sell your mother, cash your chips, mortgage the family home, hock the heirlooms, grandmas jewels, sell shares and stocks, rob the bank, do the overtime, sell your assets, put your organs on e bay baby, forego the holiday you planned, skip lunch at that fancy restaurant downtown with your girl or man, just listen to me and do what ever you have to do to get $40 and buy this 3 disc dvd and you will see why i love this band so very much, totally immersive, brilliant music and lyrics and some witty banter from the killer, the line he offers a heckler 'i'll get back to you, i'm just in the middle of a gig,' is a perfect epitaph. not that it's the end of the church, i'm certain it isn't, but there's some thing to be said for that line on a gravestone of any musician who has worked very hard perfecting his craft to the point evidenced here.
i was very fortunate to have seen this show, the same night as the dvd was filmed and the church have been documented very well here. this is three decades of music preformed over the course of three complete albums, played completely live with no overdubs, this is the very essence of a church gig, four/ (five with craig)individuals who have not just mastered their craft, they have mastered the craft of playing together, intricate interplays exist within this music, the clash of tones producing some extra dimension in sound and something i was very worried may not be captured in a live dvd, yet here it is, fully completely for humanity to send to space after the voyager satellite, just to show humans make intelligent and beautiful rock and roll. 

haunted by the underground lovers

i saw the lovers in the eighties at a small club in dee why, pretty special. i'm really enjoying this song from a new cd called, 'weekend.'

it's a brilliant video as well, enjoy.

halfway through my isolation, withdrawn from the world, left to my own thoughts, left to my own rise and demise, left within the confines of my unbound mind, left hitting a wall and left going through it, left, right, in and out old captain mission is sowing the seeds of tomorrow, casting a line and trawling the multi-verse. nature is my window, the grass, the trees, the cool breeze, the animals that adorn the land, the simple zen like day that pass.
yeah peace has arrived.
i filter through some papers and find some pages of a novel i was working on, a strange dark story, an awful tale, a true story. it's really time it was told.

"In the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. Nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. The dogma of science is that the will cannot possibly affect external forces, and I think that’s just ridiculous. It’s as bad as the church. My viewpoint is the exact contrary of the scientific viewpoint. I believe that if you run into somebody in the street it’s for a reason."
- William S. Burroughs

pond life at the front of my garden hidden away under the frangipani and the ferns a little microcosm environment needs to be maintained. some small creatures get eaten by bigger ones, and they in turn are hunted, the hunter and the hunted, and who exactly is at the top of the food chain?

in pond life everything has a place, self sustaining cycles of life and death, that's nature i guess. sometimes the big predator at the top of the chain is outsmarted by the ones at the bottom. i'm draining the pond, and there at the bottom is a cat collar, hope i don't find the cat. 

other qualities apart from size are necessary, speed, camouflage, intelligence perhaps, a little luck, a bug would not even know there was danger as it settles on the water surface, it would be swallowed hole, its life just a sudden end. i guess the bigger the creature the more chance it has of sensory awareness when it comes to dangers in the environment but for me there's dangers all around, i could slip on the moss that covers the rocks, my head explode as it hits the floor, but my awareness knows this, and animals have awareness, they smell death, danger stalking them and when it comes there is no peace to make.

the winter palace

winter palace, in the kingdom of the ice queen
permanent frost upon her throne as she hold court to the messengers from the western plains. 
her face is a mask, nothing revealed, her eyes are eternity blue, cold like the dead and haunting tomorrow. she is adorned in her furs, the fleece of a polar bear, the skin of a wild snow cat, upon her head a crown of silver, at her side the blue emerald spectre radiating it's blue throb. 
the distant howl of a nightmare wind, churning up the thoughts of loners and hermits. in the eastern tower a foolish man reads thinking he will learn a wisdom, the folly of man unfolding around him. he looks out across the empty courtyard, the silver trees obliterated by thick snow. he peers into the arched window of the winter palaces great hall and sees the faint blue glow. 
a frost spirit phase shifts on the pages of his book, a treatise on 'suffering and humour' he stands back and taps his foot waiting for the man to turn his gaze away from the window.
when he sees the frost spirit he curses under his breath, 'begone spirit, i have much reading to do.'
the spirit dances around the old mans beard, and sends tugs upon it with it's tiny hands.
'you read but you don't see, you read but you are empty, you read but you can't be free, you read so you cant just be.'
'i've no time for your riddles and conundrums,' the man mutters, begone you wee beasty.'
the spirit dances a jig, and a trail of glittering sparkles follow him around like a magic cloud.
'the ice queen is a particularly cold character, she won't give anything away, but if you catch her midnight reflection, you may just melt her down and win her affections.'
the old man looked at the sprite, 'mmm, you just feeding me false hope, like a naughty imp.'
'i'm born into this world from refraction, i come with gifts of love and attraction, if you just follow my instruction, i'm most certain you will find satisfaction.'
and the frost spirit was gone.
the man carried on reading his book, he shook away the thoughts that grew, he focused his attention of the philosophy of humour applied to suffering, he made some tea, he read some more and he tried and failed to keep his stare away from the faint blue glow.
the light began to fade, he lit a candle and closed the book, the moon was rising, over the horizon, big blue moon, tonight, he thought, tonight. what did the spirit say, catch the queens reflection at midnight, he could do that, but how, how do you catch a reflection. a mirror! 
he scuttled away at his desk and threw open the drawers, there had to be a mirror here somewhere. he searched and eventually found a small rectangular pocket mirror that belonged to his owl. he carefully put it in his pocket and checked the chronometer, he had several hours to plan his strategy.
the ice queen had been busy, she had dealt with several prisoners, her councillors, matters of state, several foreign ministers, signed three trade agreements and discussed the proposition of a war with the eastern nations with her advisors. 
she would retire soon but first she needed to attend to her sustenance requirements, for before sleeping and after waking she required feeding and every night she would her servants always filled a bath of hot blood for her to soak in and later when she was fully bathed a goblet of fresh human blood to drink from.
she slipped of her furs and gowns, stepped into the huge bath filled with hot blood, her white skin stained as she slides in slowly enjoying the warmth, candles adorn, forming a circle in which the bath is centrepiece. she let's out a sigh, and leans her head back, closing her pale eyelids.
the old man has stuck the mirror across his forehead with sticking tape, it sits right over his third eye, and now he puts on a monks robe, black and hooded the hood falls over most of his face, he tucks his chin in and obscures the mirror. 
the queen feels her body replenish as she slips on her bedclothes, she walks to the alter and takes the goblet, smelling the thick liquid. she drinks it down in huge gulps, thirsty work.
her lips stained red she walks back along the courtyard, the snow falling down heavily, almost a blizzard she smiles, a blizzard and a full blue moon, how wonderful she thinks, and out from nowhere, a figure comes towards her, a hooded man, a monk. 
she is surprised, monks have no place in the palace after dark, they usually inhabit the library or the dungeons. she has placed thousands of monks in her dungeons, the basements are filled with them, her four towers are packed with these religious holy fools, and even that old wizard cornelius black, the one who had so long ago declared his love for her was in the tall east towers, so long ago, so many years. 
she cast her mind back to his impetuous proclamations of love and affection as he offered her his ring, a stupid black band of metals and stones. his pathetic face, half lusting and half ernest, he was merely a mortal, how dare he think a goddess would endure the love of a mortal. love was something only mortals considered, gods like her crushed love, they only required fear and so she sent him away, to the towers for torture. 
that was long ago, he was either dead or in solitary, she would ask her guards in the morning, and she would have this stranger taken as well, contradicting the curfew deserved a distinct punishment but the fool was blocking her path. she felt her fingernails growing, claws ready to tear his face away.
she saw the outline of his mouth, the dark black beard glistening in the moonlight, 'begone monk for you block your queens path.'
the monk stood right in front of her, closer than his life was worth for she felt the muscles in her arm clench as she prepared to scratch his eyes out and mid swing his hands removed the hood and revealed her terrible face. reflected in his own, her hand in the mid air arc froze, her heart itself froze, and her hate froze.
the old man had timed it perfectly, his breathing returned and he let out a long breath that caused steam to run from his mouth. the ice queen was frozen in time, but she would wake soon and love him, just as the sprite had predicted.
he knew he had to wait until morning, so he waited watching her in the blizzard, as the moon cast down its light and the temperature dropped, and the wind howled and everything lay frozen, everything perfectly still and time itself stopped. dead!

all roads lead to rome, originally, right as diverse paths lead the people correctly to rome.
future tense, all roads lead to the dome.
present tense, all roads lead to home.

let's hope, today leads me home, for tonight i have to enter confrontational space, although i will apply elegant diplomacy, i will be ready to strike. i've always let things go, with a fatalistic perception but sometimes you gotta try that bit harder, kick against the pricks, challenge and stand your ground. i'm no doormat. sure i have been, i've been weak and fucking defeated but the lessons must be learnt, and sometimes i got to at least go down fighting.
it's the principle, why should some one take what's not theirs, all property is not theft unless you are a marxist, in which case you should own nothing. i'm not a marxist, i'm not letting go so easy. my tarot cards are part of me, i use them, the thoth deck has been with me since i was about 15 years old. the moon deck was designed by a talented occultist in the usa, a first edition of spectacular cards that i was beginning to understand, the voyger deck, well truth is i hadn't used them and therefore had no connection with them. then there's my books, i'm very attached to my books. yeah so what! 
my books are attached to my memories, i know what i was doing, who i was with, where i was and what i was feeling  through my books and since my memory was fucked up thanks to my brain damage i need my books. impossible for any one else to understand. 
so i'm not just throwing a tantrum over possessions, these things are important to me. i'm going to get them back or at least try.

reclaiming history
the patterns of time,
memory cathedral's
the architecture is mine
building towers to heaven
riding rivers to hell
the stolen monuments and milestones
the tolling of bells
announcing clash of the moment
the joker and thief
infinite time looping karma
certainty, in belief
some justice intervention
over interference patterns and lies
you gotta thank the stars above
for the deliverance of 
this glittering prize 

contrast in the dawn, emergence of a different day, everything has changed in the pastel colour of morning as the light touches life, my coffee cup empty, the highways mesmerizing tunnel to elsewhere, i drift into calmness and spin away from turmoil.
as fate would have it i've been instructed by my boss to take my clients to a car show, oh no!
i shake my head, car show, jesus, i had other plans, we were going to drive down to the beach and watch the girls jogging while i composed poems and ate an ice cream in the sun. i can't think of anything more duller than a car show, at bloody olympic park for goodness sake.
i get on the road, my people are wondering what they will be having for lunch, they obsess about food, it's like the one thing they all agree upon, food is good, so much pleasure in eating i guess, it's not like these guys get the chance to have sex or hang glide, they don't, i've suggested the surrogate experience but no one in a govt. dept. wants to listen,
so it's the car show, park in some huge building and walk hundreds of miles to the stadium where in the distance i can here engines roaring, the stink of petroleum and the sound of soft rock music, ac dc, blah, what kind of hell is this?
as it turns out the place is jammed packed with women in glitter bikinis and huge high heels, they require support walking they are so high up, clutching one another's arms they hand out photographs and posters, they smile and take photographs with strange looking men in baseball caps.
there's loud music everywhere, hip hop blasts from car windows, cars with big shiny doors, cars with massive wheels, polished metal gleams upon the surface of everything and we are handed paraphernalia about spark plugs, carburettors  differentials and paint, anything you can think off. i repeat, 'no thanks i am not really into cars,' my mantra. the guys i am with are laden with promotional stuff, bags of crap spilling out from huge plastic bags.
i confess i just look at the women, who all seem to want to give me their posters, and i notice that the posters are not just of sporty looking cars, no, the posters are of the women with the cars in the background. wow, it's supermodel fucking nirvana. 
actually these are not supermodels, but they are pretty glamorous and appealing and seem to be making a fuss over me, ah wait a second, it's not me they are fussing over, it's one of my clients, he always gets the girls, i don't know why, girls seem to go crazy around him. what's wrong with me, i think, haven't i got the supermodel attractor happening, obviously not. 
they give him posters covered with kisses and i just get 'have a nice day.'
nice fucking day!
one of these ladies is particularly glamorous and she's covered in tattoo's and piercings, and suddenly i feel in the middle of a middle aged crisis, i feel the heat closing in, i need to get outta here, lights burning holes in my eyes, music thrashing my peace. as i drive away i take some pleasure in the trees, all pink and vital in the sunlight, tasting spring days, rejoice. 

those days where disappointment leaks in with the rain, sydney streets all awash with tears and bad memories, i wander through newtown with a disillusioned face and a schizophrenic friend, better read than dead pushing its agenda any opportunity it can get, elizebeths always has the good stuff, tucked away, i flick through a book on marijuana cultivation, i got big plans down my time line, i flick through seven pillars of wisdom, a really old volume, parchment papers and the smell of time leaking off with the rain. i eat some vegan food, it's amazing, how i wish i could commit, i drink some coffee, it's to weak but it gets me moving as i leave behind my slug nature.
the faces move past, the king street look, inner city living, it's not my thing anymore, i need the birds, the trees, water. the city feels depleting, sucking the life force from my bones, i don't know, even book shops seem pointless, everything cheaper on amazon. 
my seasonal affective disorder kicks in big time, i find a slice of blue sky. hang on mission, hang on to that!
everything could just slip away in this day, it's a drowning day, a day ships go down, should have stayed home, should have just hunkered down for the day, written a song, looked out the window at the trees, watched my fish.
on the train i read my book, its the satisfying space opera, middle book of a trilogy, a super organism on venus has been used as a chemical weapon by a rogue element of the un. the super organism has melded with human dna and uses the raw materials to construct itself, it's agenda seems to be unknown, it appears some super corporation is running it's own tests on turning the thing into a biological weapon, the story reaches a dramatic climax as the protagonists reach the end of the line and the resulting in a confrontation of diplomatic dealings, all out war thwarted. i do like a happy ending but in this novel the protagonist is suddenly unexpectedly confronted by a ghost.
the train pulls up, the sun sets, pastel grey sky, soft washed out evening, cloudy and perfect for ghosts. 

here at mission control i usually retire after lateline, if emma's on. have you seen her hair lately?
oh she looks great and her interviewing skills are exceptional, there's no one quite like her in australia. 
anyways, around 1130ish i'm done, my spliffs out, my candles burnt down and the day begins to demand replenishment so i move to brush my teeth.
on the way i check the fridge in some neurotic impulse and open and close the door. i think i like the soft blue light washing over my face, it's portal like, some sort of discovery laying beyond. 
anyway what do i see sitting next to the yogurt, a small vial of dmt, which i smoke obviously.
the next thing i know, dmt elves are in my face, on my legs, holding my arms down and injecting me with some sort of fractal formula, i struggle for a while but these things are strong, and i recognise one from a previous journey, i don't think they mean to do me harm but they certainly want to give me something, i seem to get this idea that the only way i can take anything back into our dimension is if its inside my body, i'm pretty certain this was somehow telepathically beamed into my mind so i relax a bit and feel the pressure in my chest where the cool metallic pump hits my skin. they relax their arms and lift away from me, stepping back as i get up, my body seemingly much larger than normal.
they begin to fade, it's a hazy memory fast. i get myself to bed and fall into a deep sleep.
in the morning an idea sits in my head, it's about science discovering an intelligent creator with what's known as the cosmological constant. i didn't know what that was, something about einstein. i do some research, yeah it's about something that bothered the scientist as he was working on his theory of relativity, so he placed the cosmological constant in the formula. not sure what else it means but i think my brain was hacked by the machine elves so i spend some time researching the cosmo but then i think what's the point, those elves just gave me this, if i write it up someone else can investigate it. i just file the reports.

in the battle of memes something close to buddhism will win, although this will require optimum neural wetware, the brain open and active then the brain is not enough, buddhism is off the mind. science of mind.
eventually the non attachment, compassion, acceptance of everything sacred will tear away fear from our bones and hearts. this is what life has to be for us human beings, a reasonable slow, steady as she goes approach to logical intuitive possibility, casting aside the idea of power and control. before we get to this point the other memes will slug it out, messy, nasty cycles of history will reach a higher frequency, everything happening at once, war, famine, disease and death, all interconnect in the globalised homogeny of entropy, and then the veils will lift, are lifting, you can already see the truth from the lie, the good guys are the bad guys, the up is the down, the in is the out, the white is the black, yeah these are the times we live in, if you don't disengage your investment from it, it will eat you up! yeah your atoms will be devoured by an unconscious fear, fear of americans, libyans, communists, socialists, film critics, who cares, these people just cling to ideas to define an identity that betrays them, what's an idea but an idea! how about clinging to the idea of being free, happy and liberated from attachments to ideas. the most dangerous idea!
yes now is the time to make love.
now is the time to make art.
now is the time to play.
now is the time!

i have no agenda man, not when it came to you, i'm just thrilled i got to meet ya dude, and i love ya and all that jazz. your work fed me for years, it will feed me for the rest of my life and that's all i want from life. nourishment for the mind, the rest is just cosmic goop. so much of it coming in under the floorboards but authentic beauty in art just shines through the foggy atmosphere of this civilisation.
i discovered a place tag i'd taken from a table i sat with ya when you got an award. i was so happy for you, i always wanted someone else to appreciate you as much as i did, i guess it was selfish and childish but it was a special evening to see my passion for quality validated, i didn't feel so...alienated. it's like when i meet some one who thinks 1984 is the best novel ever, i'm left feeling connected by something. anyways i dunno why i'm writing this. normal service will be resumed tomorrow!

glorious blue skies mine, tee shirt weather, i'm digging today with its sunshine and smiles, beautiful trees, open door policy, dogs wagging tails, birds singing.
what a day!
what did i do with it, frittered it up in smoke, played with my dog, gave him a shower and shampoo, played frisbee with him in the garden, made him a big fresh veggies and pasta feast.
fell asleep on the sofa after eating some home made lumberjack cake, ah, perfect!

reward

dead or alive

captain mission

wanted for thought crimes, man of words, man of shadow, man of light captain mission, on the run from the galactic police, last sighted around the tau ceti star system. do not approach, consider him dangerous, a chameleon master of disguise and deception, a mesmerist, a manipulator of thought. a space time traveller chased down through seven dimensions for his nebulas actions and esoteric deeds, shoot to kill!

i summoned up a lesser demon last night, after accidentally operating a pentalpha ring, it was an ugly looking thing, pathetic really. it's name was alelouith and it had tiny red wings upon it's back, not large enough to lift him an inch above the ground. he crawled around on my rug like a creature, i watched him for a while. 

he was babbling away in some god forsaken language, possibly early version of ouranian barbaric, spluttering out demented fractured sounds from it's wide mouth and hissing like a reptile.

the thing was disoriented and angry and eventually it stopped it's wanderings and noticed me staring at it.

it muttered it's gibberish and pointed it's finger accusingly at me as it began to march towards me. i blew it over with one long exhale, just like blowing out a candle, watching it rolling backwards and then i grabbed the choke chain that my dog usually uses and put it on alelouith. 

for a lesser demon the thing was assertive, it hollered at me, stomped it's red webbed clawed feet, even shook his strange three claw fingers at me in some kind of odd angry fist. 

a stream of smoke expelled itself from it's nostrils, and for the first time i noticed the hundreds of tiny fangs that filled his mouth. he seemed to have multiple sets concertined in his mouth.
the thing took a few hours to imprint with a simple behaviour modification, bad behaviour = pain.
it calmed down after i fed it some dog food and gave it some water and i filed down his outrageously sharp claws during which he nipped me with his teeth so i filed them down as well. my toes was spurting blood all over my rugs. 
i ran up to the bath and washed the blood away, leaving a trail of blood like a splatter scene from a dexter murder. i wrapped it in bandage with a hydrogen peroxide dressing. 
when i returned downstairs alelouith had put on a dvd, it was breaking bad series 6, walt and jessie were stealing chemicals. alelouith had his hands buried in a packet of goji berries, he was sucking down a coconut drink and making a mess all over the sofa.
i couldn't let him stay, so in the evening i preformed a banishing ritual. he looked at me, his sad little eyes glimmering and affectionate as i drew a pentangle in the air and said the words. i laughed and he vanished in a puff of smoke leaving a few drops of tears in a tiny pool on the floor.
these beings just need tough love i thought as i made my cocoa drink and prepared for an early night.

all point bulletin, suspend belief, nothing is as it seems, nothing is true everything is permitted, so say's the od man on the mountain who must be dead by now, bones turned to ash. laws are broken, faith is misplaced, all currents of intelligent thought end where they start, unless your thought is free from entrapment, it's a mindset worth pursuing, ask your self two questions
does it entrap me?
or
does it set me free?

victorian london, down in old whitechapel, a figure dances across the rooftops. he's got the wings of a vampyre, the beak of a bird, he has the tongue of a serpent and claws that are curled, he moves in the fog, like a phantom figure, terrifying children who lay in their beds, he's an assassin and cut throat contracted killer, he's the nightmare trapped in the walls of your head, and what ever you do, don't look back, its,
spring
heeled
jack!

in the shadows, in the shadows, 
something hideous waits
in the darkness, in the darkness.

on cobble stoned streets, lit by soft gas light, cats play games with the mice and the rats, while up in the rafters hanging out in the belfry, a mysterious shape jumps a great leap, plucks a poor stranger right of his feet, slices his guts, leaves him exposed, a feast for the ravens followed by crows, yes he's a phantom of londons mythological maze, whispering vengeance he's come to collect, an expert of death and related subjects so what ever you do, don't look back, it's,
spring
heeled
jack!

condemned her soul wandered the time lines for a thousand years until the deviant moon returned to its rightful. she deceived herself and those around her, delphic oracle turned chaos witch, one side of her face was beautiful the other ugly, she was locked in an alchemical battle and loosing fast. sad to see such potential wasted, arrogant lizard nature eating away, ego deceiving her heart, sound healer corrupted at source becomes just noise in a background of fakes and charlatans, redundant, an butterfly growing back into larvae, no sense of evolution. self condemned!

a confession.

i fell in love over a series of months with the host of lateline, emma alberici as she interviewed her way through the usual suspects. in the studio face to face, you can see the men she interviews all succumb to her feminine charms, her charming smile that sings siren like across the table, down the cable through the satellites orbiting the earth, if only they could for a moment be given consciousness as emma's image flickers through the circuitry, they would know that in that moment, humanity, beauty, truth and intelligence passed through the wire like some form of divine intervention touching their satellite hearts. 

yeah emma, you are by far the coolest woman on tv, cooler than the fake's host quiz show dummies, the  reality shows, the pompous cooking shows with all their dead animals and cakes, all those moronic comedies that fail before they start. 

to see her in action, a strong woman in a mans world, sticking it to the man, retaining her femininity, a  brilliant mind, rare on the abc these days.

 

  

recently i watched 'the master' a film that could also be titled, 'how memes work' and i'd suggest you rent it asap. apart from the acting, script and brilliant links to the birth of scientology and l ron the film shows us how a frail mind can take on anything, it is only belief that drives the engine.
be prepared for a long drawn out story, as freddie, a lost soul stumbles into the lives of 'the cause,' and it's enigmatic leader, lancaster dodd aka, the master.
the film's ambiguous conclusion leaves us wondering at the effectiveness of the process, especially as freddie is worn down by the repetitive processing that eventually brakes his resistance down. his substance abuse and dysfunctional violent temper battle with the program leaving him in a state of limbo but eventually he reaches the fork in the road and by then it's to late, he has been audited.
although the film is not about scientology the similarities are far to obvious to ignore and the real master in this film are the actors who are magnificent, the leads seem to be a study in contrast, one holds himself inwards the other spirals out, and then there's a point in which they intersect. brilliant film, go see it. 

up on the coast i don't really get much radio signals but i do get the abc who broadcast parliament question time twice a day.

i catch it almost every day and if i'm not driving to work i'm at home watching it on tv.

let me tell you, it's very different from what you see on the news, the news edit bits that some guy thinks is interesting as a soundbyte, which is considerably different from the context in which it's said, in fact you get a very good reminder that the map is not the territory. 

for example when the govt. decided they could never meet a surplus they raided savings accounts that had been inactive for three years. it used to be seven. the bill was given 20 minites only in the senate, as most bills are rushed through without adequate debate or deconstruction, the fact is the bill was passed in april and banks were told they have 24 hours to contact the holders of these 'dead accounts' to deposit something or, make a withdrawal, after which if nothing was changed the government raided the bank accounts. 

wait a second! 
is he talking about greece? 
that's what your thinking right?

no i'm talking australia 2013.

anyway the bill returned as an amendment during the last week of sitting as the banks were all saying 24 hours was unreasonable, they couldn't be expected to locate and get a response from the account holders.

the liberal speakers pleaded with the govt to apply some democratic process to the passing of bills, discussion, time to read them, some of these documents are about 600 pages long yet the liberals get them the night before. 
question time is incredible, you get a really accurate sense of how these people are locked in to their mindsets. 

labour - a bunch of thugs and egotists, looking for a way to control you.

liberal - a bunch of merchant bankers who are driven by economics.

greens - reds

the australian clive palmer party - a titanic

the australian sex party - fantastic policies, sexy tee shirts and reasonable attitudes to modern australia. 

anyway kevin rudd is now our pm, leading his revolution, you know what? i'm just sick of the skool revolution, the green revolution, the edukation revolution, the health revolution etc. did we get asked about having a revolution?
did we hell.
and since when do governments decide to have revolutions against the people they govern. 
for fucks sake kevin, get back in your box and lets get back to being reasonable. we do need a revolution, we need one against stupidity and these thieving, lying, power crazed egos who are raping the future of australia for some un world agenda. 

midnight in libeteria, time hangs in space, the clocks suspend belief, val and i are setting up my studio, my speakers don't seem to have output, cables are everywhere, keyboards and effects strewn across the floor, i'm watching it come together, while making dinner and serving drinks, and smoking a spliff, words pour out my head, i have so much in there, songs about monsters in human form, songs about distant suns and sons, songs about death, songs about love, songs that go somewhere, songs that go nowhere, songs that explode, songs that travel, songs that end in hypnotic regression, songs from the future, songs from the past, songs from the other planets and worlds, science fiction songs, inner space tunes, songs that go 'pop' songs that sine light, songs that make you feel like you heard them before, songs that penetrate your heart and make you cry, songs that bring joy, songs from over the rainbow and protest songs, folk songs, ham fisted blues, yes they all need a birth.

i feed my fish their little pellets, one can't see very well, i have to almost hand feed him. he was dying when i first met him, but he is much better now, he needed nurturing and some sustenance. the other fish is capable and independent, he can find his own food, and i've watched his technique of stealth, stalking and fast moving attacks. 

they eat, swim, sleep and dream.

the lizards get their food, it's the only time they run to me. they drag it away to a sun drenched rock and eat it leisurely, eat, they sleep and they dream. lizard dreams are filled with ancient times when they dominated the land, knowing power savage and raw, on the cusp of some form of intelligence beyond survival, when catastrophe changed everything. 

pan and i chase a frisbee, he loves to play with me, knowing that i like to hang out with him in the sun, he wants to please. he loves unconditionally, and it's been an education for me, as william james once said, 'to know love, look to the eyes of a dog.'

he likes to eat, play, sleep and dream.

the birds that flock down for their seeds also sing, they sing stories of the bird myths and legends, they see the earths magnetic fields, they see the currents of the atmosphere, they see the temperature shifts and the structures between sky and earth. a tree to a bird is like a synaptic nerve, filled with information, the bird like a spark carries it away, because birds like to play, they like to eat, they like to sleep and dream and they love to sing.

me i have to feed the beasts, i have to play with them, then i can feed myself and sleep and dream.

but there's something else, other compulsions, driving me forwards, some neurotic impulsive directive i have no choice over, the need to write. 

the vama marga journey could be summed up as, it's transformative, an exaltation of the feminine principle, it violate's deep traditional social and personal taboos that keep the aspirant separated from tribal normative values and induces a radical inversion to authority, orthodoxy and convention of any kind. its not for everyone, and finally it confronts with the reality of pleasure, joy and mortality.

the left path historically has been judged to be sinister because of the division of the brain and the way there are left brain dominated people outnumbering right dominated, all experience reality as duality, this extends back to ancient sumeria where left was given a negative value. one has to be bad the other good, but these don't really have value unless you transgress the laws of the universe.

in tibetian buddhism, hinduism, abrahamic religions and the new age movement, the left is considered feminine, the right masculine. these cults in their religious structures have kept the feminine energetic principle gagged and bound in fear, although in esoteric traditions it remains embedded within a symbolic code that has been obscured, for a good reason some would say. we could call this magick for want of a better word. why is magick so concealed?

i think maybe because it's from before the fall off man, a thinking technology that existed in atlantis, capable of manifesting in the material plane, when we truly lived in a non dual age. if we are living in the fall off man, then the answers to escaper can be found in the rise of women, or the feminine principle.

the religions of the world all share similarities with various cults, they obscure the truth, they use power and control as mechanisms to disassociate the seeker. 

let's look at what each one of these cults offer on the surface.

the new age movement is commercialised industrialised re-packaged old age movement with free market churches in arenas and conference centres where information can be purchased for a few hundred dollars. it fails because truth is the journey not the destination and everyone's journey is unique. plus it's always better to believe people who say they are on the road to truth and doubt the people who say they have found it.

western middle class buddhism offers a safe secure option with no commitment from anything that threatens the ego. therefore it fails.

the jewish tradition is to far removed from it's mystic connection, most jewish people have no idea that within their own kabbalistc tradition god has a wife, genesis is not a literal translation of events but a multi dimensional hieroglyphic window into the many levels of reality. the other books that make up the old testament seem to be a  collection of various texts, the only one that really has any relevance is genesis, the others are basically a collection of historical rabbinical and judicial ideas. the modern jew is trapped in everything but what the mystical connection of his religion asks from him, embrace the feminine to know god.

christianity is the mystical connection in action, the ultimate superhero was jesus, the blueprint for the self actualised, love your enemy, even the chaos of society that we find ourselves living in, forgive them, love them, in seeing divinity in this chaos we can find salvation from it.

to walk the sinister path one must contextualise ones own feminine nature and encourage its growth and integration with the masculine one. 

incidentally this is where contemporary feminists go wrong, they fail to acknowledge the feminine is part of the masculine and take it to an extreme where the male energy is emancipated yet running rampant within themselves. it's a paradox and can only be thwarted by union of the polarities through spiritual means not political.

unfortunately most of these religions are now just power and control structures with little to do with divinity.

in tantric terms vama marga (vama) has three meanings, feminine, left and contrary. 

'contrary' is interesting, it alienates from the herd and memetic parasites that attach themselves to our minds and call us back, the aspirant becomes almost an outcast because initiation in the path is estrangement and alienation, you have to step outside of previous secure borders, self exiled, not empty acts of a social rebel but about responsibility. 

it's in the sun, it's in the heart, it's in the acts of love, it's in the elements of grace, it's a kind word and whisper, it's a light that shines, it's the bending of time, it's the movement of space, it's the chemical surprise in a remote geography of the mind, it's hidden in nothing, it's the flesh, the spirit and the small deaths of rebirth.
it's the energy that powers every atom, it's the collection of thoughts that ceased the moment you let them, it's the channels of energetic impulses you are not aware of even when they are the most intense the human experience offers. sex makes the world go around, it's a powerful motivator for all living beings and it's pleasurable, addictive, sustaining, healing, healing, loving and creative. above all else it unleashes a primal energy that has been denounced by moralists and religion. imagine harnessing that energy, moving it through the body and into the brain, opening channels that are dormant, kundalini awakened by interaction between man and woman, fission and fusion, positive and negative energy, time and space. in the duality of the universe these are polarities but we can bring these together, in esoteric schools this is the act of focusing energy into a creative force, and i guess if your skilled, manifestation. i should add here there is little point in manifestation of anything other than love and healing. anything else is an indulgence that probably will backfire. the tantric practitioner is only concerned with love and light, even though the age is one of destruction. the union of shiva and shakti, material and spiritual, according to the practitioners of vama marga this will lead to some kind of spiritual enlightenment.