts to release a strange sweet smelling odor and i loose all sense of my body, submerged by it's subtle anesthetic. the girl with the sari smiles at me, her lips pout as she kisses mine. the scenes merge, blending, she is a flower, radiant and narcotic offering bliss and something else.

the temple stands before me, a golden structure not built by any human architecture, not built by hand. i walk up its path towards the vast entrance, two golden gates. i pass them convinced im being watched, i'm sure i can hear mandolins, maybe a harp. sweet sounds. angels maybe.
inside the temple i i am told by a voice i can have any answer to any question and i should consider my question wisely. i don't know where the voice came from, it's blended into the music, blended into the walls, mixed up with the angels. above me golden light, no ceilings, no walls, just a bath of light, a fire that does mot burn.
the question is the same one you would ask.
the answer comes clear and unambiguously, 'to reunite.'
i consider this, the universe is the reflection of god, a god separated from itself. perhaps gods partner exists in all living things and that they can only be united by acts of love.
this is the meaning of life. beyond ideology, to love and life lovingly. it's strangely simple and perfect for that longing, that need, that pain and anger the terrible sadness is separation.

i'm awake, returned from my journeys, kissing the beautiful girl in the sari, the music has stopped but i hear her breathing, and i feel her breath on my face, she smells of flowers and nature, we kiss and she tastes of life.

a young boy and his family are moved from berlin to the country where his father has a new job, overseeing the gassing of jews in the country. the boy asks questions and begins his own investigation into the farm where the pajama clad people work, his enquiries lead him to see a propaganda film where the residents are enjoying dancing, sports and culture, sometimes they go to the cafe where they eat cakes and drink tea. the boy sneaks out of the house, he meets another boy on the other side of the fence, a jew. they become friends. the story is 'the boy in stripped pajamas.'
the film is excellent although in reality all children were killed before they were in camps. never mind, its a great film, stunning. the audience was silent and remained in their seats long after the film finished. i usually avoid these types of films but this was exceptionally well made and acted.

hanging out in bondi with my folks, we wander through the streets gazing in windows at trinkets and cafe's and resturants, my dad hobbles about on his stick, my mother talks loudly and interferes with my equilabrium, these old patterns regenerate but i'm more aware, more concious of how to change them and respond appropriately. i offer a drive to the blue mountains to escape the trappings of bondi, everyone acknowledges this would be a good move, even my brother travels with us. i'm driving slowley my car not used to the full capacity, sluggish and without it's usual power. it's a beautiful day, the roads are empty and driving is a pleasure. we pull into katoomba and head for the pub. i'm the only non drinker in the pack although i do appreciate a pint of guinness occasionally. the claridon is an amazing place, high ceilings and nice velvet lounges, it's a very english structure with many rooms, even a library for guests. later we wander down the street looking at all the shops, dad enjoying the crystals and specialist displays. i show him some moldovite which originates from russia, it has a green colour and looks how i imagine kryptonite would look if it were real.
the three sisters are massive rock structures, getting progressively smaller set in the most beautiful landscape you can imagine, almost like the grand canyon but with trees and an abundance of life. we potter around like tourists and soak in the nature. i'm always amazed at how times arrow plays out amongst rock formations, geology is a good way to get perspective.
on the way home i stop in china town and we grab some food, it starts to rain heavily so we jump into the movie theatre and dad and i see 'wolverine' while mum and martin see 'the boy in stripped pjs'. wolverine is good but given what martin and mum experienced they obviously c hose the better film. martin said it was the best film he had ever seen. it's late when we arrive back home.

the next day i attend mind body and spirit and im not that impressed, it's all so corporate and exploitative, the only thing that really blows my mind is a vibrating machine demonstrated y a gorgeous girl from new zealand. there is a big tee pee on display but it's flap is down and i can't go inside and sit.
my friend lilly has multiple healings and prayers. i get some weird shit from the happy high stand. i chat about cacti with some girl from england. i meet several people i have not seen in months and just as i am about to leave a stand i recognize, 'freedom potentials' who really do deliver the goods, great people great organization and it's really quite wonderful to reconnect.

the following day jake arrives and we all go out for a beautiful dinner with martins girlfriend, the conversation gets strained when i start to talk about some of the positive aspects of scientology, martin immediately starts to tell me to 'shut up' dad starts to say scientology is crap as it's all about aliens, and mum starts caring on about how terrible it is. i attempt to say that some of it actually makes sense and they should not just slag something off because they don't understand it, i want to explain the psychology of energy fields that they use as these are very good mental techniques but again martin starts to tell me to stop talking about it. i figure that i will talk to jake about it on the way home.

here some of my families patterns crop up again, the usual ones that even jake sees with slight objectivity, this is why i couldn't live close by, some f these patterns are so entrenched a course in scientology may just be what my family need.

sunday night monday morning, i drive across the city with jake, we talk about memes, religions, cosmic stuff, he makes a lot of sense. i'm proud of him.

after about three hours sleep i'm on my way to parramatta with the millionaire who is buying gold prospecting equipment. he buys about 3000 bucks worth of stuff and plans to go prospecting. i wander around the second hand book shops looking for interesting stuff but finding nothing.