here i am, hip high priest of love connecting with his tribal roots, seeing out the ancestor lineage, hypnotizing chicken’s, messing with the mix, healing the psychic fractures, connecting dashes and dots, having a quick smoke at spots, drinking from the cup that runneth fullest, looking at the dirty streets with ancient names, the cleaned up streets with dirty names, the roman aqueduct lit up in several ever changing shades of musty pastels, the civilizations come and go, revolving door, same shit, different meme, some worse than others. some just sit still others move around, some kill and others are killed and some you can’t kill, but the tribe is alive and well, some things never change here on the edge of the western world in the middle east, where the northern sky takes on a new dimension from the southern cross, yes the stars are unfamiliar but the moon is the same.
one flash of light, a flicker a flame, a ghost dance with a ghostly apparition, some phantom lay in wait, others stand up and get noticed, if your not looking you will find, if your looking you will miss, if your standing near an ancient sea that is actually a lake, if your walking across the surface of the water because your a magickian amongst the spirits or a messiah from avalon nsw, if you have a holy fucking spirit and some rock and roll soul, if you have the funk and warrior heart you can do it, all it takes is a combination of no fear, no constructs holding you back, no negative energy weighing down your spirit, a light breakfast, a big grin and a good haircut, some neat robes and a decent pair of sunglasses and don’t forget the audience, lights cameras action, yeah the audience is the most important part cos every new messiah needs a pr man. but me i’m not looking for the fame and glory, no way, i can live without that ho ha and attention so early in the morning at the break of day i will be wading on down to the waterfront with john mark and matthew, taking that leap of faith and doing what i came here to do. last time i failed, i didn’t have the right sunglasses and my attitude was a bit wonky but tonight i will spend my evening in quiet contemplation, fasting and preparing my mind. tonight i will sleep well and tomorrow i will walk upon the water. and if that works i will love my enemy.

after smoking some very strong weed with michelle and noah her lovely son i made my way to the bed she had prepared, wow, king size mattress, i slipped into a strange stoned sleep that hovered between states, i focused on my breathing and must have slipped into a deep deep sleep, well needed obliteration, the float tank state, everything gone. i awoke with the sound of trance like indian music, everyone still sleeping, i wandered through the house, it's a kind of concrete building on a kibbutz in the middle of an alien landscape, warm desert wind blows in from syria, a mountain range in the distance looks like the folds of skin on a woman's thigh, the excitement of being here kinda kicked in, i sit on the deck watching the birds and listening to the jackals in the distance, there's a massive cactus opposite me and i look at it's fruit, the sabre. they make some kind of cocktail from it here, a chocolate liqueur with and orange taste. heading back indoors i see the remnants of last night, we smoked a lot of weed. micheal the tantra teacher has had a similar path to mine, we share a lot of stuff. she's about to run a workshop for 30 women and wants some help from me, i cast my mind back to the days i ran quantum sex with the professor, yeah i give her some ideas.
after a breakfast of spinach eggs, salad and figs and that amazing arab coffee i love we go for a drive down to the kinerret which is the sea of galilee, it's simply one of the most beautiful places on earth, i will attempt to walk across it tomorrow. we drive around stopping for photo's and lookout points, i get stung by a bee i stand on barefoot, the pain is searing and intense, like a hot needle in the sole but it passes quickly as i stand there grinning for a photo.
later we head home, a big almost full moon hanging in the sky, tomorrow i will meet the witch michelle says.

rode the bus solo this afternoon, needed some time out with my cousin michelle, went to hiafa which is looking good from my bus window. i asked the bus people at netanya how i could get to keriyat balik and he said jump on the bus to hiafia and change there, which i did. when i got to hiafa bus station, which incedently is lush, i asked, 'which bus? they pointed me in the right direction and i jumped on telling the guy i wanted to go to keriyat balik and showed him my ticket, he nodded his head and said yes, then i sat down and rode the bus, i gazed out the window as we followed the coastline, and on the right the city centre, but i never saw one sign or landmark that indicated keriyat balik. anyways the bus terminated and everyone got off and there was my cousin who said i was in the right spot. however this was not keriyat balik, i had got the wrong address, totally, the wrong town yet there was my cousin standing there. strangest thing ever. how had the bus drivers directed me to a totally inaccurate address and get me to the right spot anyways?
its a strange one?

i've fallen in love with tel aviv, it's become what west berlin was to me in 1987 but here in 2010 it has the same vitality, edge, culture and chaos, it pulses and throbs with missiles and bomb threats, the military presence as tanks roll by, the cute soldiers 'girls with guns', the filthy hot stink that wafts along the occasional pathway, the history screams and art galleries, the strange religious freaks, the transexuals, gays, lesbian, straights all mixed and matched, the multitudes of internationalists, the scooters, the buses the random traffic regulations, amazing food everywhere, bars clubs for anything that the mind can conjure up, the girls of tel aviv are hard edged, there's a femininity that can kill you here, it's smart and stylish and bookish and intelligent there's lot's it has to do, eat, drink, dance and fuck but it also has to stay alive and stimulated, make art and babies, love and peace and war all at the same time, the pressure is unbearable sometimes, the party is loud and has no constraints, there's so much that is ugly that the eye plays tricks, a hideous building has nice windows and angles, the noise of dance parties from the city heights, the home made bands and street performers are all refugees, a violin player on a street corner may have once played in the hungarian philharmonic, the street sweeper may be an ex russian nuclear physicist, it's all to much assaulting the sensory inputs, you need to have a working operational brain for tel aviv, it's not an alcohol city, though there are bars everywhere, all of which have suffered and paid a high price for liberating hedonistic pursuit of intellect, pleasure, sensation and art, fuck paris, london and rome, tel aviv is the city of lights cameras and action, it's fucked up and insane, with cute areas for chill out zones, there's food that tantalises, each cafe an art, there's conversation cut ups you would not believe, opinions, philosophy, ideas, memes you didn't even know where invented, there's happy children everywhere, there's 24 varieties of religious experience there's 24 kinds of hope and despair, 24 languages, there's 24 kinds of messiahs, lepers, jokers, prophets and poets, high priests and sinners. there's no patterns, no politics, no people that don't belong, no prisoners, no pretensions, no perfections and nothing to peel away, it's all there 24 hours in one day and your already gone down the rabbit hole whole, souled out but not sold out, turn on, tuned in and dropped out, here is a city for the young, not for convention, it's mentally without boundaries, a place to get high and naked and fall in love, there's no hate here, just these cute russian girls and their envious eyes, high heels, fur hats and chic jackets out prowling looking for meat and hoping to cash up as they sink their teeth into their prey, yeah tel aviv is a vampire's nightmare, there's nothing undead about this place, it's vitality plus, the energy here is dangerous, all units and their processing capacity needs to function at frequencies in the high levels, lest tel aviv chew you up, spit you out, and send you to netanya. all visitors must not panic, must not fear, tel aviv comes in peace, tel aviv is fashion central, passion central, tel aviv is the heat seekers missile. every soul is lost and found, every dog has it's day in the city of cats, it's the end of the world here in tel aviv, yeah the place to throw the last party ever.
i really like it.
the bus station has to be the worst building i have ever been in, a maze of meaningless signs, doors and walkways that lead absolutely nowhere, it's a building that houses a civilisation within a civilisation, there's escalators somewhere and elevators some where else, there's people wandering in and out and around and around, there's constant noise and traffic spirals the many levels, the scent of a bus but you never really find one, the multi levels, the multiverse, the many realms and realities all converge, this building is beyond any TARDIS, it's won't just take you through space and time it will take you further than you have ever been, spin you around like a record and toss you into hyperspace, break the speed of life, the doors of perception, the gateways and spheres, the biggest busiest bus station on planet earth is a nightmare beyond any known understanding, it's the perfect entry point to orientate yourself to tel aviv, it will wrap itself around your brain and twist it in knots like a hot buttered pretzel and somewhere in the distance as you catch a reflection of what appears to be your bus it will send you in the cosmic storm of re orientation. the time spent looking for your bus will take longer than your bus journey, you will be confused beyond confusion, it will all in some very strange yoga like way, make perfect sense.

tel aviv, israels day of indépendance, we walk towards rabin square where thousands of people all walk laughing, smiling, waving flags and wheeling their kids, it's a strange thing to have your bags checked at the entrance to the sealed of sections. this is common practice everywhere, every time, no exceptions, when you go to the mall to get a newspaper and some milk you have to undergo this ritual but most people here are happy to do it if it means some extremist with a bomb and an expectation that 72 virgins await him in heaven don't slip through. amazing that people are motivated by virginity, personally i like to know that whoever i am dealing with has some experience but there ya go.
so we line up and when the beautiful young woman in green kaki pulls out a book and a pair of sunglasses in a red case she smiles and guides me forwards into the swarm. rabin square is the name of the area they gave in memory of the prime minister yitzak rabin who was about to sign a peace treaty and then got assassinated. they have a small memorial where he was shot, and a number of bouquets and candles adorn this, however the actual plaza is a strange place, set up with a stage and lighting at one end and seats facing, surrounded by buildings designed from the worst architectural examples of the 50's 60's and 70's. thousands of people sit and stand around this plaza and martin, jake and i wait for something to happen. bob marly starts playing through the speakers, high up on the wall of one building is a massive poster of scarlett johansen about to have an orgasm, her eyes seem to be looking at mine and i find my attention caught between events on stage and scarlett, although when jakob reminds me she is the same age as he, i find myself somewhat fighting my natural dispositions.
a terrible dance troupe come on stage and cheesy music starts to blast out, a mixture of pet shop boys meets bollywood and the middle east, i sense the bombastic arrangements of queen in there as well and for the next two hours we are bombarded with the awful trauma of sitting through this nightmare. jakob and my cousins son rohee decide to go to a party so they get away early but martin and i are awaiting some friends who appear about two hours later.
this show is terrible, really cheesy and badly executed complete with an awful firework display, however around us thousands of people sing and dance and jump up and down for joy.
after we hook up with a french girl who takes us to a rooftop party, cheap vodka, a live band and plenty of people who like like extras from a woody allen movie all dancing and talking, i meet an indian professor with a glaswegian accent and we talk at length about lloyd cole and simple minds, i meet a new york beatnik who has a great beard that took hm two years to perfect, i dance with a crazy girl who keeps whacking me over the head with an inflatable hammer.
'is this some jewish mating ritual?' i ask.
'it's called the hebrew hammer.' she laughs.
'israeli girls are very progressive and liberated, in australia they still use clubs.'
'we prefer the inflatable approach and if you don't fall under our spell then we bring out the heavy artillery.'
'i'm under.'
i chat to the french girl for a while, martin and i leave, slipping out onto the streets and joining the mass movement of people, we find a coffee shop and watch all the glamourous russian girls strut past. this is hot russian brides dot com in 3d, it's incredible, high heels tight short skirts, everyone super friendly, looking sexy, i never thought jews were very sexy but i guess scarlett johansson proves me wrong.

i'm sitting around my parents flat in netanya waiting for the bus to arrive. it stops outside the front door. martin and jakob have left about 2 hours ago to go shopping in tel aviv and i am to meet them later but just as i am about to leave the phone rings, it's my cousin eagle who is in the hood and offers me a ride to tel aviv. so i jump in the car and we head off on our small road trip stopping in herzalya for a coffee. fuck! why do all the towns here have such difficult names? maybe this is why i like tel aviv so much, it just rolls of the tongue, easy.
eagle and i talk about his mayan studies and what he thinks is going on, much the same kinda stuff as i, we enjoy our chats, they are stimulating and provocative, challenging existing constructs and our own meta programs. we both want to video our talks but this requires practical skills and i'm fucking a lost cause.

strange histories filter through the conversations, snippets and fragments from the past, is this how history works, how can history be accurate.
there is a madness within my family, it’s particularly noticeable within the women, my fathers aunts and some of my cousins all present with fragmented personalities. the family is very susceptible to mental illness, my grandmother was a clairvoyant, my grandfather a magickian, both had released kundalini energy, my grandmother died of grief when her youngest child died, my grandfather owned a circus and gave his fortune away when he discovered the true nature of the universe. researching my family through it’s history leads to an obvious conclusion for me. something i have always known since before my magickal initiation.
my family originate from israel, what was israel many thousands of years ago, hey have been slaves to many empires, greeks, romans, christians and muslim, and since the destruction of what is known as the second temple, (the first was built by king solomon)
have been on the run. they fled portugal in the spanish inquisition and attempted to make their way back to israel but we have always been really bad sailors and they were shipwrecked of the coast of india where they stayed for many generations, forgetting their traditions and religion except for lighting the candles on friday. then they were discovered on the coast of goa where there is a memorial to the survivors of the shipwreck and reconnected with their roots. many of my ancestors returned to israel but my parents went to england something i can’t really forgive them for, i mean after being able to chose any place on the globe why england, but they had been touched by living in british india, the culture had seduced them, all those educated fuck-wits in their colonial hats and smoking jackets held them in a glamour. so they ended up in london, my father living in a bombed out building with a pet rat that he shared his rations with and my mother living with her parents in a big old house in wimbledon. they met in london at a dance and thus i manifested.
researching into my family here amongst everyone who has the history i discover that genetic testing conducted by the universities is trying to establish the twelve tribes who left israel in the past and formed communities elsewhere. the university published it’s results saying that the jews that went to india are the descendants of the high priests from the temples. first and second.
so here it is.
my heritage is that of high priest, which would explain my fascination for the esoteric why i found the magickal path so easy to follow and understand, it’s in my blood.
my grandfather knew this and towards the end of his life followed his truth, after he died he appeared to me on an astral level and passed on this knowledge as i have written about in earlier posts. he has appeared to many of my cousins but they have not had a framework to understand the significance of the symbols. symbolic reality is about as close as we can get to the true nature of what reality is. language as william burroughs pointed out is a virus and memes are are a virus.
so here i am with the proof.
old captain mission is a descendant of the high priest lineage.
excellent. my ego is pleased.
but i must return to my cousins, and aunts who have all suffered from the mental illness that seems to have afflicted them. i know why and how this has happened and i feel a duty to heal it. it is due to the massive kundalini shift that would occur in times of crisis or stress. any esoteric teacher would acknowledge how powerful this is and how dangerous it can be, this is why asylums are filled with religious nuts. the religious, mystic and spiritual traditions are swarming with basket cases because the people that seem to follow this path have one basic glitch in their system, the ego.
throughout this blog i have written about many of my teachers who mapped the magickal frame work for me, these are brave souls, explorers of consciousness who act as sages yet described in histories footnotes as the most dangerous men alive. each one of these people went through a process which is called, in a magickal frame work, battling with the demon choronzon. this entity is a phycological state, a state where the ego plays it’s final trick, it’s ace. this is where madness lives.
for the explorer of consciousness there is no escape one must pass through these gates, but there is a 99% chance one does not pass out intact. this is also the chapel perilous.
if genetically my family have links to high priest and priestess dna then this genetic program will awaken within them but without the map to navigate it it’s akin to schizophrenia or addiction within the genes, any environmental stress triggers the activation of these genetic predispositions and lets face it, what’s life but a busload of stress.

up at dawn, martin jake and i bus into tel aviv, the bus is direct, it departs from outside our front door into the heart of the city. tel aviv is vitality, youth, wild energy, trash meets class, funky up beat and exotic sophistication, fashion, passion and art whizzing around in a particle accelerator looking for the god particle. we wander through streets towards the meeting place where we meet our cousins, sara and erez their wonderful daughter zohar and our other amazing cousins, michelle and adi and michele's son the outrageously ‘out’ rohee who i think would love the sydney gay culture although tel aviv is equally as wild.
together we wander the markets, the sight and sounds are an assault, bombarding our sensory systems, smells, colors, noise following the sound of south american music we come to a group of musicians playing some incredible salsa, the family all dance except me, i’ve no connection to the south american musical tradition, i like their plants and girls but as far as the music goes it’s okay, i appreciate it but it don’t move me. however this band is amazing, four guys playing these incredible rhythms and weaving in and out like serpents in a tapestry of jungle fever. we continue the walk through the massive markets, a lithe figure does the indian rope trick, a marionette flirts with passers by, a shop filled with masks and masquerade accessories, there’s no limit to the art on display, it’s everywhere.
we drink coffee, laugh, erez tells me about a fig liqueur that i am interested in trying and i explain the hallucinogenic and dangerous properties of absinthe, warning him not to drink to much in one go.
we wander along some shops, amazing fashions and styles from all over the world in one street, lots of people moving around, young beautiful people, everything has an energy here, it’s alive and for the living. jake, erez and i have a beer and wait for the rest to catch up, we sit in an old cafe that was here when the british left, it’s falling apart but has character, a mix of people drinking beer, reading newspapers and arguing. the israelis argue all the time, it’s conversational but strange to watch, everyone is well educated and informed, everyone expresses themselves honestly and directly, no one is subtle, no one hides any part of themselves here, it’s all out in the open. it’s a freedom i am not used to but quickly appreciate.
i watch the girls walk past, all tattooed, pierced and tribal in their hebrew sandals and dresses and the israeli punk girls with their mow-hawks and attitude. the boys playing beach ball on the beach, the groups of people fire twirling and the joggers who run along listening to their ipods.
the sound of trance music emanates from a small bus, it’s the religious people, jewish outreach looking for lost souls. they drive a yellow graffiti covered van and dress as hassidic jews. they are singing and laughing and everyone seems to wave at them as they drive by, it’s a contrast i’m unfamiliar with, not in my realm of expectation. israel is like this, all preconceived ideas are wrong, what ever you have read in newspapers, heard about on the news or mental pictures you fabricate from bits of information that sit in cyberspace are absolutely 100% wrong or they are misrepresentations of an israel that does not exist or exists only as some hidden agenda. even the israeli national english newspaper ‘hararetz’ is a misrepresentation of information, the alternative the JP has a much more clearer representation of opinion and truth. it’s the strangest thing to have your mental conceptual frameworks taken apart like this but then again i am used to it.
we wander towards a restaurant near the coast where we have booked a table with ocean views, the hotel is immaculate and the marble restrooms have scented candles burning, incense and warm towels to refresh with, it’s quite special.
the meal is incredible, many trays of food appear, freshly baked breads, drinks, cocktails made from pink grapefruit and gelatos made from forest fruits, pear, watermelon and mangoes for desert. but even greater is the fact that i am with my cousins and jakob is here, for they are truly beautiful people. loving, happy and funny. we laugh and talk, exchange stories and tales and eat. outside i watch people pass by, strolling along the beach a melting pot of races. peoples, culture like a procession of life. the bill came to $30 each. incredible!
later we walk along tel aviv beach, the sun is ablaze, a red ball floating above the mediterranean, it’s a postcard, we walk for about an hour, a trail of family, as we walk the neon city begins to light up behind us.
a detour, we clamber over the rocks, it’s friday night, the beginning of the sabbath here, something i have never really taken any notice of before, my only interest in the jewish part of my religion is the kabbalah the mystical tradition which i have studied and found to be filled with esoteric wisdom and practical truth, in the same way buddhism has these qualities and now we are going to join with the kabbalists sabbath. i don’t know what this is but apparently a group meet each friday and hold an open ceremony on the beach near the old bombed ruins of the dolphinarium. i’m really hoping that it’s not some old guys with beards and shawls reading from a bible, that would do my head in, but i am curious to see how kabbalists bring in the sabbath.
so we wander along a section of rocks and turn a corner, i can hear the sound of drums, it gets louder and louder until it is upon us. i weave through a crowd of dancing people, my body starts to move, there’s about fifty drummers playing their skins, a powerful tribal ‘matrix dance party’ feel is in the air, my brain takes a massive synaptic connection, the matrix written by two jewish guys is very kabbaistic in it’s subtext. everyone around me is just dancing in ecstasy, it really is infectious and spiritual. i start dancing in the crowd, as the sun sets i see jake dancing, erez dancing, all my cousins, everyone dancing and celebrating life.
i’d have to say that this to me was more religious and moving than any other experience i could have here, no words, no temple like buildings, no authority, no talking, no rules, no fucking laws, no preaching, no constructs, just a bunch of people celebrating life in the purest way possible. sending out great energy.
jake and i agree tel aviv is where it is at.
we wander back, looking at the gay bars that have been bombed by suicide bombers, the blues bars that were bombed by suicide bombers, the night clubs that were bombed by suicide bombers even the shell of the dolphnarium that was bombed by a suicide bomber.
the strange state of war the country is in, right or wrong, the pressure these people are under and have been for 65 years from day one of creation and genetically down the ages, the distortions with the worlds perception and incredible misrepresentation the media make is so inaccurate and unfair i do feel an incredible sense of pride as here is the truth of the matter. israel is a place of incredible tolerance and joy. even amongst the one and a half million arab population that choose to live within israel they have access to education, housing, health and representation in parliament and they abide by the secular laws of the country because they have more freedom here than in any arab nation. ironically no jew in an arab nation has anything like this, yet that is never represented in the newspapers. they are not even allowed to come into israel.
anyway i don’t want to get into politics, my views are strong and based on a rational, objective reality, any one who wants to wake up from their own political mindset about israel should watch alan dershowitz’s ‘the case for israel’ which i’d like to ram down everyones necks but unfortunately that probably wouldn’t help. dershowitz has also written a trilogy of non fiction books which informs israeli position to the world.
i’ve been here many times, i spent six months on a kibbutz, not once have i ever felt any religious or spiritual connection to the land or the history, my connection is family. i understand this is the place i originate from and genetically there is a history within me that connects me but i am a child of the cosmos, i don’t believe in constructs, i believe in god and the god i believe in does not inhabit one geographical position or people. however i do understand political memes and forces that operate them and motivate them and here played out in this slither of middle eastern land is the key to the truth of human nature. the internal bagvahad gita manifested into external reality.

passing time playing cards with jakob, he’s good at shithead, beats me 9 times out of 10, i wonder if the cards are rigged then recall i’ve always been crap at cards, never really wanted to win in competitions just play, i don’t even feel motivated to come first in anything, it’s not really a problem, i just want to better myself, not any one else.
self improvement is a goal i spend years on, why? because it’s really the only work there is in life.
what does it mean working on oneself, in magickal terms this is called the great work and refers to meditation upon the nature of the self, the brain, the mind and the spirit, working out who you are, why you are here and what you have to do and then applying it. in phycological terms it means the same thing, just different language. physician heal thyself. why a magickal path worked for me as opposed to the phycological, mental one is because magickal work has a much more multi dimensional frame work, the map is not the territory, something the sciences don’t really recognize until you deal with quantum phycology.
however all roads lead to roam. ha, those romans.
it it’s through these processes that we can untangle the dna and patterns that imprison us. for example a political meme that may have been passed down from generation to generation, marxism instilled so deep it’s impossible to think outside these references. for this individual all the world is viewed through marxist terms and therefore the mind is preprogramed to make judgements and decisions based on this embedded meme. however it is just a meme, fighting for domination and recognition, the brain is overwhelmed the more virulent the meme the less chance the brain has to think for itself.. the best way to kill these memes are through understanding, acknowledgement, love and significance, however sometimes people need to defend their own memes from meme attack. it’s war baby, it always has been, war is a natural state of all biological entities, we are at war with ourselves and other tribes, unless evolution is at work this natural state is difficult to untangle oneself from. evolution occurs in a natural process, massive bursts of gamma radiation from the sun can cause mutations at a genetic level, the trials of darwinian evolution create innovative and diverse shifts in natures dna, the human mind eventually reaches a point where it can meta program, that is take control of it’s own personality and operational system. this is essentially what magick is, strange word but accurate, perhaps brain change is better as dr. hyatt always said to me.
so lets look at this in action.
significance is a tool used by the mind to attach importance to an event. we can think of significance as a tagging concept. for example we can tag certain political events as being important and heighten their significance in the universe. however this is mostly an arbitrary ‘tagging’ made by our programed patterns and responses.
the patterns come from childhood, parents, environment and beliefs and memes, things that have been imprinted often at a subconscious level that we act on without being fully conscious. so we attach significance to various events, i attach significance to my mothers treatment of me. however, it is my mind that makes that choice. i put a tag upon it, i chose to make it significant over say the exploding binary star that has formed a new galaxy in the andromeda sector of the milky way. or the fact 10000 people just died of starvation while writing this. for some reason my mother gets more significance in my life than these events. natural i guess given the fact i am human but irrational, maybe just complex.
understanding is a different process, fraught with difficulties, however by attaching significance to my relationship with my mother i have no choice but to understand what it is.
in it’s purest sense it is an energy, a life-force she created to protect her from whatever traumas she experienced in her life and i acknowledge through attaching significance to it. i could chose not to, although its very hard, it is after all a mental discipline relating to deep emotional patterns.
understanding this ‘energetic life force’ involves a matter of working out why it exists in the first place.
if we accept the condition that we create reality which any magickian would have to accept as a fundamental truth, why do these experiences exist.
why does anything we encounter exist?
the answer is to experience it.
once you get through the mind field of intellectual trickery the mind projects out at you this becomes the most simple and most elegant answer, beyond science yet embedded in quantum reality and all esoteric knowledge, and sadly totally misrepresented by the new age movement. this is old age stuff. we have to experience it because ths is what living is.
the mad monks who sit in caves and seclusion for hours alone attempting to master their minds are chasing an illusion, the world of formation, the material world is the reality that we manifest within and this is where we should test our own minds and truths. sitting in a cave is akin to playing chess with oneself. reality is also an illusionary process, maya, however it can be manipulated by the mind and eventually any smart mystic will come to the conclusion the mind is an illusion as well. yeah, its one great big cosmic joke which is any buddha worth their title is laughing.
non attachment helps in this process. i mean if some one is getting beaten up i don’t expect them to think ‘oh how wonderful i must experience this.’
but somewhere down the line they have to understand the ‘why’ of the experience is not a random event especially if this pattern repeats itself through ones life over and over in slightly different variations. reality is particles and waves, patterns, perhaps the victim of this starts to develop a fearful energy field around themselves that starts to control their confidence. until the individual acknowledges that this energetic field is not them, it is a separate ‘being’ seeking understanding, acknowledgement and love it will continue to exist. often these fields will engage in other peoples energy fields to maintain it’s life force. thus a victim mentality will always attract a drama where the victim is perpetuated.
patterns exist in nature at all levels, if an individual maps the patterns in their life they can determine what significant events stand out and understand why these patterns exist, remembering that they have chosen the significant events themselves.
the usual reason is the individual has not followed through the sequence of processes involved in this reality.
so what is the rest of the sequence?
we become aware ‘significance’ is something we determine, we understand why it exists now we have to acknowledge that it does exist for us to fully experience, again returning to the idea of non attachment we can detach ourself from the event, mindfulness is an excellent way to do this. okay so again let’s use my mother as an example.
as difficult as it is, as emotionally wrenching and soul destroying i have no choice but to concede that i am creating this pattern because i am attaching some arbitrary significance to this relationship. so i can choose not to or attempt to unravel it’s existence. i can understand that once i created it the energy field exists as an independent energy. it appears and manifests while we are together she creates or presents an energy field that protects her, keeps her safe, stops her feeling insecure and threatened by me yet it is not really her or me, it is an energy field existing for one reason only, to be experienced, understood, acknowledged and then loved.
so in the last posts since i arrived in london and here in israel i am acknowledging my responsibility in the creation of this energy field that exists around me in response to hers.
the next part of the process will be the hardest, the part that requires the most work, the great work is to love the energy field, unconditionally. this is why it exists in the first place, this is why the energy field has manifested in the first place.
i have to find the resources inside myself, the power and truth to love this being, a strange dark force that attracts and repels at the same time, a complex tangled web of destructive impulses and rages that somehow gave birth to me and now i gave birth to it and we are trapped in birthing these beings.
this is what magick is. the subconscious will creating situations and events in the material plane.
there’s many ways to look at these energy fields, in the most part they are created as a form of protection from wounding we have all experienced, sometimes they are karmic fields imprinted in our families, sometimes in our dna as genetic imprints. this is why it is our own responsibility to unravel the forces that operate in our lives and stop ourselves from being free. being a father has been an incredible test of this and i have availed myself to the task diligently and responsibly but patterns and programs will slip through, and jakob will have to do some work as well, i know this, but the work he will have to do unravelling himself should he chose to or find himself in a position where it is necessary will be negligible. my work as a father is done really. he no longer needs me and i no longer need to be responsible for him although i will always be there for him should he need me. he is a man now and as i have said many times in my blog, being a man means taking responsibility for oneself. i guess i should do this symbolically with jake, maybe soon, a ritual of some sorts, maybe take some ‘mushrooms’ together :)

okay im on level ground, feeling a bit better after spending time with my israeli family who are just amazing, really amazing people, each and every one of them from the oldest to youngest they have such an incredible sense of love and caring, it's just overwhelming and nurishing. i guess i knew at the back of the mind what i was doing coming to england, it's never been a place that i could have felt happy in, it was destroying me from birth. but here i am half way through my life with a harddrive half filled with amazing experiences and adventures, brilliant freinds and derspite the long distance and time great aunts uncles and cousins and son. so i guess things are not so bad.
i would have loved to have had a good relationship with my mother but it did't work out. that's the way it is.
yeah i'm looking for light, i walked in darkness, saw the worst human condition offers and observe it all the time and as nitzchche says, 'he who stares into the abyss the abyss also stares into him.'
how can it not. i'm a open mind, the boundries blew away a long time ago, the ego crashed and burnt, i am generally happy vibrant and positive but after a pounding from the first female imprint and figure in my life it's taken it's toll, i just want to go home and heal myself a bit and get on with normal things.

the bad seed, the black son, left home to early and never came back, pressured to be some lawyer on the thirty seventh floor of some building but changed path when destiny called, the random winds of chance change and chaos blew him in twelve different directions where the shards of his spirit followed divergent paths only to converge and unite here in this very moment, singularity.
he has returned into the place whence he came, the swords of sarcasm, the bitter fruit, the seeds of doubt and fear, the empty loveless void, the shame, the guilt the hate. he has no shield, no sword, no army, here there is no protection. raw exposed he stands tall remembering his lessons, his teachings, his spirit. he tries hard, like kanut attempts to stop the tide, he is working against mighty forces, oppressive and destructive energies batter and assault him, sometimes he feels he is loosing his mind, the battle, the war and sometimes he feels a sadness to deep for tears, sometimes he tenses up ready to flee the overwhelming enemies of fear and ignorance but he has one weapon that no one considered. he has died many times and lived again and he remembers them all.

obviously i have no idea what being a woman is like, i don't really know what being a man is like except that sooner or later you have to be responsible and take responsibility for your self, but women are a mystery. motherhood is the strange bond that binds women together, it always has and always will, fathers are excluded from this as nature is sexist and our time comes later. but i've always found that both parents have a sacred responsibility to their children and this is something which confounds me. i was very very aware of this when i was a new father, each moment was precious and every interaction i had with my son was special. therefore for about three years i remained a great dad until a massive meltdown and i fucked up, nothing major but the repercussions were a divorce and nasty separation. i made a mistake, and i paid for it. however even during that period i attempted to be a great father, even if i only saw my son for a few hours those hours would be great. jakob is a brilliant individual and i knew this from conception, a magickal childe you could say, his nature was shaped and nurtured and never once did i ever humiliate or degrade him, never criticise or even reprimand him even though for many years after the divorce he held a lot of anger towards me and the political energy between him, his mother and myself was tense and twisted. i always gave my best, even when i was working insane hours, long shifts, spent of energy and resources, i never had money due to child support payments being massive, and often i never had a car. however i still know what my responsibilities were and lived up to them in a humane and reasonable way. why? why was i so aware of myself as a parent even though outside that role i was a extremist radical thinking revolutionary individual.
the answer lies in my childhood, which wasn't pretty.
i've blocked it, a few bumps and blows to the head finished the job but spending prolonged time with my family has really brought it all flooding back. my mother is insane. her hatred of me, yes that is exactly what it is, is a destructive force so powerful people are frightened of it and her. her vengeance is so strong that no one dares challenge her, no one dares stand up and say, 'you are a fucked unit' or at least, 'your behaviour is abusive.'
my family sit around a table talking about an english family we all know who go on holidays to foreign countries but stay in the hotel grounds around the pool. we are drinking whiskey and talking, it's very rare for me to be this close to my mother but it's been a long day and it's coming to an end, everyone laughing and joking around.
so what happens.
my mother is telling every one about the english family.
martin says, 'yeah they don't leave the hotel even to go shopping.'
mum agrees.
i say, 'yeah they even order fish and chips in the restaurant.'
and suddenly she's attacks me, 'no they don't, they eat gourmet food and it's australians that don't know how to have holidays and eat properly, and you are only here because your father earnt english money so don't you complain about the english.'
and on it went, the usual diatribe of absolute bullshit that i have to listen to until it becomes a barrage of guilt.
i stand up and say 'goodnight, i've had my quota of insults today so i think i will go to bed.'
as i leave i hear my mothers voice raving her fury at me.
i sit in my room wondering why i am putting myself through this and when it is going to end.
jackie comes in to encourage me out, 'what does she want from me?' i ask.
and that's the question, what does she want from me?
the answer is she hates me. it's that fucking simple.
some mothers hate their children and if they didn't fuck them up when they are kids they wait till they are older.
any opportunity she gets to humiliate, belittle, degrade or make me feel some sort of shame she will take, my father who is extremely weak when it comes to her will not do anything to upset her and the rest of the family all know she is crazy and just try to keep her laughing and happy.
jake in his infinite wisdom watches and absorbs and makes his own decisions. later we talk about it.
fuck i'm a lucky man, jakob is a remarkable human being, smart enough to have his own perceptive abilities and use his brain independently of constructed reality, he knows how memes work, he knows everything i do and therefore he is free from ideological agendas, he knows what's healthy and what's not. and he knows my mum, his grandmother is very unhealthy in her mind and relationship with me. in fact it's common knowledge. the only people in denial are my brother, my dad, and her.
today its a special day in israel where they remember the 6 million (which is exactly the number of jews in israel) so we went to a small service in the community we are staying, it was difficult to understand but it was actually quite beautiful and short, nothing to in your face and over the top.
the evening was spend talking about the holocaust and the fact that the camps where all over europe not just germany, my mother raving on about hating the germans and the poles and the french and the this and the that, and some one nodded and said they do also. now i understand fully the nature of this, what occurred was unprecedented and whatever deniers and revisionists say the facts are there for those who want to see them. but i did feel obliged to say, 'hating them makes us like them, let it go and forgive, that's how healing begins.'
most of the room agreed with me, but my mum looked at me in anger.
most jews have forgiven the perpetrators, it's not a big deal as the present climate has it's own pressures, a mad iranian with nukes, 850 million neighbours who want to strap bombs to their children and themselves and blow israel up, an eu mostly comprised of dictatorships that hate israel's democracy and libertine society. so dealing with the past is a fleeting thing here.
i personally think israel is an amazing country, to have come so far in 62 years is a miracle, it really is, the fourth most technologically advanced country on the planet, the most educated nation, the most innovative, on top of just survival. no wonder people hate it, it's a success.against all odds.

my cousin eagle and his new wife call in, he runs a company that translates technical books, he also lectures on the mayan culture and calendar and has a healthy mind, i will turn him on to ayahuscia and set him free. i tell him about benny shannon, and the experiences i have had. he's ready for a session. i tell him about the tim leary experience and how he was americas most wanted man, i tell him not to place his faith in religion and political structures and he digs it, he's on the path and aya will be his destination, i can see it in his eyes, all those years looking for meaning, reading codes and signs, the ego making it's serpent like coils, the words, the numbers, the belief in some intangible hope and the waiting, it is time to be set free. eagles fly.
his rock band are playing at a music festival in a few weeks we are invited to go, sounds great.
mum, dad, martin tune in on satellite tv, world news broadcasts around the world, mass indoctrination of billions transmitted directly into your brain, who knows what's true, who knows whats going on, all we get from this globalised media is opinions.
i do like glen beck on fox, wow a free thinking man with a good ability to connect dots, he's hated by the left wing, but he's not quite acceptable for the right, he is however a brilliant mind who looks at facts, and the meme's that motivate the minds on the political games that influence the world, he's really good.

the family, and there's a lot of them all go for lunch at a bedouin village in the arab district of sherferam, five cars in convoy pull up outside a massive tent. we are greeted by a short man and his boys, who sit us down around a table and immediately start to bring out masses of food, really good fresh stuff to, natural food, no chemical shit, it's great, we feast away, jake, martin and myself are shaking our heads, we had a massive dinner last night, just had breakfast and now this, how can we eat more, but it is all light stuff, and very tasty so we manage. after dinner we are invited to sit around the cushions and the hookah that stands in the middle, now suddenly i am perked, oh, great i nudge jake but instead the owner comes and sits with us and talks about the bedouin ritual of bitter coffee, apparently it is a great honour for a guest to drink this coffee with the bedouin and if they refuse they are insulted. he starts to talk about bedouin customs and the rituals that surround this coffee.this is not strong arab coffee but bitter coffee.
i look at jake and we both silently exchange a thought, 'we will drink this coffee.'
no one can believe us, or take us seriously as this coffee is so profoundly bitter, the brew can go for 20 years. our family ignore us and the bedouin continues his chat while my uncle translates.
again i ask, 'we will have coffee with you.'
the bedouin can't believe it, he shakes his head as if we don't understand. no one else want to go anywhere near this coffee but we insist we are serious and two cups are prepared,
jake and i drink out coffees in bedouin tradition, like a shot. every one looks at us as though we are mad, 'what was it like,' they ask.
unrehearsed and totally in synch we say, it's bitter but can we have another one.'
the bedouin man smiles and shakes our hands, he jumps up and invites us to his home, he is very happy.
the bedouins are nomads they move around and do not use money, they have ancient traditions and women are not treated very well at all, but the bedouins of israel all stay put, they serve in the army and their women have equal rights. i ask 'where is home for you?'
israel is home for me, israel loves me and i love her.'
'where is your wife?'
she is studying at university?'
'what is she studying?'
'bio diversity.'
this is how it is here.
we leave and return home, later i go for a walk with jake, we take the long way around the local neighbourhood, children are everywhere, they laugh and run around like happy little rodents on ecstasy, pure joy. it's a strange place, filled with beautiful plant life, colours and music everywhere, sculptures and landscapes that look as though they have been carved by a feng shui master. there's a flow to the place, a natural harmony.
jake and i discuss his options, it's always hard to give advice, i think so far outside of the box that any advice i give would be seen as subversive and dangerous but i said, as i have always said, 'don't be to hard on yourself, you can never disappoint me, and do what you love doing.'

last night my cousin iris spoke about her fears of death and losing her parents. ironic i know, i guess i have divorced myself from my mother emotionally, she means very little to me anymore, her pure hatred of me had made this a necessity, if i invested any emotional energy into her words or intentions then i would just be damaged goods. my father is different, he's always been my connection to the etheric world of his family and my heritage, not that i am enslaved by it but it is a very special quality that side of the family have, a connection to love i guess. but i have resolved myself with the idea that he will die soon, i know this will occur and i am prepared for it, although i am also aware we have unresolved issues, i can't open up to him about my feelings towards mum, he won't be able to deal with it plus it may just send him on his merry way prematurely, so i guess even through i'm resigned to his death it's going to leave a gap for me that i will have to live with.
but i say to my cousin that i feel on first names basis with death, it is more familiar to me than my mother, it's a good relationship and i understand that death is married to life, one cannot have one without the other, one reminds the other that each moment is precious, must be treasured and sacred and that the chain of karma is passed down from parent to child which is why it is important to let go of attachments in death, treasure memory, each moment is an eternal now, and one can only strive towards love instead of fear lest the moment be tainted. and know that your responsibility as a parent is to bring that moment to your children so that they are free. despite my own struggle with this it's got to be close to the truth of the matter.

fucking hell man it's enough to make you want to finish that bottle of chivas regal that's sitting on the kitchen, how can an organisation be so incompetent, my wages have been wrong for the last four weeks, i spent last week on the freaking breadline, unable to move, at the mercy of dark forces because i have no cash and now i have to wait another week before they pay me. finally received an e mail confirming my loading was not paid and a date for payment. so for the next 7 days i will be in suspended animation as far as moving around goes, i have a lot of places on my list, one being the galilee sea which is an amazing lake in the north, near the golan heights where i will stay. last time i was here i wandered around the galilee and found a small community of tent dwelling alternative types who smoked weed and did yoga like activities, they invited me in for a massage and a smoke but i decided i would walk upon the surface of the galilee, they all laughed not realising i was totally serious, so as soon as i finished the holy land spliff i strode down to the waters edge and stepped in, no hesitation, no waiting around for walking on water conditions, no creating expectation, just a stoned strut into the sea, yeah i don't raise the dead but i sure rose a few laughs that day.
anyway i wanna go back, say hello, smoke the peace pipe and chill out in the beautiful atmosphere and environment. plus i want another go at that walking on water malarky.

up at 5am, bus into old jerusalem which is a divided city, the armenian, christian, arab and jewish quarters, we wander through the small ancient winding streets, the armenian section is filled with russian orthodox people wandering around in their black outfits, we wander through the christian section and see the place where a virgin was born, we see where jesus upset a few traders, we see where he spoke some wise words, we wander the stations of the cross and see where he was jailed, the arab quarter is a shit hole, dirty, stinky and filled with manic people attempting to rip you off, it's hostile and volatile, as they swarm out of their mosques filled with hate and throw rocks at cars and passer by's, yeah really classy. the jewish quarter is impeccably clean and interesting with museums and ancient temples and markets and stores and a big wall, the only standing wall left from the temple of solomon who i have to admit is one of my esoteric heroes, but my over all impression is the whole of the old city is just a bunch of rocks, the buildings are amazingly designed but fucking hell, what's all the fuss about?
these religious nuts drive me mental, a kind of glamour is cast and people get all weird, my mum, dad and martin have a strong connection with it all but i feel sadly empty, to cling to these ancient relics is unhealthy. to incite hate and violence is madness, the whole bunch of them are like ant's over a cupcake, sucking any real spirituality from the place.
new jerusalem is much better, in fact it's beautiful, very clean, amazing architecture, modern art everywhere, great looking girls, i'd live there if it wasn't surrounded by the fruitcakes. the only thing i came away thinking about was how cool jesus was, when he tipped over the market stall, i would have done the same thing.

i've been drinking black vodka, wow, what a drink, strange taste not unpleasant but different, it's as if some one squirted squid ink into the mix. we have a big trip tomorrow, i'm not sure how it's going to pan out, tensions high between mum, dad and myself. my poor uncle has to intervene when i refuse to have anything to do with them and chose to stay home rather than travel anywhere, in the end we just drink more vodka. my dad accuses me of being difficult but later i think he knows he is wrong. my general philosophy is i will not tolerate their stupid conditions that they place upon me, nor will i allow myself to feel that they can control me, this is why tension exists, it's a form of separation anxiety. the last bastion they have over me, a clutching at something that parents from that generation seem to think is their right, dominion over their children even when they are adults. i refuse such things, i cannot accept the casual brainwashing from authorities that impose restrictions that contravene my basic human rights. my family are jews, i am as well but i chose not to practice any religious observance as my relationship with god is secure and i don't feel the need to re enact ancient rituals or compromise. my dad however is a god fearing man. he thinks that i should respect his fear, i don't. his god is not mine.
my god doesn't live in israel or rome
doesn't have a church or temple
don't have a set of rules for me to live under except the ones i choose for myself
my god does not fear
my god does not hate
my god does not limit or set boundaries
my god has a sense of humour.
my god loves me and i love my god
my god is within me and without
and my god does not impose upon anyone
so why the fuck should i care about some one else's version?
respect?
i guess that's a good reason but it's also hard to respect something that doesn't respect you. so we will see how things pan out tomorrow. i'm a quiet unassuming guy, i sit in the corner reading my book and am happy if people want to leave me be, but the moment they start to engage me with conditions, rules and control mechanisms that i find are restrictive then they are going to have to have a very good justification that is intellectually satisfying.

i was on some outpost in andromeda on a desert planet no one had even bothered name, there was not much out there, just a couple of bars and a hotel for the black market dealers and gangsters who trade with the outer section, a few families but mostly a barman and his murky customers who kept to themselves. i'd been hanging out in the bar all week, my contact had not shown up, i figured they may have been in transit still, flights are unpredictable and it's quite common for pilots to factor in the wrong decimal point and phase into space that is millions of light years away from their destination.
i had lost a wife this way, grace was somewhere in deep space with twenty other girls who were on a night out, with a bunch of male strippers, the ship transported somewhere into deep space instead of earth. i hadn't seen her for 9 years, they had probably landed on a habitable planet and formed a community by now, these things happen.
the bartender handed me another bottle, 'hey i heard there's a ship arriving tonight.'
'yeah.'
'may be worthwhile, your waiting for someone right?
'yeah, you know something i don't.'
'it's a small universe, news travels.'
'it's a big universe, news don't travel this far. you must know something?'
'let's just say it would be in your interests to be there.'
i take the bottle and return to my room, the hotel is falling apart, my room has a bed a table and a telephone, the cupboard door is falling off and the window is so dirty i can't see out. it has a great shower though.
i sleep through the afternoon and after a long hot shower grab my gun and wander down to the main communication port on the top floor of the building.
i ask the receptionist where the ship is due, she says it's coming in on the western pad and that i can catch a shuttle out there in about an hour. i sit down and wait.
the shuttle ride takes two hours, the red sun sinks behind the horizon, i gaze at the desert through the tinted windows. there's no one else on the shuttle, not even a driver, it's all automatic. later i see the lights in the sky, the ship is small, which is unusual i was expecting a freighter this far out, i watch it's gravity suppression as it glides down to the pad, just as we dock.
moments later my door slides open and a woman enters, it's her dr. newton, my contact.
'jesus christ newton, nice of you to show up.'
'i had considerations, i'm just glad you waited.'
'waiting is all there is here, seems like everyone on this planet is waiting.'
'yes i know, i have been here once before, it probably has not changed.'
she sits opposite me.
'someone knew you were coming, the barman told me.'
'news has a strange way of travelling.'
'it's supposed to be confidential.'
'mmm, yes well there is no confidential anymore, it only takes a good hacker and all communication systems are exposed. even confidential ones.'
'no secrets.'
'none.'
'well have you got it.'
'later, i need a drink first, i've been travelling for, six years.'
we walk into the bar, i nod to the bartender who offers us a bottle.
'whiskey okay?'
'yes perfect.'
i catch up on news back home, wars, politics, tensions, and gossip, nothings really changed.
the lights are low, we've been drinking a long time, dr.newton is flirting with me, resistance is low, we amble up to the room, she showers i look at some feeds on her pdr.
before we have sex we both take a complementary bliss bomb, the universal standard aphrodisiac heightens sexual response in the brains neuro- pathways and increases dopamine circuits.
later we lay on the bed sharing a joint.
'so you want to discuss what you have.'
'yes but i need my money and i need a slot for take off, you arrange that and i'll give you the package.'
'well where does that leave me if it don't work.'
'it's not going to happen. i have the goods.'
'yes but what if you don't.'
'then you can radio the authority and have me picked up.'
'mmm, and risk myself being picked up to.'
'look it's trust and a bit of faith. i'm not going to rip you off.'
she pulls her pdr out and punches in her codes,then she passes it to me. she wants ten million credits. i look into the eye piece and the pdr runs a scan. then i punch in my codes and press transmit. i throw the machine to her.
'okay well i have time for another bliss bomb, there's no need to rush.'
'it usually doesn't cost so much,' i say wryly as i slip back under the sheet.
we head back out on the shuttle transit, she's looking out the window as the sun comes up,'looks like a desolate wasteland.'
'that's cos it is.'
'it's so barren.'
'yeah but it's strangely familiar to me, i've come to like it, it's home.'
'you know that they found some sculptures out here about 200 years ago when they first landed. build by aliens they said.'
'who?'
'the archaeologists.'
'there are no aliens.'
'well some one made those sculptures and it wasn't us.'
'impossible.'
'check the records.'
we sit in silence for a moment. then i decide to speak, it's an awkward silence.
'so what's next for you?'
'i'm disappearing somewhere nice, where they have trees.'
we dock and she hands me a small package, 'thank you. bon voyage,' i whisper.
i ride the shuttle back and open the package, it's a pdr. i activate it.
it's a video of her, 'in 3023 a small research team working on genetic plasma reproduction and nuclear medicine discovered quite by accident a way to travel through time. using a genetic coded hydra that was injected into the blood supply the recipient could travel down the genome time line on it's mothers or fathers side depending upon the sex of the recipent. that is if you wanted to go back to ancient rome you would basically follow the dna strand back to your great grandparent x 1000. while inhabiting the body your consciousness would be dominant while the host would lay dormant. the hydra lasts about 24 hours and then returns along the dna path to the present, the distance travelled depends upon the strength of the hydra. the hydra dose per incarnation is 2cc.
it's not a one way journey but one cannot travel forwards in time.
the hydra is a complex radiated protein, a hybrid pattern of molecules and viral agents. the host body remains preserved in a comatose state until the hybrid exhausts itself.'
there's a lot more, i flick through the screen, pages and pages of technical information, diagrams and charts, there's biological, chemical and neurological sections, then a massive phycological section i scan, the usual warnings and repercussions, carefully read the paradox laws of time travel.
i put the pdr down and look into the rest of the package, there it is a small sealed container, the size of a postage stamp, inside is a tiny syringe device.
upstairs i did some yoga, smoked a joint and opened the sealed container, i took out the injection tab and the dose pack attached the full 2000mg dose to the tab and placed it upon my chest.
there was a moments hesitation, 24 hours as far back as i can get, this was a small prick for me but a giant one for my kind. i plunged the needle, lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, the last thought i had was 'don't fuck the locals.'

when my eyes opened i was covered in hair, laying in what appeared to be a nest, i looked out across the horizon, i was standing high up in a canopy of trees, an old growth forest, birds flew past, the sun filtered through the branches and leaves, i was naked. 'what the fuck am i doing in a nest?' i said to no one in particular.
i climbed down, my body was about 7ft tall, my arms and legs very long and i had no fat anywhere but i also possessed a tail which seemed to swing around like a counterbalance,, it was very long and although was quite useful would take to long for me to master.
once on the surface i walked along following a trail, until i came to a clearing where a crowd of these beasts seemed to congregate. they were all rolling around laughing and some seemed to just be laying on the floor sleeping like giant sloths. i watched three or four other beasts arrive at the clearing, they ambled in and took some large purple fruit like orbs from what could be a female beast. then with a primitive straw they punctured the fruit and sucked up the fluid lat lay within, some mixed the liquid from the purple fruit with the liquid from a smaller yellow one, like a cocktail. the effect was instant, they seemed to be experiencing some form of drunkenness but their faces all smiling and looking happy. a beast approached me from behind, his arm grabbed me and pulled me into the circle, together we walked up to the female beast who offered us a purple fruit. my new friend took both of them and mixed the liquid with the yellow fruit, then he handed me the shell filled fluid. he smiled and drunk his. within seconds the eyes in his head rolled back and he swooned, falling on the floor and remaining there smiling. i took a sip, it was wonderful, i gulped it down.
there was an explosion of light, i was traveling through time, space on what appeared to be a multicoloured river of quanta, i knew everything, all memory was available, all information at my fingertips but the desire to know was non existent, i was in bliss. the river carried me, us all of us, the beasts along, we floated effortlessly and i felt at peace and in awe. i knew this was no longer time that i was in, sure i had travelled back as far as the hybrid would take me on a full dose, it must be well before the dawn of mankind, before known history, but here i had taken some other substance that had taken me out of time. an ethogenic or psychedelic experience. yet here i knew everything, i reached out for dr. newton, she seemed very close and we seemed to be able to share our thoughts.
'it's beautiful isn't it?' her voice was a soft whisper, she was not in my head but it felt like that.
'what is this?'
'it's reality, the end of time, the beginning and end of everything.'
'that's cryptic newton but i know what you mean.'
'everything you need to know is here, all the answers but here is perfect so there is no real desire to know anything.'
'heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.'
we drift in silence for a while,then on impulse i ask the quanta,' who built the structures, was it aliens.'
'no, there are no aliens, just humans.'
'did humans build them.'
'yes an early version of humanity, there's been quite a few and probably more to come.'
'why.'
'evolution has no end, energy cannot be destroyed, consciousness has a velocity.'
i'm no longer interested, i'm content not to know, the answers don't mean anything anymore, i close my eyes and enjoy the silence and the bliss of perfection.
i must have stayed there for the rest of the hydra, the next thing i know i'm back in my room.
my body feels feverish, i think it may just be the residual effects of the hydra leaving my body.
i get up and head to the shower, but as i walk through the bathroom door i catch myself in the mirror.
'fuck' i scream, i 'm looking at my host body, covered in hair and with tail.'what the fuck!'
i grab the pdr and scan for side effects but there is nothing, something has gone wrong.
my tail swings from side to side and it takes me a moment to bring it to a standstill.
i search my bag for some sort of shaver but there's nothing, i know there's nothing, i know that there's nothing i can do, i know that i am trapped in this body, an ancient human prototype that is long extinct and now it's my body and i have to live the rest of my life in it.

last night we spoke about the male female polarities, my tantric cousin saying that men seek out their mother in a partner.
she made the statement that all men look for mother figures. almost everyone agreed, including two men at the table, martin and guy.
i stated categorically that this was not the case and that i never have and never will seek out any partner that presents as a mother figure, to which i was told that i cannot help do this as it is my imprinted nature.
'no in my case it's not true. all patterns and imprints can and should be broken and this should be the duty of all evolutionary creatures. as soon as i could i reformatted my hard drive, through nlp, through magick, psychedelics, through brain change and through my own meta programming.'
my mother looks horrified.
'i think you are very mistaken if you think all men are incapable of having some sort of control over their imprints.'
to my surprise martin agreed with me, talking about the use of nlp in business.
the conversation swung around to men fearing women and their power and again i said this is not strictly true although as a generalisation it is the case.
there are the faces of manifested female energy that is anger, force, ego and power and then there is the goddess. most women have no insight into their goddess nature and their power is untamed, uncontrolled and not really power at all but an energy that is destructive and undirected.
we talk about the kabbalistic meaning behind the story of adam and eve, the snake being a sexual symbol, the discussion moves around eve being the first archetype woman in the bible.
but despite my lack of religious affiliation and my loathing for religious institutions i know my stuff and i add to the group that eve was not the first woman in the creation myth. before eve god created another mate for adam, a woman called lillith and like all old testament stories originate from sumerian mythology where lillith is a succubus. in the old testament lillith is the serpent, the untamed female sexual energy that dominated adam. the hebrew texts being hijacked by the church this bit was edited and thrown out because women were not allowed to have such allusion to power of any sort let alone sexual.
there's a big discussion about men and women, power in relationships, most people have never heard of lillith but my aunt siona confirms that it is true.
my mother is silent during this discussion, she looks at me with her rage filled eyes and loathing, she does not know me one bit, she does not recognise me, she has no room to attack me or manoeuvre so she leaves.

finally i meet all my cousins again, it's been 9 years. they drop by one after the other and soon the round kitchen table is filled with them, all girls come to check jakob out, he seems to impress them with his stories and conversation, and martin and i talk about australia, martin suddenly seems reasonable towards me now, engaging and respectful, it's really weird, i guess maybe i need to accept that he cannot know how it is for me, fuck how can he, perhaps i have been to hard on him, i don't know, he can't really perceive the deep scaring that has taken place when he has no idea what to look for or how to read the signs, i don't know, i don't know how i should feel, i don't want to hold on to any resentments or ill will not with him, i don't even want to hold on to any ill will with my mother but i don't want to forget that either, i never want to feel like it's right. ironically as she holds court and interrupts all my conversation and tells everyone how wonderful martin is and how i get jakobs name wrong sometimes (i call him martin) and how hurt that must make jake feel (yes this is what she tells people) she then goes on to judge some one in the family as having bad kids saying, 'the parents say their children were bad.'
a voice inside says, 'let the children judge if the parents are bad not the other way around.'
anyways eventually siona has the good sense to get her out of the house away from me. siona must be reading me like a book now, she is an excellent woman, a strong powerful and intelligent understander of human dynamics and behaviours.
so with just the cousins and martin, jakob and myself we start to talk about how we all love hash cakes and smoking weed. thank you jesus, i've found the mother load. it's fantastic. yes that's right all the cousins love the weed. now i know how moses felt wandering around the wilderness for forty years, finally reaching the holy land, excellent. i start to tell everyone about my hash cake experience, we all laugh, even martin is laughing and jake.
suddenly it feels like my family is working.
my cousins, how can i explain them, they are amazing, iris and ozzi are jakie and sionas daughter, iris's husband is a industrialist who i met once in australia, he travels the world selling helicopters, iris is a kind of punk rocker who loves motherhood and has a wicked sense of humour. ozzi is an acupuncturist who looks like a model, she is married to a submarine commander and is about to leave for a posting in germany for three years. she is the wildest most outrageous girl you can imagine, yet she is a great mum, very intelligent and pretty funky. she likes her weed, dancing and drinking.
michelle is my age, she's divorced and is currently a tantric sex goddess or something like that, she's pretty cosmic and switched on, she has a gay son who i spoke to one the phone and arranged a big night out with for jake, martin and myself. michelle always takes the big picture, she is a great counter balance to her sister sara who is also extremely wild spirited and told me last time she had a hash cookie she took all her clothes off at a party.
then there is daffna, the sweetest and smartest, a brilliant girl who is possibly the only sensible person at the table apart from jake who if he has not been led astray soon will be. her husband guy is there to, he tells me in all seriousness that he thinks there is no hope for israel, it will be destroyed. this is sad and i know he is right.
conversation ranges from lillith to the healing of glitches in our family, it appears we have two main people that need healing, one being my mother the other is a cousin called jenny who lives in tel aviv, she hates everyone. okay compared to my mum that sounds easy and i suggest that we owe it to her to help her.
later i suggest that we hire a massive bus and go on a road trip, smoking weed, travelling around, camping out, take the kids, no parents, some good music and positive vibrations, it's time for joy.

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oh no! my mother arrives, the first words she says are some derogatory remark, i keep silent, let it sit, then she starts to tell everyone about how wonderful martin is, and how similar jake and him are, we sit around a dinner table as she dominates the discussion, ironically it's about madness. she talks about good parents, and claims she was a good parent. i feel like saying something, 'perhaps the children should judge that.' however i remain silent.
already i feel like i am suffocating, thankfully martin and jake are here to distract me.

man i must be exhausted, i've slept for about 20 hours in one straight unbroken block, it actually feels good, i'm invigorated, batteries charged and ready to rock.
the other night i went to a bbq, drunk a lot of very good wine, ate a lot of tahini and salad, flirted with a lieutenant in the army
who was the only girl there who spoke good english but i think i was somewhat needing a spliff to relax, alcohol just don't work for me. anyways as soon as i mentioned 'mushrooms' she showed me her own tattoo which is a mushroom with an elf or some sort of pixie jumping over it. it was amazing, i wanted to eat it but i wasn't allowed.
later we stopped of at a moroccan family who where celebrating a moroccan tradition where they leave the door open for anyone to enter, the guests are offered a selection of sweet foods and the most exotic looking fruits i have ever seen but i was stuffed and couldn't eat anything at all, although a belly dancer fed me a creamy white looking substance that looked like the egg white stuff that makes a pavlova, i was feeling very sick at this point and we left.
then we stopped at my cousin who fixes me a scotch, perfect, i drink it like a shot and everyone laughs, 'one more for the road huh?' i say.

everywhere i go i notice these mushrooms, they grow in people's gardens, they appear in ornamental designs, they are even on tattoos my cousins have, everywhere. i ask my cousin and she gives me a wry look, we talk about the band infected mushroom who everyone seems to love. it wouldn't surprise me that the next generation here are all psychonauts of some order.

when i came back from the wars i was a different man, i had seen to much, lost to much. a man be him warrior of high priest is only a man, and his limits will be reached where the excessive spilling of blood or holy devotion blend into something divorced from meaning, the sword that used to kill with becomes the sword that sets you free, the bible that liberated you now enslaves and kills many more than the sword ever did, the intention is blurred, what was holy is now an antiquity, what was a weapon is now an historical relic, there's meaning within meanings and even no meaning has a meaning.
i was tired and jaded, to much blood, to much toil, to much killing, i had seen my friends die in battle, i had seen my enemies die, the whites of their eyes, their pupils dilated as the moment approaches, i have seen the soul leave the body, i have seen my women go into battle and die for their beliefs and in the end battlefield and the bedroom appear the same, the only thing that is different are the players and the faces, the despair that haunts their features as they come to understand the truth, as the life force leaves the body, as the aura closes down, as will begins to diminish, that horrific realisation that it is all for nothing and all for something.
my men and i had sailed south upon a trade vessel, we were five in number, seven if you count the dog and the princess we had taken captive. she was brutalised and beaten, barely conscious and still in trauma but my men were not responsible, it was her court of treacherous lawmakers and bureaucrats, who thought we would be appeased at this offering, we slaughtered them all and then took her down, we nursed her and dressed her wounds, there were five of us left. they had crucified her, left her hanging until we stormed the walls, my small army fought until we had taken the position, there five survivors stood under in her shadow, we were bloody and beaten, we may have lost our humanity but looking at her up there with the sun behind her, blood caked body, her face beaten and a map of brutality we saw her blackened eyes and her scared chest and her tiny feet nailed into wood, her hands twitching and her hair matted and knotted something deep within us stirred.
it is at the point when you are tired of living, when you look back in refection and think what have i done, where have i come from, what is left for me, it when the joys of life are outnumbered monumentally by it's tribulations that such nilism descends upon a mans soul, no matter the spiritual strength he may have, my men and myself had transcended this, we had no reasons to live anymore, killing conquering, carnage had become an endless journey with no destination, in the name of what, a god, a king, a country, a idea and there under the cross, under the sinking sun that illuminated her body in a white halo of light shone a glimmer of something numerous, the crossroads, we could have just as easily decided to kill her but we chose to cut her down.
on the vessel we assisted crew but she remained in her cabin, we fed her mouthfuls of broth soaked up with bread, one by one we took turns in reading to her from the only book on the vessel, a story of arjuna and his council to krishna upon the eve of battle, we all enjoyed this story but the princess never really responded. the voyage was uneventful and at port i we thanked the captain and took the princess to the sanctuary.
here we made our plan, we would destroy our government, our leaders, our king, our queen, and their council, all of them would be killed. and then we would decree that our captured queen would reign. it is better to serve beauty we agreed than brutality.
and so when the princess was healed the deed was done.
the princess became our queen.
her first decree was to declare war upon the world and we in horror realised what we had done, installed a mad woman as queen.

i travelled all over the planet, home is where the heart is as far as i am concerned and my heart is big enough to span a few large land masses, but one place i always feel at home is israel. it has little to do with my history, culture or religious beliefs and more to do with an energetic sense of how israel works.
despite being thousands of years old and having an ancient timeline from antiquity the modern israel is only 60 years old and no matter what your politics or prejudice is absolutely the most intelligent countries on planet earth. perhaps this is why it is feared and vilified by everyone else. i'll write more about this later, or if you feel inclined you can trawl back through this blog to find out why.
the family apartment is beautiful, it's in the english/ french part of netanyu a small but growing town, but at night time it looks like any other place. we meet my uncle jackie whom i have not seen for 10 years, he's a lover, an amazing man and his wife siona is even more amazing. i dump some stuff and the rest of the family and go back to their place in a place called 'ata' an hour away, i do ask jakob if he wants to come but he is tired and needs to sleep.
on arrival siona gives me a hug, i can't tell you how great i feel to be away from the miserable atmosphere of london and the narcissistic madness of mum, here in the glow of normality.
siona is a social worker, she's about to meet the minister of education on a 'special needs' project and asks me to come with her, i explain i have not got a shirt or any thing smart to wear, she says, 'i want your mind, it's not the clothes that will make an impression.'
anyways we get chatting and the conversation comes to mum. i feel as though there's been some engineering here, someone behind the scene pulling my strings, guiding me to this moment, it's very strange but i know siona and she is a professional first and then a very close aunt. she suggests we create a sacred space to talk about these things and lays down guidelines. it come's spilling from my guts, for the very first time in my life i talk about my childhood and the impact living with mum has had on me as a human being. the words just come out like a tidal wave, my uncle jackie is there to he, come's in and listens and when the words stop pouring forth from me, i look at them and they say...
'your mother is the problem, not you. we know this and we know how hard it must be for you.'
they say a lot more but generally what they say is that they know how my mother is and they understand that martin is her son while i am something else. they also confirm that my dad is in conflict, somewhat scared and somewhat torn between loyalties, he is frozen into being silent.
while this probably means little to anyone else to me it is a massive affirmation that i am essentially okay, that i am on track, that i am not an accurate reflection of my mother. this is like having a new lease on life, the psychic damage in the last week has taken it's toll, i feel drained and depleted, i felt caught in something that was drowning me and suffocating and after this talk with my wonderful aunt and uncle i can breath. i sleep soundly through the night 10 hours.

last meal in the uk and mum asks me what i think of england.
'i think it has some kind of sickness, it's energetically very sick, like it has terminal cancer and suddenly everyone is realising their days are numbered. it's lost it's spirit and sense of identity, it crushes and drains it's population while offering them reality tv, sports, celebrity and the idea of a healthy democracy but there are dark forces at work within it and through it the cancer has spread into the host and my prognosis is that it is terminal, the evidence is there staring everyone in the face but you are all in denial because no one here can think for themselves.'
as usual my mother launches into a tirade against me, ungrateful, selfish, rude, stupid etc, all in front of jake, i shouldn't be surprised but i am again thinking what the hell am i doing here with these people.
the next evening we are on a plane heading towards israel and mum is sitting next to a town planner and architect from england's midlands. i am sitting between my brother who is reading the newspaper and my dad whom i attempting to engage in lateral thinking puzzles to stimulate his brain but he can't ask me more that 3 questions without demanding an answer. it's depressing me and frustrating him.
my mum asks her young friends what they think of england and they reply, 'it's sick, the whole country is suffering from a sickness, it's no longer the place we know.'
my mum tells me this later, mentioning these educated and professional men, she looks quite disturbed by the conversation.
after a thoughtful moment i tell her that when i say something she can only degrade and humiliate me, but if someone else tells her the same thing she thinks it's insightful and sophisticated and can't wait to share it.'
there's a moment when she looks at me, it's a flash but i know it is there and she knows, a split second where the whole nature of reality converges and everything is known, the truth they say comes in a blinding flash of light, and thats what she saw and i witnessed.
the healing has begun

she was a little gothic girl, lived in a dark zone, a necromantic who somehow managed to keep her job as a librarian in highgate but at night would scavenge the cemetery for a good looking corpse to idealize. it was her secret taboo, although with the advent of the net she was able to share her fetish with a few like minded people, mostly japanese girls and a german guy and four american couples and myself, although i was there purely quite accidentally.
often when i scout the internet for information on magick or on occult i’m presented with various options and it was during a search for the hp lovecraft text necronomicon that i came across the site. open minded though i am, liberated and unshockable, i was about to click away in disgust when a small image caught my eye and i clicked upon it, which in turn led me to the obscure dating site. and there disguised like any other normal dating site was a list of photographs of singles in my area.
i trawled through the images, a vastly diverse range of people appeared, men and women, some just completely androgynous, some looked very straight, some a little disturbed but the one thing they had in common was their secret necro passion although on the actual site it was alluded to, never obvious. it’s only know i can see with the benefit of hindsight.
about half way down the screen i saw her picture. very plain and unassuming, save for her eyes. her eye’s were as black as anything, and her stare was penetrating, deep into mine. the more i looked at the image the more she looked back into me.
anyway it’s embarrassing to say, i was curious but it was more than that, i was taken in completely. for a moment i thought i could click away and continue my search but there was no way i had that kind of discipline. besides her eyes held me. so i regret to say i sent her a short introductory message.
‘hello there, i noticed your photograph and it appears we share some common interests, would you like to have a coffee one afternoon.’ and i left my number and a fake name.
i re read her profile again.
‘female 25 highgate, london, single seeks companion for nocturnal activities and love craft like passions. must be over 40.’
what did i know, i was a dumb guy with an interest in the esoteric, i had no idea that the love craft part of her statement referred to something so terrible and shocking. to be honest i thought when she wrote love craft she was referring to some creative sexual pursuit.
anyways we met outside her workplace, the highgate library, and walked down the high street to a coffee shop on the corner. it was raining so we moved quickly sharing an umbrella. once seated inside i noticed her eyes again, absolutely pitch black, like two black collapsing stars, incredibly magnetic and once in their attraction it was impossible to pull away. everything else about her was plain, she wore no make up, dressed quite conservatively, spoke softly, was very well read but had never travelled overseas, she lived in a small apartment or flat as she called it a few streets away, she was a vegetarian and had a pet cat. she was also lactose intolerant.
we spoke about very safe, mundane things then she asked why i sent her the e mail.
‘well i really liked your photo, and i was interested in you i guess, i don’t normally meet people on the net but i felt a certain attraction and we have a few things in common.’
‘yes, what things?’
i had to think on the spot because i had not read the ‘interests’ part of the profile so i had no idea what she was interested in, so i said, ‘books, we both love books.’
she asked me what i enjoyed reading, ‘oh the usual, anything really, as long as it’s good. what about yourself?’
‘i like reading hermun trusky and ollivetti de havilland, although my favorite book is dora brud’s ‘death beyond life.’
‘oh i have never heard of those writers but they do sound very interesting.’
‘yes.’
‘and what else do you share with me.’
‘share?’
‘have in common?’
oh well books, and err, i like tea,’ i smile.
‘mmm and your tastes are....’
‘black, no milk or sugar.’
‘i wasn’t talking about those tastes.’
‘oh!’
there’s a long silence.
‘i’m not really sure to be honest, i just wanted to meet you, i’m sure once i got to know you we would have heaps in common.’
she smiles, it’s not a big smile but a kinda mona lisa one, an inflection i guess.
‘i found the site by accident, i don’t really know anything about it, i just saw your photo and i sent you a message and here we are.’
her eyes looked deep into mine, it was not unlike falling, i was falling, gravity had no place in her presence.
she got up and left.
‘great,’ i thought, ‘you really blew that.’

a week later she called me, we met for dinner. she wore a black dress and looked stunning, but she had an agenda and it wasn’t until dessert she put her cards on the table.
‘i need some help, are you free saturday night, around 11pm till about, well the following morning.’
‘yes of course,’ should i bring a toothbrush?’
she smiled, ‘no. but dress warm and bring a flashlight.’
i must have looked surprised but she deflected the issue by asking me how my week was.
we kissed briefly, a fleeting kiss on each cheek and she hurried away and i was left outside in the rain.


saturday night i met her outside the graveyard, technically highgate cemetery, a london landmark, it sprawls for miles, the graves of quite a number of personalities and the analogue to the gothic cemetery, it’s raining and cold and i’m wondering what the hell i am doing here when she runs out of the night and stands in front of me, looking excited and elf like, there’s a gleam in those dark eyes.
‘okay, lets go.’

i grab her, ‘what are we doing, i need to know before i go any further.’
‘you’re helping me, that’s all you need to know.’
‘but what are we doing here in a graveyard?’
‘we are going hunting.’ she clambers over the wall, i follow.
this cemetery is incredible, it’s huge and although the newer areas are well kept and accessible the older areas are overgrown and look like something from a horror film.
our flashlights follow the trail towards the crypts, overgrown and ancient, the vines have grown around the graves and tombs here, trees all look dark and mysterious in the narrow beams of light, we pass a statue of an angel preying, another laying down, there are angels everywhere, different types, different sizes, they are all silent sentinels, guardians. deeper we walk, along a narrow path, overgrown with shrubs and wild areas that are unkept and abandoned, an owl hoots and it startles me, she laughs.
suddenly the path ends and we have to walk through the overgrowth, i’m pushing away branches and navigating my way through, our flashlights hit something, white against the darkness, it’s a opening to a crypt.
the actual steps are clear, we walk up them silently, a million questions are racing through my mind but i’m to terrified to speak and i think i’m scared of the answer.
as i step into the dark corridor that leads down she grabs me, ‘can you wait here.’
‘what?’
‘can you just wait here.’
‘wait here, while you go down there.’
‘yes.’
‘why.’
‘ i have something i wish to do alone.’
‘i don’t know, look i’m not that happy about being in a graveyard to be honest, let alone waiting here on my own while you go down there.’
‘please, i will be back soon. promise.’
there you have it. i stayed on the steps near the entrance while she descended, i followed her beam until it vanished.
i don’t really know how long passed, i never carried a watch, but it must have been a while, the rain never really stopped although there was a fracture in the skies where the moon passed for a moment and illuminated my surroundings. i was in the middle of four identical crypts, they each had the steps up to the doorway, an entrance and then steps down. they must be connected i thought, underground. each doorway was guarded by, not an angel but a horrific gargoyle, a demonic monster that looked as if it was from the bowels of hell. right out of lovecraft i thought, they were not even made from the same white marble but black obsidian. then the moon passed over clouds again and the rain came down heavier and that’s when my flash light started to fade. i turned it off to conserve energy. i sat there getting wetter and wetter as the downpour increased and eventually moved inside the doorway.
i felt as if i should do something, move away or in but standing there doing nothing wasn’t the answer.
i called out, ‘miss jones.’
nothing.
i took a step in.
‘miss jones.’ i called again, no reply. i placed my arm on the left wall and thought i’ll follow the wall and if i have to come back then i just turn right following the right wall, but i wasn’t convinced if that was the solution. at the back of my mind it felt like a plan but another part of my mind had already dismissed it, and while i was caught in this neurotic ping pong match i had already walked into the crypts depths. the staircase was narrow but started to spread outwards, i held the flashlight but i dared not put it on, i would wait until i needed to. i could see nothing now, but at least i had the wall. i felt the first spiderweb after a few minutes, it hit my face, i screamed out and my hands grabbed my face wiping it manically.
‘jesus christ, this is shit. miss jones, are you there.’
no answer, i followed the steps down, each step i took was considered, i was never reckless but i was getting very anxious. each step i thought this will be the last step, each step i waved my hand in front, each wave seemed to bring some cobweb from oblivion towards me. eventually i gave up worrying about the webs and just followed the staircase, down and down, i estimate i walked down for an hour at least before i hit solid ground.
that last step came as a surprise, and i thought maybe i will allow myself a burst of light.
the beam revealed a corridor filled with spiderwebs and a bat flew straight overhead and up the staircase, i ducked and noticed a plaque on the wall, an inscription. i didn’t bother to look at it but moved onwards along the corridor stopping once to pick up a stick i could use to knock the cobwebs away and also any zombies that tried any monkey business. however holding the stick and the flashlight was difficult so i turned the light off and stuffed it into my belt.
i walked along taking long strides and then seemed to come to a turning, again i flashed the light, just for a moment. the power was dying, a narrow beam of light showed that i had reached an intersection. ‘christ.’ i said aloud, ‘what the fuck am i doing.’
i continued straight onwards. the only sound the sound of my breathing, and my footsteps and ....
what was it, a voice, a woman's voice, it must be miss jones, it must be. i followed the sound. eventually it became louder as i approached , careful not to make a sound, i pulled the flash light from my belt and got ready to turn it on as i followed the corridor to the chamber the voice was emanating.
‘darling my darling sweetheart, soon we will be together, i miss you so very much, you know i love you, you know my life means nothing without you, you know these things my love, my sweet beautiful...’
‘corpse.’ i finished the sentence for her, bathed in the faint glow from my light she lay there her arms around the remains of a body unrecognizable. he was kissing it’s head with skull bone protruding and what looked like half a head of hair. she looked at me in surprise and horror. the moment frozen as the light went out and darkness engulfed us.
‘i’m sorry, i really am, i didn’t want you to know. i’m ashamed about it but it’s love, i love her,’ she sobbed.
i’m not sure what was more shocking the fact she was in love with a corpse or the fact the corpse was a female.
all i knew was i had to get out of there, so i ran back, i ran down the corridor and up the stairs and ran out into the rain, then i ran through the bushes as branches cut and swiped my face, i ran and ran until i came to the perimeter wall. i climbed the wall and ran along the streets until i realized i was running away from where my car was parked.
i was exhausted and freaked, as i wandered back to my car. i had seen a lot of things, been in a lot of different situations, been with a number of eccentric women, i was no stranger to their tastes but never had i experienced anything like this. so shocked was i there was no drive to find out anything about who this woman was or the relationship that they have, i just wanted the memory removed from my mind, the smell of it pervaded my clothes, the sound of her voice, the horror of them in that strange dying light, the look of them, those eyes, those eyes and that dead skull, they were the same.
i cried.
when i got home i opened a bottle of johnny walker black label and drank it.
in the morning, afternoon, the sound of bells, chiming, i was laying down, lights where shining in through curtains, there was an awful taste in my mouth and those ringing bells, the phone. i reached out and answered it. the sound of breathing, soft breathing, ‘please i must see you, i must explain, i did’t want you to see me like that, i have to explain.’
i put the phone down and she never ever rang again.

it was many years later that i was in paris, walking along the left bank when i was struck by a small occult book shop. i wandered in and looked at some of these old books, mostly leather bound collectors items, rare and valuable. i had always loved the feel of books and this was such a rare find, i had visited most of the esoteric bookshops in europe but this was not listed. it stocked some gems but nothing i needed and as i was about to leave i noticed in the bargain bin a small bound book called ‘death beyond life’ by dora brud.
on a whim i bought it.
it was written in german and took me two months to get it translated and a considerable sum of money.
it was a poem of a young woman who was in love with a dead poet, later the young girl found out the poet was a woman, and she was confused but none the less had given her heart to the poet and after a long time searching attempting to track her down found she was dead from influenza and buried in her family crypt in barcelona. the young admirer is devastated but the poets poems are about love beyond death and therefore gives the adorer hope that there is such a thing. i must admit it was quite beautifully written and very haunting, lonely and romantic, it seemed to seduce you with it’s words. the style crept in under the skin, into the heart and stayed in the mind. each word seemed to have it’s own vitality and the structures of the sentences were almost perfect. i began to think about that night again, it suddenly didn’t seem as horrific, it was almost tragically beautiful.
on return to london i visited highgate.
i had never been back there, never, it had now been 9 years. i walked into the library and enquired after miss jones.
she had committed suicide 9 years ago, thrown herself into the thames. she was buried at highgate cemetery quite close to the crypt but in a different section. the library staff leave flowers for her once a month. the assistant gave me directions and i went to pay my respects feeling somewhat strange and empty. i took a bunch of roses and the brud’s book .
as i approached the grave i felt a flutter in my heart.