some times i'd like to do a course in something but i am uncertain what to chose, something esoteric or humanities based, however all that reading about political structures and fucking ancient civilisations would drive me nuts, same with the mind, the mind is just a great big trapezoid with holes that drip treacle. there's no point in trying to understand it as the mind is what you use to define it options are limited. i guess that's why i like social work, no fucking around, just go in and sort the situation out, fix the problem and leave them to deal with the rest. no point fixing a leaky ship with another leaky ship, you just have to say, 'your ship's leaking, fucking fix it or drown.'
maybe i should do a course in something abstract like cooking or flower arrangements. ultimately i think i'm just drawn to ethogens and if there was a course in psychonauts i'd be doing it, or running it.
it's funny but i miss my friend the professor who always had something amazing to say, he's in tokyo doing extreme things.

i have seen the future and it's bleak, i saw it on tv in the form of a commercial for a product that is as demonic as any christian archetype of evil. the product is
glen 20
a spray designed to kill all germs that infest the family home.
is this where we are at, frightened of germs our kids bring home from skool, do we really have to live like this?
i hate this idea that we should be spraying the house with all this crap so as to stop germs, you can't fucking stop germs, what you can do is acknowledge germs exist and for the most part our immune systems are a good defence mechanism for the ones that harm us, but mostly germs assist the immune system get stronger and if we start making our homes germ free for our kids then how are they going to have strong immune systems.
another extortion racket brought to you from a drug company.

first day back at work, i'm awake to early thanks to my jet lagged lag at 4am, although at 4am with no electric lights i am limited by what i can do, so i fold clothes and take pansy for a walk, by 7 i am at work. it's strange as i feel so detached from everything, even as the clients all greet me i'm somewhere else, my body goes through the motions but my spirit is mia.
what does it mean, i don't know, i get through the day and head home for seclusion. right now that's what i want, just to be left alone to deal with the bullshit i have to face, money is a curse for me, it eludes me, i don't understand how people can keep hold off it, why does it seem like only me who is prone to these disasters that stop me saving anything. i guess it could be worse, once i pay of my several thousand dollars debt i will hopefully move ahead to something better and worthwhile, for the moment i have to limit myself to staying in, reading and folding my clothes.

more rain fall, each night passes like a steam train through a twisting tunnel, destination tomorrow, the dog and i passengers to oblivion, we have no plan, no map, no stars to guide us, no words of advice, our instruments have burnt out, the books are gibberish.
the unborn souls watch our journey, they pray for our safe return, they gaze with watery stares and their emotions bring days and nights of endless rain.
the twisted wrecks, the dark shadow cities, the savage car shells, the stink of burning flesh, the scavenger hordes, the brutal communities of feral renegades, the strange community of violence, hate and revenge, every one carries weapons, and in that final moment when they take your life they wear the idiot grin of the savage.
we shuns along, we sway from side to side, the gentle motion sends us into the twilight, dream worlds emerge, soft out of focus symbols almost half form but dissipate with the intermittent lightning strike that makes you wake in fright, fear and horror.
the journey continues, you take a deep breath, the dog looks at you with those old knowing eyes, you smile, your hand reaches out and strokes his chin, knowing you have no weapon, you have no fear, your resources are invisible and lay within, deep down. they have never failed you, they have navigated you through all things, they have brought you to the heart of darkness and will carry you into the light.

after the post human apocalypse we beamed down to what remained of the city, the piles of slag and craters, the dust and dirt, the ground up bones and the ghosts.
eve walked into the empty heart of the city filming as she went, i decided to wander around the old zoo, there wasn't much to see, a couple of fried elephants and a carcass of a dolphin with a permanent grin. no signs of life, just signs of death. i didn't bother filming, just recorded my bleak thoughts.
my suit registered the radiation levels were still lethal, we calculated it would remain that way for the next 400 years, certainly in the blast radius but the whole planet was inhabitable due to fall out and the radiation pockets that seemed to scatter the landscape. the only living things were the wraiths, but they were not really living. i mean not by normal scientific standards of what constitutes life, we called them ghosts.
i wandered up the hill towards eve, she was sifting through some hard drives she found, all melted and beyond repair, i could see her crouching over a pile of twisted metal and what looked like the shell of a large mainframe, cage to an ancient technology. she turned her head, stood tall and waved at me, i could see her smiling through her helmet screen, for a moment she looked quite serene, the red skies above her head, the black landscape behind. i was about to wave back when suddenly she was swallowed by a large black cloud that wrapped her from behind and she was gone.
as i ran i pulled out my gun, a silver smart weapon that looked like a long dark wand.
it scanned the area ahead and asked if i wanted to terminate the ghost or trap it?'
'i don't care, just get eve back.'
the gun sent a wave of energy ahead and i saw a ripple strike a large shape , green hollow eyes flared and it fell back, releasing eve who seemed to fall forwards from out of the shadows, she seemed unhurt. the ghost moved fast, it hovered above eve like an inky cloud, my gun sent another blast towards it and this time the ghost howled and retreated.
i grabbed eves arm, pulling her towards me, 'you okay.'
'yes, a little shocked but i'm okay.'
i scanned the perimeter for more ghosts, nothing registered.
'it's hard to believe these things were once human,'
'yeah but they have no humanity now.'
'what does that make them?'
'the enemy,' i said.

home. masses of things to do are being done as i slip into productivity mode, unfortunately there's very little money in the mission vaults and i'm feeling the strain. this trip cost me a small fortune i don't have but in retrospect i'm glad i went, i needed to help jake and it was great spending that time with him, plus i caught up with friends i have not seen for 25 to 30 years and that was really nice to.
so all in all i'm okay, just somewhat overwhelmed by the terrible rain and cold weather, and the budget that i now have to live under.

pan was happy to see me, he's a bit frustrated by the rain as well.

ian picks me up in a super car, it's some kinda shining speed demon with a super massive soundtrack and hi revolutions we depart the front garden as my mum watches curious as to who my strange friends are. he passes me a joint.
we go to the country pub where we drink guiness under a willow tree in the setting sun by the canal. it's relaxing and takes me back to a softer gentler england that i did enjoy many years ago.
i tell ian what a strange, eventful day it's been and how one phase of my life seems to have ended and another begins. we go to a few other pubs, all quite tranquil and very nice, i'm feeling quite drunk.
we head to his house and smoke more, his wife joanne comes down and makes us food, really good food, we talk about the past, that strange country that keeps coming back to me now i have the right cues.
strangely when i was doing some pro photography in sydney i used an image of ian on my business card, it was taken with a pin hole camera and i really liked the energy in the image, it seemed tpo capture a moment, a now, from a sequence of time. the image was given a new context and a new reality, i kinda liked that about photography, it was magickal and a form of time travel.
anyway all those years ian was still there, part of me and strangely in the secret sections of my wallet i trawl out a card, i'm not sure why or what it was doing there but there ya go.
ian was amazed.
we are smashed, laughing about films we saw together, animal house where bluto turns around to us, the only two in the cinema and says his famous words, which ironically i forget now, apocalypse now, star wars, the time bandits, we spent a lot of time watching movies as ian worked at the cinema, i recall him now in his box tie and jacket, that young baby face now looking worn and worldly.
there's one thing about ian i love, it's amazing to watch and see because it really is something rare. he absolutely loves his wife and she him. mans gotta respect that.
joanne is easy to love though, she's kind and generous and gentle, very honest and funny. i can see why they get on so well. i'm really happy for ian, for them.
so we watch star trek the new one, which is amazing and then i crash ourt on the sofa.
later ian drops me off and i go for lunch with mum and dad and martin, it's very nice, beautiful summers afternoon, really perfect day. we go to a small pub restaurant but as soon as we arrive mum starts behaving over the top and i want to just disappear. poor dad unable to even get a word in.
anyway it's a good lunch.
i'm dropped off at the airport 5 hours early so they can watch the football, i wander around looking for something interesting to do but generally end up spending all my loose change on strange elderberry drinks.
i'm in korea now, killing five hours again, i slept most of the flight, woken only to eat a strange korean meal that was mostly noodles and seaweed. now i walk the massive airport surrounded by the strange ambiance of people in transit. life in transit. actually airports are a perfect enviroment, reflecting the real nature of transition. korea has nice lounges and lots of space, it's well organised and efficient, there's only a tiny amount of chaos and it's always behind you.

jake and i part company for the moment, he's off to explore the world and conquer, i'm setting off home, to relax and find peace. it's the saddest feeling, the separation and distance but i maintained a certain stoicism and kept positive, after all he is doing exactly what i did and my father. however for me it is a poignant moment, after all he is the reason i lived in australia for the last 22 years, there were a few tears but generally it was good, healthy and we managed to say the things we needed to.
someone once said to me love is when you would die for someone, i guess there's an element of truth in that, i feel like that sometimes, that i would give everything to keep jake going, i guess mothers are in tune with this to but you don't hear about fathers much, they keep it under their hats i guess.
it's a strange moment, i'm on the way out, jake's on the way in, his star is rising, mine is falling, yeah i feel it in the future, burning bright, i just hope i get to see it before mine fades out completely.

what a world, the bland leading the bland, ah it hurts my poor olde heart, here in the fringe of culture where good old london the city of my youth is devoid of spirit and heart, crushed by some weird globalisation that eats anything original and independent, no wonder people are depressed, it's just natural to be depressed, being depressed means your normal. i'd taken a few walks with my dad into the local town and we wandered through the crowds he said, 'what has this place come to, it's just shit?' he blamed the politics, blair and brown had fucked england up totally.
yeah dad was lucid and correct, the society had been hijacked by these trendy socialist wankers who destroyed england s culture with politically correct thinking and thought police. how absurd that it's illegal to fly the flag, how can anyone have pride in a nation when they can't fly a flag. not that cheap nationalism is the way either but in australia everyone feels a certain love for their home, here it's like a self loathing. and it's deep, very deep. so deep it goes right back to the empire, when all the karmic implications have come back to huant england, their empire has invaded it and changed the whole idea of what england is. sure it's tolerant and welcoming but it's also dropped it's standard. no innovation, just pr sound bytes, no real independence, europe makes the rules now. is this good perhaps, no, ask anyone and they whisper they are totally bamboozled by what has occurred her during labours years. australia don't become england. better chaos than a zombie republic.
the euro pian is one world govt, they attempted this with climate change, they will find food shortage the next issue to put fear into the people, the chinese own most farms here, the food shortage is coming, it's coming fast and it will mean massive changes to everything.
food, oil and water are the new battlefields. you can see the future played out like a chess game, the left wing is really the right wing, the people in between are the cash crop, soylent green anyone.

my family not intent with crushing me have managed to focus their madness upon jakob who returned dejected and depressed after my brother and mother picked him up from the station. i've spent the evening attempting to cheer him up and make him understand that he is fine, he did nothing wrong and he is not at fault. he just can't understand why my mother is so irrational, having never encountered anything like it before. he knows it is destructive and needs to get out fast as it is impacting on his mental health now.
in the morning we both go into the city, looking for an apartment which i think he has found. we spend a really great morning in a coffee shop in brick lane, it's dark and has hookah pipes everywhere, i like it.
we part company and i head off back towards charing cross, on the way i stop in at rough trade records and promote my band, something i am crap at but have to do.
i pick up an astrological chart from mysteries a good bookshop, i get a couple of books and look for a few gifts for evan and leanne but honestly find nothing suitable. i head back. tonight i have a meeting with someone i went to school with, mash.
i broke his nose when i was about 14 and we were good friends up until i left the uk.
he picks me up and we go to the pub where we are joined by bruno another guy i was at skool with.
we actually get quite drunk and end up having a great night, mash was always very cynical and sarcastic, he still possesses that wit but these days it has a serious edge to it, everyone seems to know the future is bleak. we chat about books and he recommends 'experience' by martin amis a writer i enjoy. he also talks a lot about traveling and his impressions on the usa, it's a good night and we travel home in the back of a cab laughing. time travel.
incidentally bruno left skool with no qualifications, came from an impoverished background, had a brother who was into hard core crime ended up being the manager of british telecom, while his brother is a professor of mathematics.

well apart from feeling kinda empty today, missing terry and jean a bit and jake who has decided to stay on an extra day and find an apartment in shoreditch, i'm fighting the cold weather and reading the new aliester reynolds book, terminal world, a really different type of book for him, somewhat within and around one location and the style seems very pulpy in areas, not much astrophysics so far.
it's a strange day, very still and contemplative, my days are numbered now, i will return to sydney in five days. five days that's all we've got.

heading down to brighton after jake and i part ways, he's off to see his friends in shoreditch and brick lane, me i'm heading down south england, brighton to catch up with terry and jean who i have not seen in 24 years. i sit next to a guy reading alexander dumas, so we chat about his work and swap fave books.
down in brighton the sun starts to shine, every one looks happy and healthy, the station looks busy with a nice flow, those victorians knew how to build majestically, i wonder if terry will recognise me, it's been a long time. a long time.
it's surreal, when we meet up the changes are obvious, 24 years measured in memory, the present makes us appear different and the traces of youth are lost in a distant memory and feeling, the past they say is another country. but the three off us are older, wiser and somewhat more mature than when we last stood together, our experience has shaped us and moulded us in similar ways, it's quite remarkable seeing these people, profoundly moving and very emotional.
we decide to have a wander through brightons hot spots, the wonderful lanes and craft shops, the bookshops and coffee shops, the eccentric styles and individuals who inhabit them, i immediately really like this place, it puts me at ease, terry says it's the bohemian in me, and i think he's right.
there's something about brighton, the individuality of things, the general vibrancy, vitality and english seaside archetype novelty of it. i can certainly understand why it attracts a creative crowd, there's some very interesting things happening here, the people all seem creative and young energy abounds. we wander down to the beach where i see not sand but stones, millions of stones. it's surreal seeing this beach, where is the sand? it's something my brain finds difficult to cope with.
we get some fish and chips, sit down by a merry- go- round and suddenly i'm travelling through time, terry warns me not to step on a butterfly lest i cease to exist.
we drive back to their lovely home in working, stopping to look at the eccentric house boats.
later we eat food and go walking down to the beach where im again bemused and somewhat bewildered by the stones on the beach.
we have a late night, talking, we cover all things important, it's good, it feels good and healing in a way, these time loops and cycles are here for reasons, it's important for me to honour them.
terry and jean can't do enough for me, they are so generous and caring, noble souls on a bumpy journey working it all out, struggling with the same shit as i do, they are articulate and well read and terry is a encyclopedia of information, jean has her own independent intelligence, and they have created a harmonious environment, creative and nurturing, these are my friends, these are my tribe.
the next morning we head of to the wonderful downs, where we climb up to a chalk plateau and gaze down at the land and ocean. terry tells me that the chalk here and all over the south of england is actually the bones of lifeforms that have sunk down. it's an outstanding fact, imagine the volume of life it took to create these structures.
i return to london, terry and jean walk with me through the labyrinth of streets as we hunt for a pair of furry boots i saw yesterday, but it's no good, they have mysteriously vanished.
we say goodbye, it's strange, 'not just a reunion, an event' terry says.
i'm sitting on the train, heading back to london, there's a tear in my eye. it's a strange experience, to connect after so long away, to discover that the people i care about have all taken very different routes but arrived at the same inner truths. this is reassuring for me, it gives me something that i have not had in a while. hope.
terry, jean, i'm so lucky to have you in my life, what absolutely genuine souls you are, in many ways my journey started with you guys, it's not over yet, we have some tracks to lay down, an unfinished blues number, some dirty rhythm's, three chords and the truth. the deep fix.

massive day, a weary tired old capt. mission hauled himself out of bed into the london traffic and underground, jake and i, two weary travellers, jaded from the strange home life we are in, the noise and endless chitter chatter, words floating through the space, none make any sense, on that train ride jake spills his guts and i concur, acknowledging that this frustration will motivate him forwards and onwards as we part company somewhere on the tube, he on his mission to start his life, me on mine to get back to being a positive healthy individual. i spend the morning in book shops, pick up a few choice rare books and a paul weller cd, i heard the cd at ians and wanted a copy to take home. it's great.
london with a bit of sun is okay, soho has a nice vibe, despite the crowded streets and the noise, interesting specialist shops, i found myself enjoying wandering the back streets of covent garden, picking up the different accents and faces, everyone seemed really busy. i ate my salad outside under a statue figure with a few other al fresco dinners, we ate our food while fending off the bold pidgins who attacked and swooped down attempting to scavenge whatever we dropped. these birds are scrawny and fierce, they have survival in their eyes. later i wander into charing cross, and drenched by the onslaught of people feel fatigue set in, heading home i fall asleep on the train. later i connect up with jake, he's got interviews next week and has found the area he wants to live in, shore ditch, brick lane.

wow parents, they can be the worst influences, i guess they don't mean to most of the time and it's such a sensitive area, taboo to discuss, i mean outside of therapy it's unhealthy to discuss openly with them about issues and dynamics although i do with jakob, i try to be as open as possible until he gets bored or tells me to can it. but there are limits to disclosure, and this is appropriate, however for a writer there are no limits, everything is revealed and laid bare, it must be this way, for the writer reveals his soul in everything he creates.
i was reading irvine welsh, crime and secrets of the master chefs, two very heavy novels about families and dysfunctionality and environments that oppress and past catching up and loops and time, dialogue that scans like conversation, conversation that you could almost hear in any pub, welsh can write. he has the perception to look at a character and create him as flawed and desperate and unloveable and then you find yourself beginning to care, starting to love the beast. some people criticise me for reading welsh, why read something so negative, so dark and fucked up?
i don't know, it's not fun or easy going, it's compulsive and grotesque but raw and real i guess and these people who inhabit his world are people i kind of know, people i left behind, unsavoury and unlikable, but it's a darkness i am familiar with and like all mythological journeys we find the main character finds some sort of redemption at the end of their journey and it's this journey we all need to take really, at the age of 47 when you have had a few knocks, taken a couple of hits and dodged the killing joke, when your heart is not quite as light as it was, when your soul feels slightly heavier, it's time to start looking for some kind of closure. it starts with family and it should end with family, so i forgive everyone, my mum, my dad, my brother, far out people if you would just see me.
it's really all i can do on that score.
jake is getting ready, he's organising himself and doing a great job, i know he's nervous, anxiety sits heavy in this house anyway and it can't be easy with the environment but he does really really well, he smiles and jokes and gets what needs to be done done, he wins people over and he works hard, he uses the one thing that will send him far in this place, initiative.
i love you jake, you made a man who never really feel pride over any of his achievements, although loosing my virginity was a big moment, the rest i always felt like i was actually quite detached, a side effect of having a good imagination and being somewhat other worldly, but i never really felt proud about any thing, even the films i acted in i never really saw them, the photographs i took maybe one or two made me feel good but pride was not the word i'd use. pride they say is a sin. well i understand it has a negative connotation, but i think in this context i can say i don't care if it's a sin or not, i feel proud that you are who you are. i don't ask anything from you, just be happy, live true to yourself and never be afraid to love the people you care about.
i have ten more days with you jake, five of those you will be away at your friends, so that leaves 5.
five days to really do something mind blowing and brilliant.

we drink a lot of guinness, smoke some very nice mellow weed, ian roache my friend from my photographic years and i are filling in gaps for one another. it's such a strange feeling to meet some one i was close with, the closest thing i had to a friend during that time and after 28 years connect up.
ian i love you man, you travelled a long strange journey but you found yourself and the girl, i can't explain how happy i am for you. we were really good friends and my terrible mind had forgotten our time together, massive blank spots, massive areas where i just had no memory were filled in last night as we wandered through the past.
we were such good friends that when we were hauled up at the head masters office they said to me, if i didn't turn up regularly they would chuck ian out. we were close ian like brothers.
we remembered together, with ian doing most of the work...

a day we had on assignment, in oxford supposedly capturing the town but we found this amazing pub called the 'oranges and lemons' with an amazing jukebox filled with obscure punk songs and ian took a photograph of me which he kept, and it the perfect document to oxford. me under a punk poster with a beer at the table, half drunk and gazing up at the ceiling while every one else took pictures of bridges and buildings we captured a time and a moment. cartier bresson.

a time when we went to our microfilm course and the lecturer said to us as he held aloft a microfilm fishe, 'this is the future.'
i tell ian that is the only memory of collage i have, but it is all seeping in now, gaps being filled.


ian told me how we found a secret place, a stream like winnee the pooh and piglets spot we kept it a secret although a mutual friend sara always pestered us to find out where it was. but we kept it a secret. it was not really a brook or stream more like a polluted drain but we raced sticks along it.

ian has photo's of me that are just incredible, i look exactly like jake looks now.
it is time travel.

we spoke about many drunken nights, watching fights in pubs, one where some one got slashed up really bad and then the attacker came after me, apparently we both fled as he chased us with his knife.
one when i pulled ian off some one he was punching, screaming, 'stop, you will kill him.'
yeah blood was spilt in them days to, london always had this side, ugly and brutal. i recalled someone pulling a knife out in the darkroom on sara and how ian and i protected her from our psychotic peer. we recalled bands we saw, girls we chased, crazy nights escaping arrests and beatings.

but the thing that we enjoyed most, the thing we both were amazed at was how true to ourselves we remained, we have changed and travelled far, we have experienced all that one can except war, we both had a desire as photographers to photograph war, and here we are half way through life, still the same really, smoking spliffs and drinking guinness laughing at ourselves and being free.

ian man i don't have many friends but you are one of them, i am so sorry i forgot about everything, i feel so stupid but as it all came flooding back i knew we shared a really special period together and im very grateful for the fact we came full cycle. onwards brother.

pushing the wind
stopping the tide
only fools and gods
attempt to try
yeah i'm a classic fool, always twirling and tumbling, stumbling and bumbling along my merry little life. not a care and all the care, it's just a dream sometimes and it hurts like life sometimes. sometimes when i think about the things i have lost i just feel the weight of my history like a fucking powerful gravity crushing my bones and sometimes i feel lighter than a bubble. catch me on a good day i'lll float away, and those that appreciate a good bubble will let me, those that don't will prod and poke, stick a finger in until i shatter into many fragments of nothingness, and your left with an idea.
jake and i go into town, the local one, a slight blue sky pokes through the grey clouds but not for long, the rain clouds appear on cue, we walk into the high street and look at all the people with their bad skin and broken hearts, the ripped up shredded dreams torn from their shell like bodies, the hopes sucked from their minds and replaced with a dangerous nillistic dread. you can see the hate rippling from their faces, anger is an energy, snippets of conversations,
'tell that fucken bitch ta get her ass dawon ere nah.'
'smacked im in his hed i did.'
'daft cunt ended up in nick with broken ribs innit.'
'i gave her a slap round the boat race, shut her up.'
yeah on it goes, the old people with their trolly's push their way through a war zone of drunken russian types, they grip their purses and look around with nerves frayed, the fear is so thick, it's like a soup you can eat.
we do meet a friendly guy in a bank, he's great, helps jake open up a bank account. he wears a badge that says his name, i can't pronounce it but underneath it says, 'i like star wars.' so as we leave i say, 'may the force be with you.'
this seems to make his day.
yeah i'm a fool and a renegade spreading a few smiles in type of hell.
we wander through some mall, looking for something to give us some spark, we wander into a book shop, but there's nothing in there really, just dead books, nothing new.
on the bus home the driver rips me off and i gaze out of the window thinking about the karmic implications, and as i jump of the bus i wave to the driver and yell, 'instant karma.'
he's to far gone to really register, i walk towards the family home, it's not joyous at all, it's a hollow, terrible thing, everyone shouting and screaming and panic reigns supreme, i phone an old pal, ian, he's very happy to hear from me, ironically he has lived in brisbane for the last 10 years and is teaching photography at the same university we both studied photography in.
'i've come full circle.' he says.
i laugh silently thinking my life is a freaking spiral, i'm uncertain if i'm going up or down, but i end up saying nothing of consequence. ian is excited, we decide to go for drinks tonight.

back in the terrible winter like conditions of summer in london, where the undead wander the streets looking for heat, i'm one of them now, brain dead and quietly shocked. through the crowds we navigate, the family unit, falling up and down, like some strange novel on a dysfunctional family with no salvation, only a bleak humour as we potter about unable to communicate or interact effectively,
the cold bitter wind eroding my body heat, which if you don't know is a sun like mass of energy, i generate enormous amounts of solar flares and people are always somewhat freaked when they feel my skin, just like a hot oven, a furnace burns within my cells, energy cannot be destroyed but in the terrible fucking alien landscape of london it certainly gets reduced.
we shuffle into the house and i am hit by a terrible stench, the rotting smell of cabbages infested with decay. our fridge and freezer is kaput.
there's a pile of mail on the floor, carpeting the entrance, it's incredible, more mail than i get in one year.
i do some shuffling with the cars, organise a few clean ups, then i retire into the confines of a tiny room, where i read about half of robin shepard's book 'a state beyond the pale.'
you non believer, you doubter, you ignorant intellectual, you who cast the eye of judgement through your left wing humanistic mindset, are you as free as you think?
read the book and set your self free

Prahlad Jani ... confounded doctors who don't understand how he survives. Photo: AFP

An 83-year-old Indian holy man who says he has spent seven decades without food or water has astounded a team of military doctors who studied him during a two-week observation period.

Prahlad Jani spent a fortnight in a hospital in the western India state of Gujarat under constant surveillance from a team of 30 medics equipped with cameras and closed circuit television.

During the period, he neither ate nor drank and did not go to the toilet.

"We still do not know how he survives," neurologist Sudhir Shah told reporters after the end of the experiment.

"It is still a mystery what kind of phenomenon this is."

The long-haired and bearded yogi was sealed in a hospital in the city of Ahmedabad in a study initiated by India's Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO), the state defence and military research institute.

The DRDO hopes that the findings, set to be released in greater detail in several months, could help soldiers survive without food and drink, assist astronauts or even save the lives of people trapped in natural disasters.

"(Jani's) only contact with any kind of fluid was during gargling and bathing periodically during the period," G. Ilavazahagan, director of India's Defence Institute of Physiology and Allied Sciences (DIPAS), said in a statement.

Jani has since returned to his village near Ambaji in northern Gujarat where he will resume his routine of yoga and meditation. He says that he was blessed by a goddess at a young age, which gave him special powers.

During the 15-day observation, which ended on Thursday, the doctors took scans of Jani's organs, brain, and blood vessels, as well as doing tests on his heart, lungs and memory capacity.

"The reports were all in the pre-determined safety range through the observation period," Shah told reporters at a press conference last week.

Other results from DNA analysis, molecular biological studies and tests on his hormones, enzymes, energy metabolism and genes will take months to come through.

"If Jani does not derive energy from food and water, he must be doing that from energy sources around him, sunlight being one," said Shah.

"As medical practitioners we cannot shut our eyes to possibilities, to a source of energy other than calories."

my cousin and i are driving through the desert hills, we are heading north west towards a muslum village, she slides the car over to the side and we walk into a decending set of steps into a dimly lit pizza joint. i order a couple of pizzas and make sure we get a table in the corner, the place is not packed but there are a number of other people eating quietly, sucking sodas and whispering at us, i feel safe, nothing can touch me now.
tara pulls out a deck of cards, the crowley pack, i tell her about the pack, a quick crowley download. she smiles all loving like and sprawls the deck in front of her. she's reading something into her future, i ask the chef about the cheese he is using on his pizza.he's made it himself.
we enter a dialogue, he tells me his people were enslaved by the ottoman empire taken from russia, a place call circasia, they were made to fight in the army and taken into the middle east where when the ottoman empire left retreated without the circasians. they just stayed put, still practised their muslium traditions and intergrarted into the jewish community where they now even serve in the army. weird shit huh?
anyways these guys make a mean pizza, it's a friendly place, a crowd gathers around tara as she reads for everyone, i sit back and ponder my navel.
later we call in at a friends, she is in the middle of a drama with her two boyfriends, her lovers, the same old story, both men want her to chose one, i play the soloman card and suggest she get a third, cut ties with the two, but it's to clean a solution, people like their dramas.
later i watch the moon, tara asks me what sort of women i like, i say i'm the kinda guy who likes witches, strippers or librarians.

i escaped tel aviv, after being thrown around in the particle accelerator, it spat me out and sent me north, into the golan heights, the other interzone, the desolate wasteland where the jackals' roam wild, no traffic, no lights, no laws, everyone is stoned immaculate, i sit with my cousin reading tarot cards in an old shack, drinking strong fresh brewed arab coffee, smoking hash surrounded by mountains and listening to strange arabian music with beats and chilled out vibes playing softly in the backdrop.
tantra healer, tantra home. it's soft inside hard outside, safe, heart based, sanctuary.
later we drive down to the sea of gallalie, i've been prepared to step across the glass like water, my mind is empty, my heart is filled with smoke, there's a certain technique i mastered, it's a form of zen, empty mind, light heart, plus some other sneaky mental gymnastics. i always thought i could do it, but the forces around me have other plans. everything starts working here, the strange mechanics of my brain, plans don't mean shit, the path i walk is based in the non rational, it's the right side of the brain, the unconscious impulse towards conciousness, through my process i dissolved boundaries, i know this, it's like car mechanics to a mechanic, like one plus one equals two to a mathmatician, these realms are clear to me, i'm guided by this, i have been guided by this all my life, but it's almost perfected now, like some people are guided by money and attain wealth beyond belief, it leads me exactly where i need to be, the right place the right time, i'm like the fool stepping off the edge, im the magician manifesting whatever i want, i'm the stars and universe, i'm the high priest and hierophant, i'm, the wheel of fortune, the one of cups, the ace of cups, the devil and the hanging man, the whole fucking deck including the joker.
down by the river jorden in the black water, the ancient ceromonies and rituals,i'm hanging out with two new friends, healers, witches and medicine women, these women are connecting to something ancient, traditional and this is secret womens buisness and not for me despite their invitations, i have other buisness here.
i gravitate towards the mayan pictures and cherokee huts, the brewing coffee i see adam and his girl friend renatta. they have a dog called daisy, i mention my dog pansy is being looked after by a renatta. we have connected we talk about their recent ayahuscia experience, and i tell them that i am an emmisionary of ayahuscia. this is it, captains mission, i talk with them about what's going on, why and how, the download happens in a very short time, very short, we all know. everyone tuned in does, all you have to do is belive and walk the walk. this is the future as time becomes meaningless, this is the ebb and flow meeting together, when all constructs disappaite and truth is reavealed, where everything happens at once, where manifestation occurs simulataniously, where heart meets mind, where potential is realised.
i'm in a big house, it's designed as a temple, santa fe style, new mexico, filled with natural soft light, magnig=ficent esoteric art, space, there's four stories, each quite different, there's tented areas, altars, artists materials, there's a library and balconies with panoramic vistas, i can see the landscape unfolding before me, a king without a kingdom becuase a true king knows.
the big moon rise, the smell of jasmine, i relax on the roof, reading the most important book ever, the zohar. a whole floor to myself. they have asked me to run a san pedro session, people arrive but i am enjoying being alone, smoking my hash, enjoying the peace and quiet, reading this incredible treasure.
eventually i run the circle, shamanics works for me, i am a natural though i am not a shaman i am a magickian, it's in the blood, my mind is interdimensional anyway, so it's natural, to me it's like breathing, i fix up a mild brew.
i ask permission from the plant, cut a healthy piece, bless the spirit of the plant and chop and cook it, the preparations are made, mescaleto is invoked, we drink, the wind now howls through the house unsettling everyone, the moon is full, it's fucking huge in the sky, candles flicker, the sprinkling of lights from tiberius in the distance looks like softly lit twinkling fairy lights, everyone seems entranced, the journey is begun, i cast my eyes over the bodies, big responsibility, i let the medicine do its work and sit back.
yeah the culture out here in the golan suits me, it's frontier land, only the desperate, the broken, beaten, the wanted, hunted, the outsiders jaded by humanity, faded by times blow, the lost characters who just want to disappear quietly, the healers, earth guardians, the recovered, the wounded, the broken hearted, good hearted, the philosophical few, the families that survived, the children that make do with simple things in a complex land, there's a hell of a lot of love up here, for such a barren place. i know why jesus walked across that lake, i know what motivated him, i understand it all up here.


the moon drifts across the night, unfamiliar stars, the sound of tanks practising, there's a killer on the road, i'm on a train, it's so clean, precise, travel here is simple and efficient, everyone speaks three languages at least, it's strangely peaceful, everyone is relaxed, there's no time to race around, train travel is languid, like airship travel, people plugging into their books, i pods, laptops and dreams.
i'm home in netanya for an hour, regroup with jake and martin, we decide to go to our other cousin, eagles for a party, however we end up having dinner and drinking to much fig liquier with him, the party seems like to much effort. i slide into a deep sleep.
i'm out of hash now, the harsh reality of sun light, hangovers and dence dyamics phase in, i see the picture clearly, it's an ugly truth.