help! im having a strange life.
auntie amalia i love you, you have been a great friend these last months but you cannot expose those feet to me anymore, it's beginning to drive me mental, i'm already devient enough. it's infiltrating my brain in the most random ways, and now it's become very present, just like that guy in 'close encounters' who starts building a mountain in his kitchen, all obsessions end in the kitchen, even ones that start in the bedroom.
i never ever even think about feet, i barely acknowledge my own, but you have 'those feet' and this morning when i held one in my grip, in an instant, just like mr. spock's vulcan mind link, some weird memory activated itself, transported to another time, another planet, and it was hard to let it go.

old captain mission feels the cold after the sun sinks, it's winter and mr.freeze has me in his sights. night's i have to bunker down, old mission control is difficult to keep warm, i must look a sight in my strange pjs and hat, my overcoat and scarf but these here are hard times and old captain mission has weary bones and blood that needs the occasional jump start these days, mostly nights. i smashed my head again a week or so ago, it was my own fault having no spacial awareness, it's amazing i am alive. i was crouching down, searching for virgin cold pressed olive oil at work, i discovered it hidden away on the lowest depths of the cupboard, my eyes straining, my back creaking and my joints all throbbing from neglect and regret. i reached inside the cupboard and clutched the bottle then jumped for joy, with full propulsion from my wonderfully adept thighs, enthusiasm stopped dead in it's tracks by the corner of a cupboard that lurked above me. okay to describe this i can only say the sudden transition from acute joy to absolute out of body pain was incredible, i was brought to my knees, dumbfounded, struck mid flight by the most intense feelings, none of which i can say were pleasant.
the wave of nausea as i knelt there on the floor seemed involuntary, as if my whole response system had been hijacked. i think my eyes watered up and for a moment i saw the stars.
anyway later, days later, yesterday in fact i noticed my head had swollen up and now engraved across the left side of my scalp is a trench like the grand canyon and some bruising. then came the throbbing pain and discomfort. so i took myself down to the hospital, midnight, they asked me a lot of questions, i mistakenly said it was 1810 when they asked the date, i actually knew it was 2010 and im not really sure why i said 1810 but i did. then they asked me for an emergency contact number, family etc, next of kin?
no one. i am truly alone. it was quite a strange shock.
i was told that the pain in my head was the injury repairing itself so i drove home back to mission control put my head down and let it do it's work.

head injuries seem to chase me, why? what the hell is going on, what strange pattern is being repeated here. what part of this puzzle am i failing to get, everytime i have one it's like a reset button and part of me dies and something new is born, i just want a quiet life, get the girl, be creative, hideaway, get old and happy and die smiling.

she's the book of revelations,
the hydra of desire
a wanton mythological
goddess made from fire
she's the anti anti
contradiction paradox
she's the cosmic principle
outside pandoras box

she's the fashion without frontier
the face that launched a million space ships
she's more hallucagenic than
the strongest acid trips
you can grasp her or take her
as many conquers have
only to find themselves
well and truly trapped

she's the act of submission
her fingers each a whip
breaking the back of love
a venusian time slip
you can stick her with a pin
as every man has tried
but she's more of a wasp
than a butterfly

she has the voodoo eyeball
original monkey feet
she's the demon temptress kali
a flaming sun of heat
you can trap her in your cage
as many lovers do
only to wake up in a jail
they never meant to

the artist is from sydney, she is known as del kathyren barton, she one of the most interesting contemporary painters i have seen from australia because her work is feminine, it captures the goddess nature and makes it beautiful, this is more cutting edge and revolutionary than most of the work i have seen in sydney galleries, it is extremely subversive when you consider the art scene here.
her connection to the animal kingdom is overt and sexual, but not disturbing, it all looks very natural, the goddess and the nature spirits are connected by a natural magick. her women have multiple breasts, super feminine, they almost transcend human, these woman lay with wolves, which is a more powerful shamanic energy than running with them, i love her work, it's really quite magnificent and i hope she is successful with it. it really moves me to see painting like this, it's brilliant.

disappointing day, all my plans came undone, although the huge moon at the end of tomorrow made it worthwhile, i took a ride on a piscean space craft with the praying mantis from venus, we slipped into overdrive down on the beach, cavorting and frolicking like chimpanzees on lsd throwing bananas at one another, however it's very cold outside and eventually i have to retire to the warmth of mission control cranking heaters, burning candles, we languish in hot baths and oils, the sweet scent of an opiate based side effect.
i wake up outside, on the balcony, sun rise pierced my heart and something rumbles deep within, i have a hunger that needs, it's a overwhelming need, it drives my body, my thoughts, i can feel the need in every blood cell, white, red and blue all pulse with need, which should not be confused with desire, i wander through the rooms, find a photograph of myself with dreadlocks, i looked happy.
lightning flash of realization, i see how we all have this need, the one we can never feed, the one we cannot attain, the need to return to the past.
heartfilled with regret i wander out into the sun where i melt to dust.
even love couldn't save me now.

he who cannot obey himself will be commanded. that is the nature of living creatures.

driving home at 3am from brighton le sands after an evening with val and the book of vilah people i'm noticing the incredible amount of inflatable objects on the streets, like some phantasmagorical dimension has ruptured into my nocturnal sojourn, i kept one eye on the speed and the other on these strange figures that seemed to sway out at me as i drove past them, some dressed in bright primes, others lurking in dark with pale washed out faces, sneering as i skirted around them. it was not until i darted out from the harbour tunnel and made it through military road that one of these fucking refuges from someones unimaginative nightmare leapt out in front of the car. i didn't slow down, not at all, in fact in that split second i calculated that my car would be undamaged and the huge clown like figure would be knocked away, however he managed to just swerve out from harms way and behind in my mirror i could see him on his tether spinning around, every so often his huge grin would rotate itself at me, like a surreal haunting reminder that the game had only just begun. over the spit bridge another face leered out from the darkness, a manic screeching laughter, a policeman about 9feet tall with a huge truncheon cam looming towards me, suddenly from the truncheon an inflatable sign inflated itself, 'STOP' it read as i drove past it and headed towards the parkway, my speed picking up, i slipped on a cd, oh the irony as it was a brand new purchase 'the laughing clowns' a band i have just discovered. eternally yours.
the night wore on, i fixed my stare on the unravelling road and focused my attention on breathing, i was travelling fast, my heart was beating like a bass drum, i wound down the window a little to cool off, i was generating to much heat. i must have been on the second half of the parkway when a shadow flicked to the right and something darted past me, a fucking kangaroo of some kind, another inflatable, it was hopping along side me, cigar in mouth, it's big round eye parallel to my face, a waft of cigar smoke drifting inside, my finger hovered over the window button and for some reason i instinctively pushed down, without thinking first my fist smashed into the parallel marsupial and i felt it impact upon something soft, knocking the cigar from it's mouth. the inflatable started to yell, 'fucking bastard that's unfair fighting you prick, come back and fight like a man.'
there words receded as i approached the lake, for a while i slowed down and just let the cold air calm me, it was not until mona vale i started to see the clown figures again, each one leering and posing as i drove past, one slammed down on my roof but i braked hard and it flew off and upwards caught on the wind. i approached a traffic light that i swear went from green straight to red. i slammed on the brakes and waited. i waited for a few minutes and it remained red.suddenly a face squished itself up against the window, bright red lips snarling, small tiny teeth bared themselves, suddenly the back window was covered in a yellow layer of plastic as some other creature smothered it, and i could feel the claustrophobic nightmare encircle me, i drove forwards slowly but it was no good, they had surrounded me and i had no vision.
'what do you want?' i yelled.
'we want you to come to the circus.'
'i hate the fucking circus.'
'we know,' they said.

miss cupcake calls in early morning and feeds me eggs and muffins, while my new sofa arrives, well it's second hand but it looks great, my lounge makes me look respectable now, and i dress respectable, i think i'm going through a respectable phase, all i need is a respectable girl and i'll be set., as long as we don't have to have respectable sex i'lll make it. it's the dawning of a new era, post jake or pj meaning post jake, seeing as my responsibilities have dramatically changed. these are the pj days and my re invention into a respectable citizen is occurring by stealth, soon i will blend in with all the other law abiding citizens, just like an operative undercover blends in to his mission, i will tell you all about my adventures in the world outside, the respectable one, the one where there are no mind altering substances or magick. i will conduct myself with the greatest of respect and offer the most acceptable opinions, i will conform to the general consensus instead of swimming against it, captain mission will adopt a new name, a name like, err lets see, gareth and i will drive my responsible car at responsible speeds listening to radio national and some bach on cd.


ah i do miss william burroughs, i was listening to him last night talking about the war on drugs, it was prophetic, he is a hip priest, very smart and way ahead of his time, he is my fave writer and i miss his unique ways. i met him once in west berlin, i heard him read from 'cities of the red night' and afterwards he shook my hand, he said, 'i like a man who can shoot straight.'
' i said, 'i'm not a shooter, i like explosions.'
looking me in the eye, he smiled wryly, and went on to shake some one else's hand. yeah william burroughs had a huge influence over my writing life, he was a revolutionary artist, and he kept his sense of humour till the end.i liked hunter s thompson to, for the same reason but i never got to meet him.



A cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.
William S. Burroughs

A functioning police state needs no police.
William S. Burroughs

A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on.
William S. Burroughs

Admittedly, a homosexual can be conditioned to react sexually to a woman, or to an old boot for that matter. In fact, both homo - and heterosexual experimental subjects have been conditioned to react sexually to an old boot, and you can save a lot of money that way.
William S. Burroughs

After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn't do it. I sure as hell wouldn't want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military.
William S. Burroughs

After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager.'
William S. Burroughs

Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means.
William S. Burroughs

Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact.
William S. Burroughs

Be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary.
William S. Burroughs

Black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. Casual curses are the most effective.
William S. Burroughs

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.
William S. Burroughs

Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage.
William S. Burroughs

Happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war.
William S. Burroughs

How I hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity.
William S. Burroughs

Hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside.
William S. Burroughs

I am getting so far out one day I won't come back at all.
William S. Burroughs

I had not taken a bath in a year nor changed my clothes or removed them except to stick a needle every hour in the fibrous grey wooden flesh of heroin addiction. I did absolutely nothing.
William S. Burroughs

In deep sadness there is no place for sentimentality.
William S. Burroughs

In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed.
William S. Burroughs

Junk is the ideal product... the ultimate merchandise. No sales talk necessary. The client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy.
William S. Burroughs



Language is a virus from outer space.
William S. Burroughs

Like all pure creatures, cats are practical.
William S. Burroughs

Man is an artifact designed for space travel. He is not designed to remain in his present biologic state any more than a tadpole is designed to remain a tadpole.
William S. Burroughs

Most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks who can't mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has.
William S. Burroughs

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
William S. Burroughs

Our national drug is alcohol. We tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror.
William S. Burroughs

Perhaps all pleasure is only relief.
William S. Burroughs

Silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing.
William S. Burroughs

Smash the control images. Smash the control machine.
William S. Burroughs

Sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts.
William S. Burroughs

The aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values.
William S. Burroughs

The cat does not offer services. The cat offers itself. Of course he wants care and shelter. You don't buy love for nothing.
William S. Burroughs

The face of evil is always the face of total need.
William S. Burroughs

The only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do.
William S. Burroughs

The way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the Indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits.
William S. Burroughs

There couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. They'd be dead in two weeks.
William S. Burroughs

Which came first the intestine or the tapeworm?
William S. Burroughs

You can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal.
William S. Burroughs

Your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative.
William S. Burroughs

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer.
William S. Burroughs

I once met the greatest visionary thinker of our times and his name was Captain Mission.
William S. Burroughs

i always loved robert calverts words, and his sense of humour, he was an original and he was australian and steve kilbey saw him once in hampstead and said he was amazing. imagine that!
i saw robert with hawkwind once on the marc bolan show, he was off his tree but calvert was the most amazing front man, he wore a first world war fighter pilot outfit with goggles and a stuffed hawk sat on his shoulders while he sang spirit of the age, wow, mind blowing stuff for an impressionable young captain mission. space rock!

Grandfather, Great Mysterious One, you have been always, and before you nothing
has been. There is nothing to pray to but you. The star nations all over the
universe are yours. And yours are the grasses of the earth. Day in Day out,
you are the light of things. You are older than all weeds. Older than all
things on Earth.

Grandfather, all over the world the faces of living things are all alike. In
tenderness they have come above the ground. Look upon your children with
children in their arms, that they may face the winds and walk the good road to
the day of quiet.

Teach me to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is! Sweeten my heart
and fill me with life. Give me the strength to understand, and the eyes
to see. Help me for without you I am nothing. Hetchetu aloh!

In your throat is a living song
A living spirit song
His name is long life maker
Yes, I'm here to heal
With the healing ways
Of the magic of the ground
And the magic of the earth

So go on my friend
And sing with the healing spirit
With the magic of the ground
With the magic of the earth
And you will spring to life
Through the power of the words
Through the magic of the ground
Through the magic of the earth

remember the days of winter out in frontier land, the snow had carpeted the world, the empty void had descended upon the lands and the buffalo had all but disappeared. we climbed up that hill for two days, daring the elements, we made our camp on the east ledge and when the sun rose it warmed our hearts. we ate rabbit and drank more whiskey, it was cold and our tears froze. on our face, we could pick them off, i took yours and placed them on the end of my tongue. we climbed higher and eventually reached the plateau. you had climbed well, ascended the hill without complaining yet i knew you were in such pain, the whiskey helped but you kept smiling and kept my spirits up.
on the summit we made another fire in a small cave, i hunted for rabbit but came back with a deer. you made preparations. after eating i prepared the pipe and we smoked, then i wrapped you in the sacred blanket and lay you down, stroking your forehead with my old fingers and i chanted the songs, you gripped my hand and said you were unafraid and that you loved me so very much, and i loved you. the moon had risen now, un-obscured by clouds it hung there above us, lighting up the land in it's mysterious silver light, i chanted and made the rites. your spirit left quickly, your last breath ended with one last smile as your eyes reflected mine. the drum beat of your heart had ceased but your spirit lived in me.

i am awake at 3am freezing. i wrap up in my big berlin coat which is falling apart, i put on a wooly hat but it's no good, the cold has leaked into my bones and they ache and creak like an old skeleton in a damp grave. at dawn i receive a call from a queensland real estate broker, i yell something down the line, later i ring NETGEAR and demand a refund, they put me on hold for 30 mins after giving me the run around. when i finally get the person i have been asking for i've gone nuclear with a very short fuse.
they get the wrath of mission, and back away saying they will investigate my refund request. i tell them there's nothing to investigate just press the buttons and make it happen.
i spend the morning doing domestic stuff, in the afternoon azr calls and rescues me from my neurotic cleaning frenzy. we go shopping. i buy a new sofa, when i get home i wonder why, the old one looks okay, mmm oh well it's not that comfy that's for sure, i think the new ones are better. pansy can have the old ones.
i buy pan some dog food and azr buys a fetish device with a furry whip, it's actually quite pretty and reminds me of a girl i knew in annandale. we eat some weird fast food and cold apple drink made of ice, it makes us queasy and heavy, then we hang out in a tattoo parlour that feels wrong, azr gets a tattoo that says, 'captain mission is science fiction' i get one that reads, 'azr my fave star' then i go home for a nap.

the pm has been stabbed in the back by his own party, which proves my point political animals have not evolved since julius cesear was stabbed in the back by the senate in ancient rome. this type of posturing is farcical and pointless, all political movements have reached impasse, it's certainly the end of democracy, which means 'rule by the people'. what we are entering into is a new type of ideology where the people are so dumb they don't know how to rule therefore the ruling is done through a process called 'dumb-ocracy.
an example of this could be the mining tax.
okay at first the mining tax seems like a great idea, tax the very rich and spread the wealth, any man in the street seems to think so, lets drill deep into the issue.
the mining companies are making a huge profit at the moment but this is a boom time, for the many years before the boom time they actually made a huge loss. the investment in mining is huge, it takes billions of dollars to even find locations, let alone fund the mine, it's high risk, yet the pay off is employment and and eventual profit. so after spending a fortune on sourcing a mine and then infrastructure to move it's minerals the company starts making a profit. suddenly the government says we want that profit on top of the tax you already pay. why?
the reason is obvious, the government have run out of money. they have spent the cash the last government saved, wasted it on stupid give aways that made everyone feel good for a while. but they forget the job of a government is economic management.
oh but what about the gfc everyone yells?
the biggest mistake that dudd and obama made was the bail outs, that cost the nation more money than they had, it took the usa and australia into debt. the solution was there, in capitalism, not socialism, let those companies fail and crash, they fucked up, that's capitalism working. then build in some regulations for new companies and move towards sustainable economies. this would have been a smart option. but the problem is people like kate blanchard are invited to summits instead of smart thinkers and innovators.
what i want to know is what fucking ideas did kate blanchard have and why is she invited to a summit on austalias future over some one else.
dumbocracy at it's best.
it really is a joke. the australian public should not vote for labour, it's the highest form of treachery and reflects the base mentality of their collective intelligence. it's a historic mistake and despite my lack of love for rudd, i do think he was brutalised by his own party unnecessarily. it's shameful and the public should make it known, but they wont, why?
dumbocracy now rules.
later after the evil deed abbot made an accurate assessment during question time, it was quite simply incredible to watch him defending rudd and speaking up for him, the labour party are finished.

JAKOB taking after his old man hanging around strip clubs.

grumpy capt. mission in mona vale this morning looking like a dirty old man in his trench coat with his pants falling down, wanders the strange second hand shop with miss cupcake, outside in the sunshine gets fed spinach pie, ginger beer and coffee, sits outside a butchers shop on a bench with a dog called frankie watching passers by, pops into an art gallery with a brazilian man making up stories about rain and deliveries, making plans to cook a big fish, i seem to perk up a bit so here's a tune for you.

and another thing, people in cafes who take their own sweet time reading the communal paper, fuck them, especially when they put it down and start chatting to their boyfriend, it's quite simple, read the fucking paper and pass it onwards. this is multi tasking, and it's predominately done by women who i know are designed to do such things but need to consider the implications upon others, especially me. fuck anyone else, my time is short, it's running out, i don't want to fuck around waiting, especially when i don't have a book on me.
a better way to deal with this situation women, is talk to me about what you have read, engage in some conversation, some inter table inclusion, ignore that boyfriend who is just to stupid to even acknowledge your existence unless he wants to get laid or have his laundry done, me i'll stimulate your mind and body and i do my own laundry.

not enough time, hours slip away, so much happening at once, all i want is a moment to breath but a moment comes at a high price, there's always some hidden cost, bills, fines, excess fees, penalties, the whole system is designed to strip you from your wage, what's the fucking point?
you go to work and the state takes your wage due to some weird arrangement, if it's not the state sucking up their %age it's some dodgy buisness, like, NETGEAR, a router service that has ripped me off numerous times due to selling me a crap product. NETGEAR. do not buy their products readers, utter crap and very poor support which they charge you for. and if any wanker from the company has the balls to contact me i'd like $90 refunded for crap support plus $110 for a crappy router that never really worked.

you get home late, you light the candles, you put lou reed 'take no prisoners' on the cd and smoke a joint to ease some pain from a torn toe nail you had to deal with earlier, you here the chords, the voice the words and you travel in time, in a small cafe or club, new york city, when smoking was cool before they cleaned it up and made it nice for the shoppers and the sex in the city film crew and the wall street criminals and the fucking designer people started sucking the soul and replaced it with glamour, yeah they rounded the corners and the city lost it's edge but here, right now, at mission control, here's a little taste of the poet of nyc, mr.lou reed chatting to his audience on 'take n prisoners.'

Man, they sure don't sell speed like THIS in the private-schools I'VE been to:

"The best lack all conviction, and the worst are filled with a passion and intensity, now you figure out which I am!"

"Fuck Radio Ethiopia man, I'm Radio Brooklyn! I ain't no snob, man!!"

"Did any of you see the Academy Awards? Man, fucking Barbara Streisand comes out and says 'I wanna thank all the little people' - man, FUCK her and her little people! I only like BIG people! Fuck tall people and short people man, I like middle people! People from Wyoming! You ever meet somebody from Wyoming? Not me! Anyway..."

"Sorry we're late, it's raining out. What do you mean it's raining out, we know it's fucking raining out!"

"Boyfriend! Can't you fucking hear? What's the matter with you!"

"..and Jane, she's just a little-bitty clerk. Hey clerk! Gimme good clerk! I give good clerk!"

"So, what's wrong with cheap, dirty jokes? Nobody ever said I was tasteful! I'm not tasteful!"

"Oooh mama, Gimme some make-believe love! Hey, I like that. "Make Believe Love". That's gonna be an album title. Quick, write it down Michael, I fuckin' might forget it!"

"...and they save up their money, and their fucking nickels and their dimes, and pretty soon they've got a nest-egg. Here comes the condominium - UH! Shit! Hey Miami! They're sitting there by the fire, it's an electric fire man, you plug it in. I like make-believe fire, I like make-believe love too!"

"Hey, better watch it now! There's only one time and one time only to vote. Hey, the march of the wooden soldiers - ya ever put a quarter in one of those machines? Y'know, the bear that plays basketball? Ya put a quarter in. Uh-huh. I guess you never put a quarter in me, huh?! Some people say I'm residue."

"Where were you on the list when they called you for Vietnam?! UH! HEY MAN, FOR VIETNAM! Are you political Lou? Political about what? Give me an issue, I'll give you a tissue, you can wipe my ass with it."

"We're just here to make out. You bend over, I'll put the head in. If you don't like it, then we'll talk about it. Face north, Jack! Are we being broadcast tonight?"

"If you write as good as you talk, nobody reads you."

"What do I look like? Penny Youngman up here?"

"Y'know I found my wife in the living room with a Volkswagen, they said 'How'd you find her', I said, 'took a right at the kitchen', ain't that funny heh heh heh?"

"You know those pretty women are the only ones who faint, and that those villains only - SHUT UP YOU!"

"Watch me turn into Lou Reed right before your very eyes! (bang) "UHHH!"

"The way I figure it, I do Lou Reed better than anybody, so I thought I'd finally get in on it."

This is all within the first six minutes, sweet jane. the rest of the cd is peppered with lou talking about whatever comes to mind, he's got a great band behind him, improvising, a totally live cd, no overdubs, you can hear people chatting, requesting 'rock and roll' but you know lou is no fans monkey, he's not going to play rock and roll for you, no tonight we get some nyc attitude, home turf, you can hear those musicians play, you can hear it in his voice. i love this cd, it's the most amazing experience, it;s smart, it has comedy and tragedy and for those that can listen all the way through it has spirit. there's nothing banal or produced about this. there's no hit single or radio friendly, it's unfriendly and anti social, it spits in the face of mediocrity. it makes me feel like i am alive.

the greatest occult secret is that all magickal events occur as a process, initiation is the first degree and can occur at any time in one's lifetime, or not. the secret schools are hidden, they are not institutions or physical, they exist on another realm but their events are filtered down onto the material plane,

(there are four kabbalistic worlds. in basic terms there is the one of creation the highest world, then the one of non duality, pure conciousness and potential, then there is the world of creation where ideas are born, then the formative world where ideas form into more than just the idea, the blueprint and plan, and lastly the material where they manifest.)

from initiation there are various grades the magickian needs to attain, in physical magickal schools such as the goden dawn or the iot or the oto the grades are sequenced and follow a linear path however the one fundamental point that i have discovered through research is that the grades do not occur in sequence and these skools have got it wrong. it is notheless a process and it occurs after initiation.
so if one is initiated at an age of 15 or 16 over the next forty or fifty years depending on the skill of the magickian one could have reached magus. all one needs to do is map the pattern of magickal events to ones life and relate them to each stage of a magickians path, then explore the idea of re arranging them in the sequence and collecting the set. once you have them it's a matter of application. do what thou wilt.

the first thing people see about me is my dark skin, i used to be considered black in australia, when i was the only dark guy on the street, people used to say i was black. in london no one ever thought i was black, black friends knew i was not black, in fact when i lived in canada i lost all my pigmentation and was quite pale, same in berlin, on my travels i was never considered black, but here in australia 22 years ago i was a black man. imagine this reality being imposed upon you when you have never really had it before, it was strange because i never really was hung up on peoples colours or stuff but over the years it began to irritate me that people fixate on this point about me. then when i had dreads it became even worse, everyone thought i was a musician from jamaica. at the time i was running a brokerage program for people with disabilities, the first of it's kind in australia. anyways eventually i just accepted the idea of being black. simultaneously to this is the fact i am jewish, which is strange because i never really thought of myself as jewish because despite being brought up in a jewish family as soon as i left home i never considered myself religious. however just as people create a reality about me being black they do about me being jewish. mostly it's negative.
mostly people accept i can be black, i mean that stares them in the face i guess but being jewish is like being a fucking leper. it's not something i advertise but not something i deny. most people have already relayed their anti semitic comments towards me before they know, it happens all the time. sometimes even with people that i have known for a long time, they will start harping on about jewish people or israel or some weird conspiracy theory about giant lizards and jews.'your not like that.' they add, hoping that their words somehow are diminished by this frame.
i usually mention how it is not the first time jews were compared to animals, the last person managed to convince the whole german public that the jews were rats (quite literally) and needed to be exterminated. he managed to kill 6 million but unfortunately some got away only to hear a new theory that jews are actually giant lizards 60 years later.
being somewhat older and wiser i usually start behaving like a lizard when i hear this, eye's bulge, tongue flicks out, i move slow and tilt my head, sometimes i lay on a sun soaked rock but mostly i tell the exponents of these ideas that they are possibly bigoted morons who need a good dose of lithium or electro shock treatment.
most of the people that talk about these subjects are well educated middle class folks who generally also hate capitalism and yet some how manage to drive around in bmws and drink expensive wines and live in quite large homes.
i guess what i'm saying here is my identity when it's stripped down in front of people by their judgements and classifications is i am a black jew. if i was gay i'd get the trifecta and possibly a grant from the government.
the only truly multi cultural place i have seen where it works is israel. because at the end of the day, it's never about skin but ideology, the countries of the future will be defined by their ideology, islam already has most of the middle east and eurabia, the capitalists have north and middle america and the socialists have the south america and bits of europe, the dictators have north korea. eventually islam will destroy israel because the one thing israel has that islam cannot tolerate is diversity.
so i am publicly black, that's difficult to keep private, i'm selectively jewish (i chose who i share that with) and i am a magus, a magickian. (i very rarely share this with anyone) these are the facts. this is the truth. black jew magus (not in any particular order)

so know what, who your dealing with and everything will be cool.
these are my thoughts for the day.

i'm a fucking black jew magus and i'm proud.

conspirisy theory, look for a pattern, connect the dots, get a picture force a circle into a square. most people who have consiracy threories come across as spiritual, let me tell you now that a spiritual person dosn't waste their time with consiprisy theories.

there's a guy i work with who asked me straight out over the phone, 'are you a magickian?'
'yes.' i said. 'that's exactly what i am.'
he said this becuase he was about to phone me when i rang him for some work related issue, he literally jusy went to the phone and it rang.

i'd spoken to this guy a few times, he was reding a book about tibetian meditation, we talked a little. the other conversations he started going on about jews, israel and the usual stuff. he said he wanted smash israel and israelis and i just listened and thought to myself, jesus if i had a dollar for every time some one said that to me.
the other time he spoke to me he said, 'they must being paying you to much.'
his comment was directed at my car.
now this is a guy who dosn't know me at all, has really no contact with me outside of a few minites in total.
anyways last week we had this conversation and today he followed up on it, as i knew he would.
'so tell me about this magick?'
'well there's nothing to say.'
'i hope your on the white side.'
'no man i don't belive in white sides.'
in somewhat agressive tones, 'so you think it's okay for anyone to do anything?'
'that's not what i said.'
'what do you belive in?'
'nothing.'
then he went on about his tibetian buddism and his medattive practice. then realising i wasn't immpressed asked me why i didn't belive in white magick.
'i don't see the world in dualistic terms.'
'how do you do that?'
'training, disipline.'
'i can't do that, i do good, the buddists call it noble deeds.'
i give him a brief history of the bon tibetians and their war like history and invasion of china and then ask him how he understands the laws of karma, how does his tiny mind which cannot get around the concept of duality can he hope to fathom the mechanics of karma.
he recognises that i am not the dumb freak he thought i was, there's a flicker of fear in his eyes, he's backing off now, keeping a distance, he mumbles something about needing a master, and do i follow any master.
'no,' i say, 'i don't belive in masters.'

it's a slow day as agent stone, the baby blob known as kia and i drive into the city for some fun and games at the markets, agent stone is buying up baby toys at a phenomenal rate, i'm flabbergasted at the shining, beeping, rattling, furry, fuzzy, toys she gets, weighed down with bags of these things, a baby and negotiating the swarm of chinese shoppers we weave towards the spice market where i stock up on my spices and herbs. at the fish market i spontaneously buy a big fish, some sort of red sea beast with pink bits.
i look at a remote controlled helicopter and ponder if i really need one, it would keep me entertained in my autistic fixations but it's expensive and somewhat decedent, i mean do i really need a helicopter?
these are the thoughts that buzz around my head for the next hour, then the blob and i share an unexpected cute moment that's slightly disturbing. i travel home in the passenger seat looking at the shadows cast by the trees, the moon hangs in the sky, it's 1430 and the sky is blue.

captain mission



peas from the pod




the shadow of the beast

captain mission awake at the crack of dawn, strode on down the hall and puts his boots on, walking the dog, doing his duty, i throw the ball, he fetches it. i drink coffee and read papers he waits by my side, perfect. when i get home i feed him his breakfast, three large steaks, very happy dog.
then a long hot shower before heading to the city with azr where i buy a lou reed cd called 'take no prisnors' it is the best live album ever, i have it on vinyl, l and spent about 17 years looking for the cd version, as it was never released as a double disc, they released it with half the set missing.
this cd is gold, it is the most intimate recording of a man at his peak, his musicians are amazing, accomplished and polished jazz elements with some incredible be bop harmonies, i recall listening to this feeling like i was in this tiny club in nyc watching the gig. reed would start a song and suddenly half way through would launch into a rave or rant, he took no prisoners, everyone was on a level field, he's rude, vitriolic and witty. then he'd seque back into the songs, outstanding performance, my fave live cd ever. a lot of people just don't get lou reed, just listen to this cd, his song writing is incredible but his execution and technique is masterful, the words of a writer not an entertainer although it's a stand up comedy routine along the lines of lenny bruce.

yeah wandering the botanical gardens with a good friend is the perfect day, blue skies and beautiful plants and trees, a wonderful harbour sprawling out as a backdrop, it don't get better than this, then an maple ice cream and now we are cooking with gas, wandering around the rocks, coffee in some nice little alleyway cafe we invent the mugolatte. i see some aborigional dancer and music that is incredible and profoundly moving, gives me goose bumps.

i'm home to fix up my airport connection, no more internet woes but i get distracted, the sun disappears and being somewhat vampyric after dark i have no electric lights, so i ponder the stars outside, walking with pan, making a plan for tomorrow.
rejoice things are getting better.

the morning is drenched in combat rain, i’m out and about fixing up banking, bills and various other things i find mundane, i force myself to like it, to actually make the experience brilliant but it requires a lot of energy and effort, my socks are wet, there’s no amount of positive thinking that can make that into an enjoyable experience. later i’m on hold for 20 mins in a complex recorded message that chews me up and spits me out in some kind of weird loop of fembot voices, choices, options, and instructions. eventually i get to where i need to be, chores done.
i head over to azr who is in cute pajamas and looks quite kissable. it’s her birthday soon but i’m a renound premature congratulator so i came bearing gifts. outside i notice a little window of blue skies, a pocket of hope, i really don't like rain.
on a whim we decide to go to the movies, ‘animal kingdom’ and australian crime story. normally i’m not a lover of australian cinema, i like rolf de heer’s work but i have to admit the rest of it is somewhat stale, unimaginative and colloquial.
animal kingdom is remarkable, it’s very very good. go see it.
we both emerged from the cinema somewhat shell shocked, not quite expecting it to be that good.
later we watch a quaint movie on azr computer, it's set in city island new york, some sort of rom com, a soft option to round of a nice day.
i love movies, seeing a good one is so satisfying and azr is a good companion to watch movies with, that's a good prerequisite for a friend in my book, happy birthday sister. our wild days are behind us it's time for pronoia.

i'm hearing voices, yeah singing, like angels. every morning around three am i wake up to this sound, it's like a chorus of girls whispering far away, the sound waves carry across the night, and i try to tune in but only hear faint chorus of whispers, fleeting like smoke.
last night i actually got out of bed and wandered out on the balcony wrapped in a sarong and t shirt, it was freezing but these strange songs had held me transfixed, even pan could hear them, his ears twitching. we wandered out the front, following the sound, i don't know, we walked for a while, i was so cold, goose bumps everywhere but the sound was so alluring and seductive, it was soft and haunting and my curiosity was taking over my sense of reason.
starts splattered above, the trees looked like nerve endings, there was a sound of some nocturnal animal but always the whispers, calling me, never really getting closer, and i figured as i came to the ocean that i would just turn around around go back when i saw the most strangest of sights, standing in the water, all at different levels, about thirty women, all in white, etheric in the soft moonlight, all singing in some mystical harmony.
i strained for the words, i could make out some,

captain mission
captain mission,
here's a cosmic transmission,
from your angels and guardians
spirits and guides
we love you
we love you
we love you so much
we love you
we love you
because you love us
captain mission
captain mission
here's some information
from your god and goddess
the host and seraphim
we love you
we love you
we love you so much
we love you
we love you
because you dare to dream

then they kinda faded away and i found myself wandering back with pansy, thinking what the fuck.

apparently every one is depressed as australia lost in some football match. mmm i'd say sports is the opium of the masses, from ye olde roman times sports was a political distraction, while the emperors were lording it up, conducting orgies and conquering far off lands funded by the tax payer, building large mansions to accommodate their wealth and pretending to be a democracy they held sports events, blood soaked gladiatorial battles where the masses would watch and roar like a frenzied pack of wolves, they would be distracted in the real agendas, the subtle manipulation of their will. it's an ancient strategy, the herd mentality. the brainwashed tribes overwhelmed by passion are easy to control, easy to distract, it's all smoke and mirrors, a grand spectacle on a large plasma or if your unlucky enough to see a live sports event then in some huge arena where the individual is obliterated by the crowd, where the crowd is subjected to the laws of crowds and the laws of crowds negate the individuals right to think individually.
when i rule the world all sports will be non competitive, there will be no government funds poured into sports, just health, yoga, meditation, surfing, swimming, chess, tai chi etc, all these events would have a participation factor no spectator value and corporate money would not be used. it would be part of a health budget. no teams, no winners, no losers.
if your good at the activity you get to be good at the activity, no medals of symbols of superiority, my citizens would have enough self resect and self esteem not to rely on such tools. it's an inner knowledge, one that value when it's not perceived to be prowess or power. it's humility and grace. the anthesis of the sporting arena where it's money and recognition, ego and pride.
yeah come the day.

okay, i'm on a loosing streak, not the first time, i'm receiving my karmic debits, for my bad attitudes, my strange sexual peccadilloes, a love for mind expansion and cosmic interfering, an addiction to internet porn and possibly speeding while driving, an inability to conceede authority, a lack of compassion to the ignorant and a straying from the buddist truth of nature, enlightenment, what is it good for?
the solution lies in creativity, giving the cosmic pranksters some kind of offering, via sacrificial process, sexual tantra or some kind of energy transference.
good deeds are for sophomores.
the biggest challenge is my new ego, which i've become very fond off, it's a harder, older, a slightly bitter one but i wear it well, cranky and some what anti social, don't suffer fools, socialists or hippies very well, yes i have a fondness for that punk attitude, the one that pushes all the buttons, the sneerer of moronic byronic bay types, give me a girl with a dragon tattoo and we will hack the universe together. the meek can get fucked.
so thus begins my program, three months of disipline. see you on the other side.

driving along at midnight listening to groove armada at high volumes, a hidden police car starts emerging from the bushes, he's flashing me and siren on so i pull over.
he's clocked me on his zap gun radar at 100ks, that's 30 over the limit. he writes me a ticket and because it's a long weekend i'm double fucked.
'don't you ever get tired of it?' i say.
'tired.'
'yeah of the whole system, writing people tickets and collecting cash for the government, revenue raising instead of stopping crimes.'
'it's my job.'
'yeah i understand but don't you ever question your role?'
'no i just do my job.'
'like an android following out it's programming.'
'your not in a position to get cheeky.'
'no i understand that, i'm just communicating with you, i'm interested in why a man feels his sense of duty is unwavering.'
'look if you want to make a complaint there's a procedure.'
'no i'm not complaining, you busted me, i 'm guilty, i'm just asking you why you follow orders when you know they are crap.'
'speeding kills people, i'm saving them,'
'no you're making them poorer and the state government some quick cash to pay your wages, therefore i am paying your wages.
'that's a very simplistic view.'
'but it's not wrong.'
he's looking at me like i'm some piece of shit he's wiped of his boots, but i continue figuring i've not much else to loose. he's a spotty teenager, no experience, probably never lived alone, mum does his washing.
'if i pay your wages, i'm your boss.'
'indirectly.'
'well then as your boss i'm asking you not to issue me with a speeding fine.'
'ha, your kidding right.'
'nope.'
'look if you want to make things difficult i can fine you for having a bad attitude.'
'your fired officer.'


fucking hell, 400 dollars, 8 points.
when will it end?

tramping through mission control i'm looking for a book. now this is akin to looking for a needle in a haystack, because mission control is stacked full of volumes, here there and everywhere. so i'm negotiating the stacks that form a maze, attempting to start in some logical point of order but abandoning myself to the randomness of it, i come across some stories i wrote, each one seemed to be about a particular woman i was involved with. each story has a different feel and i found myself travelling along my memories getting the kind of idea that perhaps it's possible to compile a book of short stories about ex girlfriends. maybe i will post some up here and see what happens.
another old manuscript i found was a first draft of a novel i wrote about 14 years ago, again a true story but a very dark one, a complex one to read and to write. but that's there, almost finished, it just needs an editor to tidy it up, some chopping around and reorganising, it's a film i tell you, a brilliant film in waiting.
anyways i never found the book i was looking for. it's upset me.
so at work i took the clients to 'vivid', a festival lou reed is curating in sydney and it's on the harbour, lots of nice lights, costumes, people wandering around with kids, music and the smells of cooking, the people all seem happy in their scarves and hats, lots of tourists and colour. but it dosn't really do much for me, i'm a grumpy disillusioned old man. i look at the fire dancers and secretly wish they would ignite, i look at the woman dancing in a black suit with light bulbs and hope she gets electrocuted, the juggler, mmm let's see, maybe he will fall backwards into the water or one of those stick things will fall onto his head and knock him out, those clowns on stilts should topple over and squash some pensioners out for the night, maybe the light shows projected on the buildings will malfunction and melt all the buildings like some weird simpsons cartoon, maybe baby.
i want to go home and sleep for a thousand years.

when i stumbled across agenda 21, i knuckled down to research, i mean you can't take on any half baked conspiracy theory just because it has some internet exposure, you have to check your facts and do your research, so check it out, have a look, see why i rant and rave about the socialist agenda, see why i spend hours pondering the dumbing down and indoctrination of the population, see why i loathe the united nations who are akin to the nazi party as far as freedom goes, and see why i remain committed to individuality and libertarianism over any other bullshit ideal or ideology.
are you a free spirit or a fucking brainwashed zombie?
i've decided that no longer will i tolerate the zombie classes, no longer will i ignore or suffer the fools, nope from now on i will load up my double barrel shot gun and shoot them in the heads.

at $50000 a week it was an expensive proposition but when your fucked up on narcotics and haven't slept in weeks, your eye's hanging from their own sockets bloodshot and lifeless because your living like a vampire and dying like a modern tragedy in cheap hotels every morning chances are desperation will push you towards desperate propositions. i can't remember checking in, it may or may not have been voluntary but i recall waking up in an unfamiliar room, someone standing over me talking about group work, breakfast and some kind of appointment with the social worker.
i dragged myself, more dead than alive through the motions.
anyways breakfast was some fruit i couldn't eat, not my normal cigarettes, coffee and a couple of lines, no this reeked of nutrition and my guts didn't like it. i must have eaten a quarter of a banana and taken a sip of some awful bright drink that must have been fresh orange juice when i looked around and noticed about six or seven others at the table, all equally dishevelled and unhealthy, all looking somewhat like they had better places to be.
some one mumbled something and i mumbled back, it was a strange language half recognisable.
i scanned the room to see who would be carrying but this place was run by professionals. my eye's met a another set of eye's and for a moment we read one another, yeah two bad seeds looking for a quick fix.desperation meets desperation, a glimmer of hope met with the probability of failure cancelling each other out and somehow there is an strange attraction, an silent equilibrium.
we had about 30 mins before the group session so i made a mental calculation, weighed up the options on an invisible internal scale of justice, where i was the defence, prosecutor and magistrate, sneaked out the door past the nurse and crept along a corridor past a poster advertising condoms, past a plush expensive desk and good looking blonde receptionist with soft make up who was on the phone talking about her two timing boyfriend. 'i'd never two time you baby,' i thought or maybe whispered.
my hands were shaking, i had the jones bad. i needed a cigarette if i were to attend group therapy i'd need a fucking strong coffee and a smoke, anything, whatever you have, just to feel something instead of this numbness, this fucking horrific pain that crept along my life like an evil shadow waiting for me to slip away.
i was almost near the exit when they came along, two staff members talking about where they should have lunch, i dived into the nearest open door and waited, they moved out through the double doors marked exit and as i peered out catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror, looking like a train wreck, half my face covered in a big purple bruise and my front tooth missing, i had bad skin, bad hair and a bad feeling in my guts, i could see the doors swing open and get ready to swing back. i jumped out as they disappeared and quickly followed them, waiting a few seconds until the coast was clear, then moved through and found myself outside being blinded by the sun.
it was crippling, photons had disabled me as i staggered forwards with my hands covering my face, jesus fucking christ i screamed, and this time i did scream.
some one grabbed my head and slipped some glasses on. 'try these,' a feminine voice said.
instant calm, the panic over i gazed at her, she was smoking a marlborough and drinking what looked to be a whiskey, she was wearing a cowboy hat and looking like a cross between marilynn monroe in the misfits and an evil angel, sitting back on her chair she tossed me a pack of smokes and a bottle of pills, 'take the edge off,' she sucked down some smoke and blew a few smoke rings.
lighting up, i unscrewed the bottle and swallowed a handful of the pills, 'thanks.' i threw them back, she caught them and slipped them into her handbag.
'your new huh?'
'yeah i just woke up here, can't remember anything, how i got here. they say i have to go to group therapy, what the fucks that mean?'
'it means you get to share your demons with your comrades.'
'oh shit.'
'yeah, better get used to it, every day twice a day you will be naked before seven or eight strangers who will be staring at your soul.'
'sounds fucking awful, i'm going to need something stronger than valium.'
she reached into her purse and pulled out a foil.
i leaned forwards to take it but she dropped it into her bag.
'maybe if you do good in group.'
'fuck it.' i move over to the balcony, past the steps leading down onto the street, ' where the fuck is this place?'
'la. it's on the map.'
'mmm, your a smart one huh?'
she looks at me and passes me her glass. it's whiskey, single malt, straight. 'cheers' i say and down it like a shot.
when i breath out i feel different, the edge smoothed over, 'yeah i'm ready for group. thank you...'
she smiles and we walk back together down the corridor, past the receptionist, past the dining room, into the therapy room, where my peers sit around in chairs in a circle, and the two vacant seats are filled.
thee's a moment of silence, the bad seeds look at one another, then my friend with the drugs and booze says, 'thank you for coming here, we should begin. i'm azr your social worker...'
my jaw would have dropped but it's got a permanent grin stretched across it.

days merge, the blend into the next in a sequence of fringe events, i can see the horizon, a mushroom cloud, it looks pretty spectacular as civilisation starts to implode on itself, i look to the stars, i look to the seas, i look to the heart and what do i see, blood on the streets in the town of (fill in yourself) and an angry crowd of people with hostile words and evil intent, i see a govt. failing, economy sliding, being sucked into the spiderweb domino effect of the globalised stupidity, i see the authority ponder population reduction, i see the human genome being owned by the multicorp pharmaceutical company, i see the oceans turn red, the pointless media shuffle, the rhetoric of ideologies, i see your money being worthless and your gold a gleaming rock of mineral, i see your home sinking into the dust burnt down by savages with matches and some twisted sense of justice, i see the strange aircraft delivering smart bombs, the high streets of your city are combat zones, the heavey atrillery is a chardonay socialist stuffing his face with a free range chicken and imported belgium chocolates, as he lectures on the evils of capitalism, he drives his bmw straight into his hypocrisy, where his wife who hates him opens her legs for him but closes her eyes, this is the future hate triumphs over reason, evolution inverts itself, survival of the dumbest, the strongest are clubbed to death, the smartest delegitimised as public opinion swerves into a cul de sac at a 1000 miles an hour with a jackknifed articulated truck up ahead, the brainwashed hordes of zombies and newspaper fed androids all bleating the same bleat, all seeing the same thing, like some globalised thought process they want blood as long as it's from the successful, enterprising, the strong, the smart, the independent, the free. there are those tat follow fashion, those that create it, those that care and those that don't and then there are those that know it's a fucking control mechanism, but mostly people follow the fashion, the zeitgeist, the trends, the polls, their operating instructions, their programming, twisting the past, history repeats, propaganda wears many coats, a chameleon in wolfs clothing, the destruction of a civilisation for the sake of some primal impulse, some weird jealous notion, maybe some envy or maybe just an irrational fear and loathing that goes back thousands of years, maybe i see you in the crowd, maybe its true evil is when good people do nothing, maybe that includes thinking critically and getting the evidence, maybe it's just the way the cards fall, your on one fence me on another, your a believer but i see a deceiver, your a peace maker but i see a warmonger, your a peoples person but i see seething mass of rage and un-fulfilment, you're a progressive but i see a primitive and i see through the slick slimy campaign trail of distortion and lies the evidence is there for any open minded individual but it takes a great man to stand up and admit he's mistaken, i see the dead fish eye glaze of irrational fury, i see the open wound of your crash test dummy heartbeat, i see the sound over your noise, i see the picture over your static, i know my own self where as you fear yours and the result is the white flags of the innocents being laughed at by the idiots with ideas that belong in the stone age.
oh! that's where we are now.
yugoslavia 1941 history repeats itself because of stupid people.
civilisation rip

The ideological Leftist is always an egotist. The self-esteem resulting from perceiving oneself as pure, good and right is the very air they breathe. Leftists have an absolute imperative to think the very best of themselves. This means that any negative impulse from below the threshold of consciousness must be repressed and denied access to conscious awareness, lest it disturbs the image of purity so strongly valued by the ego-self.

One of the unconscious methods by which the mind deals with such repression is called projection, whereby the disturbing “evil” impulse or feeling is accepted into awareness only on the condition that it is projected (like a film onto a screen) onto some external source. The object upon which the negative feelings are projected is then denounced as the true source of evil, which keeps the ego self-image pure and untainted.

The best objects for such projections are those closest to, but not identical with, the self – in the Leftists’ case one’s own culture becomes the best screen for projections. Thus we have the Western Leftist program for the destructive “critique” of their own history and philosophy.

So in the universities we see curricula based on denunciations of our evil past, such as charges of genocide in the colonies, and the amplification of “evidence” for destructive racism and sexism. The Leftist’s culture now conveniently takes all the blame and their ego (below which the denied troubling impulses still murmur) is protected, immune from all taint.

The Leftist is developmentally stunted, fixated in a psychology of defensive projection for the sake of self-esteem. Only a growth in consciousness can change this situation. The ego, however, resists this growth at every turn. But perhaps a painful encounter with reality might effect this necessary growth.

is there a limit to caring, love and compassion. i think i reached mine, i'm getting very non compassionate to the idiots i encounter, in the press, media, on the streets, in fact i feel like shaking them and then punching them on the nose and saying, 'wake up you fucking zombie.'
that's the problem, there are so many zombies out there. they have no brains of their own and they want to eat mine.
socialists and fascists are the worst kind of zombies in my opinion. then come sports people.

go to visit my friend who is in manly east wing a psychiatric unit, where she has been sectioned.
she doesn't belong there really, she's going through a process known as emergence and just lost her way. i was the last person to see her lucid and i attempted to give her some structure to navigate her way through. but about 9 hours later she was lost and the result is she was taken into hospital.
when i saw her she was very lucid and although had been given some tranquillisers knew exactly what she was going through and why she was there. she seemed fine although at one point she said 'i was the most powerful person she knew and that i was brilliant.'
i was somewhat taken aback, people in mental hospitals saying these kind of things would take any one aback, but i know what she means in the context of my own reality. however i am not creating hers. she seems to think i have secret insight into the universe which i do, but it's my own and pertains to me and me alone. i stressed to the lady in question, do not attach significance to anything anymore, as she was descending into mania and schizophrenia, getting messages from randomness. this is the realm of madness, i warned. not knowing when to stop.
obviously she didn't and it took her to where she is.
strange but true.
windows of universal intelligence are just that, windows and doors, they open but they also close and if one is not intuitively in synch with them when they close one can get locked out. this takes a lot of discipline and work, intuition is a highly sensitive instrument that can easily be led astray. institutions are filled with people who are locked out or in from the consensus reality, the one in which all spiritual truth is tested.
'chop that wood, carry that water.'
enlightenment, what is it good for?

creeping malaise, underlying depression, complex thoughts, everything squeezed through the eye of a needle, entry to heaven is open for the rich and thin but not the poor and fat, messages coming in from angelic realms, complications of the soul, the spirit needs revival. post trip blues, ha not really just a need to get stuck into something profound and stimulating, and i'm getting an urge to write a book, the book, it's the last one any one expects, it's the story every one is waiting for, it's emerging, after i think of the greatest opening lines...

for the writer of a novel the opening line requires the most consideration. two of my fave books have my fave opening lines, is this coincidence? i don't really believe in chance, i think that it makes perfect sense that the opening line will effect the rest of the story, as the first imprint if written with gravity will impress upon the reader for the rest of the novel.
when i was 14 i read the three books that would influence me the most, two paperbacks that to this day made the biggest impression and influenced me in both style and content. they have the best opening lines ever written and i defy anyone to come up with something equally as good or as powerful.
nineteen eighty four by george orwell starts with the surreal and brilliant line, "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
what does that imply, that he sets the scene for a novel in an environment that is not quite the one we are familiar with, with a seasonal atmosphere invoking brisk english springs and then suddenly everything is out of whack, but it's not so sudden is it, it is for us as we just read the words but if we inhabit them it's starts with the first of 12 chimes, and then that extra one, the 13th that sends everything spiralling into the awful future.
the other great opening is hunter s thompsons', "we were somewhere around barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.'
it's a brilliant line, powerful and strong, the spirit of adventure and the landscape of america, and all you want to know are what drugs?
the last book from that period i recall is kafkas metamorphosis which begins, '"as gregor samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect."
all i could think was imagine that, waking up and finding yourself an insect. what a strange start to a story, shocking, slightly frightening and somewhat disturbing.
yes the opening words to a novel should representative of the novel itself, it should have the totality of the whole book within it, like the seed.

heading over to amalia, i feel i should be bearing a gift, i'm to wasted to organise anything, i'd like to come by smoke a joint and sleep with you but i'm just a mess at the moment, travelling on auto pilot, on the slipstream of a big trip and a new reality.
i can't get my brain out of gear and i can't seem to jump start, although a little bit of sun has made a big bit of difference.
we look at photo's her adventures, a holiday, a trip, strange shots of trans america, out of focus, blurred neon, drinks, i see her trail, lost clothes, wrecked marriages, crocodiles and alligators, passerby's, lonely guys with hangovers, music festivals, smiling faces, happy people, strange hollywood highs and lows, fun while it lasts, till the teardrop falls. it did look like a lot of fun but we are both older now, it takes it's toll, there is always a price. it's good being with her, at the moment she's about as real as it gets for me. everything else is out of reach as it barely even seems to based in material existence. we talk about our mothers, both very complex and difficult, amalia is taking hers on the journey to heal themselves, i can't, it's the fork in the road for me, i'm letting go of that and travelling away.
i miss jake, he's at the back of my mind, always.
i have nothing much to give anyone anymore, i feel empty, i want to close my eyes and sleep deeply and meet you in a dream.

in torrential rain i am driving in the pod heading to a suburb to buy some supplies, the small village where amalia lives is submerged and a lone figure stands in the middle of the road attempting to cross, she is drenched by cars passing and the rain.
the world outside is waterlogged and reflects my moods. my friends are in rehab or in psych wards, my inspiration is low, my energy is low, my motivation is low. the horizon is blurred and distorted, there must be a way out.
i have dinner with evan and leanne, god i love both of you, what friends, absolutely brilliant, i feel so in debt to your generosity and hospitality, wow, you guys are brilliant and one day i hope i will be able to do something for you.
we watch the movie moon, directed by david bowies son, it's very good. i feel a bit like i'm on the moon, a watery one, everything submerged and desolate. my dreams are strange and elemental, there's a sadness within them, a loss.
the day is slow, it drags but it holds the promise of something as sun breaks through and blue skies pierce the darkness.
blue skies, baby's got blue skies.

disproportinality is the big crime israel is always accused off, yet when hamas demand several hundred pisonrs for one israeli solder, this is never mentioned as disproportionate by anyone. this continuous unchallenged claim that Israeli must always act ‘proportionally’ is shouted out by evereyone. but what this means always goes unsaid. For example, when terrorists were randomly raining missiles down on Israel should Israel merely have taken an equivalent amount of ordnance and rained it randomly on gaza? In this recent case should Israel have simply sent hordes of IDF to the ship until they outnumbered the terrorists 10 to one and proceed to bludgeon them with metal polls and chains?
it's difficult for average citizens outside israel to understand the intricacies of the situation and what it means for the people who live in israel as the media is so one sided to the point of propaganda. the security of a nation must be insured, it's a fundamental human right. the last ship israel boarded contained a massive shipment of weapons from iran, no one seemed to worried about that.
it's very obvious that intentions of these peace protesters was to create an international situation where israel could once again be delegitimised by the rest of the islam appeasing world, the facts are thrown out the window with logic and reason. as for paul mcgeough from the smh i'm sure his palestinian girlfriend would be pleased to have him home home. the smh don't tell you about that do they?

a few days ago i had coffee with a friend, the high priestess who i have not seen for a few months. we met in a strange coffee shop where i would normally never go, it was great seeing her and suddenly in the middle of our chat i noticed a woman opposite me, middle aged, quite average, alone drinking a coffee. on her foot was a black mark, that as i looked formed hebrew letters, three letters in large black print. it was quite strange and i felt compelled to ask this stranger what her tattoo meant.
unconditional love she said. she said she had no knowledge of the language but she liked the shape, she didn't even know it was hebrew.
interesting,

israel. i guess i should say something about the current situation. but what can i say. a boat load of peace activists who are also turkish terrorists identified by denmark carrying weapons and chanting 'kill the jews' refuse attempts to deliver the goods after inspection, refuse attempts to stop them entering a blockade that exists for a very good reason then attacks soldiers who board it. one solider is thrown from the ship, others attacked with knives and clubs. in the skirmish some of these peace activists were killed, the world cries out at israel.
it's the same old story over and over, after 60 years israel still has to justify it's own existence and it's right to defend it's citizens.
the idiots and hypocrites in the left wing, the islamo-fascists and their appeasers all out there marching and rioting, all writing endless amounts of drivel, rewriting a history, tweaking the facts, distorting the truth, this always happens when israel is involved. it's a sick sad joke that has lasted to long. when will governments of the world let israel defend itself, when will they protect israel from attacks from gaza as they do these twisted hate crazed zombies, they won't. why?
because the fading economies of europe bailed out by saudi money needs to hate as it always has, the islamic population that have infected every facet now control foreign policy linked with it's nazi history, have a large agenda which could be conceived as an interest rate and the terrible truth is dawning on those brave enough to see through the smog of this forever war.

christopher hitchens
melanie phillips
greg shehan
daniel pipes
robin shepard

some of the more balanced perceptions on the story.

information, he who controls the information controls the world so they say. this is the truth, we know that the world is run by multi nationals, a collection of energy, pharmaceuticals, banking and various arms dealers and of course the media barons. each section supports the other, much like the members of a pedophile ring. we have seen this over and over, the status quo, be it left or right remains the same, we know that the massive public consumption of internet and media has no limits, people are plugged into these things like a heroin addict plugs in to high grade smack. the masses of dumbed down media craving brains are subtly manipulated into fear by a very strategic process mapped out in the greatest novel ever, 1984.
the powers all share one unifying directive, to keep you in fear. thus all information is manipulated towards this directive as this is what keeps the media making a profit, fear and as a by product there's anxiety and anxiety brings profit for the drug companies, conflict sells papers and ammunition and arms, people spend money or save plugging into the banking models.
truth is thrown out the window, rational objectivity is replaced by emotive reactionary subjectivity and there goes the truth.
examples of this are the irrational misrepresentation of the state of israel, flu virus, the economic collapse and bailout, the propping up of the most corrupt bureaucracy ever, the un and the massive push towards the left wing ideologies by right wing idealists. there is no longer a difference between them.
the population mass is to stupid to question anything, the average journalist has no idea how to interrogate truth in an interview because they have been dumbed down to an android state that shoves political correctness and cultural relativism down peoples throats.
yeah the human population thrives on this mis information, it sucks it up into it's hate-filled hearts and fear runs rampant, hysterical accusations are made and the enemy is always the same.
be independent, research, find your own truth, read the other side or don't, it don't really matter at the end of the day as we are all heading for the iceberg in the same leaky boat.