i finished my drink, misty finished hers left me with the transparent vial, she disappeared into the crowd after a soft kiss on my cheek and whispering something in icelandic or swedish in my ear. 
a man in a skeleton suit does a little dance around her and ignoring me completely drags her into the throbbing crowd as the music changes pace into some kinda weird hardcore tribal jungle beat, a bunch of colourful characters hop around doing some sporadic monkey dance, i watch them swallowed into the absurd throng.

a smoke machine pumps out mist and everyone seems to be lost in a friendly cloud of dry ice. i should leave, but i can't see anything, the mist is everywhere and in a room filled with people my machinations to find an exit result in chaos, spilled drinks and embarrassed faces, i'm awkward at the best of times let alone on a dance floor. i find myself at the bar and order another dark and stormy, wondering if a variation could be called dark and misty, maybe substitute the ginger beer for root beer or sarsaparilla. 

the girl in the fur bikini is moving her lips, i can't hear what she's saying so i lean in closer.

'wanna have a drink with me, i finish up in 20 minutes?'

'sure, i'd like that, can we go somewhere quieter, this noise is doing my head in.'

'yes, wait over there and i'll grab you in twenty, thirty max.'

'okay.'

i stand by the designated spot and in twenty minutes she emerges still wearing the fur but under a dark trench-coat with a faux tiger fur trim. 

we hit the streets, it's cooler out there, southerly wind blowing in after a hot day. 

'where you taking me bar maiden?'

'after my shift i usually stop in at the 'citizen kaned' i like to have a night cap. it's quiet and sophisticated, usually empty, its my secret spot to unwind.'
'secret spot, mmm, are you sure you wanna share it with me.'
'yes, i'm sure. the moment i saw you i knew i would.'
'really!'
'yes, really. so what's your name mr?'
'captain, captain mission.'
'i'm audrey.'
'well it's lovely to meet you audrey, i offer her an arm she leads me along the main street.
'so what happened to your friend?'
'ah she, well she's my er connection, more of a recreational contact than a friend.'
'ha, recreational contact, that's an interesting description, she a model?'
'it's possible, i don't know, she's kinda glamorous but dangerous so i keep her at arms length.' 
'you liked her didn't you.'
'not in the way you imagine, it's not really about like but need.'
'you need her?'
'well i have exotic tastes and she supplies me with them.'
'ahh okay, excellent, every one needs some one for something, i think we will be good friends.'
we turn into a small alley way, the street lights and headlights fade away and the walls are far darker. i can see a neon sign on the other side of the street and a doorman standing outside. we cross and approach. 
audrey chats with the doorman and then takes me up a long narrow staircase, it has a right angled turn and seems to get narrower the higher we climb.
my knee hurts but it would be very uncool to mention anything about it so i just focus my thoughts elsewhere, it's getting harder to see as we ascend into pitch darkness.
suddenly we enter a bar. it's quite beautiful, dark marble pillars and floors, luxurious soft velvet armchairs and ornate tables, crystal chandeliers from some louis the 14th ball room. i'm stunned by the beauty and attention to detail but it's the size that really takes my breath away. it reaches in all directions, almost as far as i can see, walkways lead into smaller chambers and each room seems to have an equal amount of sub rooms, like a mandela. 
the only person i can see is standing behind the bar, he's working on a cocktail the way a sculptor would a marble block.
we walk over, the bartender presents the drink, complete with garnish flourish and a beaming smile.
'think you're gonna like this one audrey, i made it just the way you like it but perfected the celestial aspect.'
'is that a syringe?' i point at the syringe laying at the bar.
'yes, it's a tool of my trade. look, i have many tools to assist me.'
with a sweep of his hand he shows me a little workstation behind him, almost like a surgeons instruments, small scalpels, twisting devices, test tubes in a large rack that stretches out, a micro blowtorch and a set of digital scales.
'geoffery is a molecular gastronomy chief who specialises in cocktails, like heston on tv, but geoffery works only with alcohol.'
'that's interesting.'
'he also is an astrologist and by working with your chart creates a drink that defines your personality. it's a bit convoluted but once he's defined your chart he can create the drink that matches your zodiac for each night of the year. so it's always tweaked slightly, so this would be my drink for tonight. thank you geoffrey.'  
'i've never heard anything quite like that, amazing.'
he smiles, and rubs his hands together, 'so i will just be needing your dates.'
'really i only really drink one drink these days,' i can tell i'm offending him, so i smile reluctantly, 'okay geoffrey, okay, ha, lets do it.'
I'm sceptical, slightly nervous as i don't drink much and yet curious.
i scrawl my dates down on a notepad. 
'vedic for you i feel.'
i nod my head in agreement.
audery escorts me to a small sunken room, for the first time i notice she's wearing ornate heels, quite high. we lounge in a huge sofa with thick velvet cushions. there's a massive mirror reflecting ourselves back at us from high up giving the effect we are much lower down.
'i'm going to wait for your drink to arrive but would you like a little taste of me?'
we giggle a little, as i nod my head, somewhat nervous at the intimacy.
audrey slips a tiny silver metal like straw into the strange looking drink and passes it to me with a beaming smile that's part cute and part daring.

i avoid bars these days but she said meet me in 'spyders' and i wasn't in a position to argue with her.

'do they sell good drinks?'

'yeah babe, the best.'

so i'm there unfashionably early waiting for the girl in a fluro fur bikini to serve me, she's taken my order but spending a long time at the blender. i watch her shaking her ass to the neo-funk beat, she's got a nice body and happy energy that spills into me. finally she presents me with a smooth perfect looking dark and stormy. i sip it, i'm very fussy about my drinks, not being a lover off alcohol this is my one and only drink. dark kraken rum spiced with star anise, organic fresh cinnamon, a pinch of clove and hint of nutmeg mixed into a very cold organic ginger beer over ice. perfect, one sip excites my lips and tongue, if a drink can't do that then it's not worth drinking.

i get my corner and wait for mystique to turn up. 

she's sitting in front of me, i didn't see her arrive but there she is, glammed up looking like some sort of exotic mermaid. i smile, 'you look great.'

'thank you mission a girls gotta make an effort these days to get noticed.

'ha!, get real misty, your the most noticeable woman in town. and for a dealer that's probably not a good idea.'

'nonsense i blend in by being beautiful in a crowd of beautiful people.'

'mmm, well it's not often i get out to bars these days,' i notice she has no drink, 'what can i get you?'

'i want champagne or a whiskey. you choose.'

i slide through the crowd and smile at the barmaid in fur, 'hey how's it going?' she says.

'it's going just fine, i need another drink for my friend there. she asked for a whiskey or champagne but i think she needs something else.'

'a cocktail perhaps.'

'yep, what's on the list tonight?'

'why don't you leave it with me, you trust me?'

'with my life.'
she flashes me a smile,'ha, you sir must have a death wish.'
'a small death wish yeah.' it's cryptic but cute and i was flirting way over her head.

i return with a blue cocktail in a tall glass. 'here.'

'that's not what i asked for mission, you never liked orders did you?'

'call it creative license misty, now what you got for me?'

'i got you some flow, it's straight out of tokyo, made this morning. i have not taken any but these are top notch.' she pulls out a little vial of crimson pills and shakes it in front of me, her bright red nails flash before me like tiny fireflies.
the vial sits perfectly in my palm, my fingers curl slowly around it and i slip it away out of sight.
'how much?'
'lets say 2 hours worth.'
'jesus misty, if there's one commodity i am in short supply off it's time.'
'two hours is not so bad, it's quite reasonable when you think about it.'
'okay, okay drink up, lets, go.' 
'darling let me enjoy my drink at least, what is it?'
'its a cocktail.'
'i know but what's it called.'
'la petit mort.'
misty smiles.

dawn ceremony, freedom blue sky flashes by from the projectile train, i'm deep in my novel page turning as the train fills with the early morning dead. there are three prime urges pulsing through my body, one is to finish this book so i can start another. the novel is 'war in heaven' by gavin smith and although it's a good story it's going on a bit to long and i need a break from the style which is violent and tech laden. i need coffee, coffee in my blood is a primal urge, a final addiction. and lastly i'm excited. i'm about to meet my friend. it's not like i have many left these days. 
i have not seen iggy starseed for about 10 years, in my blog he was always refereed to as the professor. he was my experimental lab companion as we float tanked and partook in dmt experiments changing our brains. iggy was always very extreme in adaptation to environments, pushing his body much further than i ever did so in 10 years he's recreated himself.
we meet in our old haunt, hive city. 
he's no different physically, maybe even more sinuous and serpentine, ice climbing would do that. iggy starseed is an anomaly, you would have never met anyone like him, part iggy pop, part tim o leary, part john lilly, terrence mckenna, part mark twain, part scott of the antarctic partly made in japan, while also hassan i sabbeth. 
it's rare for me to get excited about seeing anyone these days, but i'm like a fucking skool girl this morning. i grab a coffee and wander down to hive city. i stop and watch a fashion shoot, the most glamourous beautiful young lady swanning around in a silk outfit. i can't help but gaze at her as she obeys the photographers every word. 
iggy and i get coffee, he's on three shots a morning while i just have my one. we do a quick download and head off to look at various mountaineering shops and bookshops. iggy fills me in on his decade, his marriage and child. he's literally done everything he said he would do 10 years ago, and more. he's been everywhere there are mountains.
he tells me about tokyo life, tales of girls, of dance parties in blade runner landscapes, about drugs, about casualties, about what's really going down. 
the day passes very quickly, it's hard to leave but we both have to get back to our duties. we arrange another meet up, next time at the beach so he can introduce me to his wife and daughter. 
i head back, head enmeshed in interplanetary cyber warfare and hoping to finish war in heaven.

terrible beach, dawn, surf conditions excellent, i'm in. a day in the sun and surf, i watch the crowds come, i watch them go, dusk i'm crawling out the surf-life building showered and hungry, muscles aching in a good way. i grab a coconut drink, drive home, in that californian sunshine the roads are empty, everyone going the other way, my windows are down, moon roof open, laurel canyon blasting out as i cruise around looking like a strange version of jimi hendrix, feathers in my hair, colourful t shirt, dude i just need a strat and a bohemian waistcoat. i'm loving this music, it's perfect for the day, this moment, i don't wanna go home so i head north on the freeway. chase the setting sun. dreamer of dreams, chaser of suns, satellite of love. 

killer version - fingerprint file - the rolling stones

pushing through the crowded market to catch a glimpse of old nebuchadnezzar, i'm accosted by merchants of street apocalypse. a man disgusted at my t shirt walks away in disgust, he threatens val and insults the girls. i smirk him away with a black vortex annihilation strategy i picked up in tibet. these fucking assholes think they own symbols whereas a powerful symbol has many meanings.
we are jostled and pushed, drawn away from where we wish to be, the harder we head towards the building the more difficult it becomes, penetration of the mass proves impossible so i give way and we are absorbed into the depths.
i buys some interesting oils, i purchase some time, i indulge in some substance abuse, i get some feathers in my hair and follow the chaos until i can find a flow. the noise is unbearably loud, my head cannot endure to much loud noise, it's a repulsion field sending me away.
big thunderous black clouds rolling in over the buildings, on the kings street we head into a cocktail bar, it's one of my old haunts from my city days. i order up some dark and stormy's and the rum hits my central nervous system almost immediately, spiced and cold it's wonderful to feel this relaxed.
it's the first drink i've had in a long time.
we wander the streets, i poke my head in a few places, eat some halumi and chips, we end up outside the worlds best gelato place, voted by italian gourmet chiefs in rome and it lives up to it's name, the cow and moon. amazing gelato, mind blowing.
by the time i'm back at mission control everything is over. i missed old nebuchadnezzar, would have been great to see the druid in action but it was not to be. 

strangely i had mixed feelings before i read this, i was not sure i wanted to know to much about my hero, i mean i know enough but i didn't want to be a voyeur as he revealed his life to his readers through his memoir. yeah i really did wrestle with it but obviously and predictably i succumbed.
from the moment i picked it up and read the first page i was turning the page, it took me two days to complete but only as i had to sleep and work, i would have stayed up and read the whole book in a sitting. 
is it very readable.
i wondered what voice steve would write with, he's a brilliant writer and has many different and interesting styles but i wasn't prepared for this voice. it was his voice, it was very genuine and reading the book i felt like he was just sitting next to me drinking a cup of chai tea and telling me this story, slightly detached from the events by time and wisdom. 
one of the reasons i like steve so much is he's always been a really honest man and this book is an honest book. it's not pretentious, it's not literary, it's not intellectual. what is it?
i guess it's something quite peculiar. 
after reading the book you can see why people like him so much. he's smart, engaging and original and will make you laugh out loud and shed a tear as he tells his story and then there's all that fucking talent.

spend the day catching up with an old friend margo whom i have not seen in 20 years, she remembers more about my past than i can, we swap stories, drink coffee. it's nice to talk to her, she reminds me of my other friend kate, kinda same look in her eyes.
she's been through a lot, i can see she suffers a little still, i do what i can, tell her a few parables and let her consider them in her own time. it's strange as today i feel the vine in me, whispering, cruising through my blood, encouraging. i like to hear her voice, it's reassuring.
we watch the waves at terrible, i have this overwhelming urge to swim but i have no costume with me, so we watch the gentle waves break and talk about history and divorce. i have the benefit of years, decades really so i guess i'm able to offer margo something like clarity. well captain missions version of it i guess. it's a good day, margo leaves, the sun starts to fade, it's a good day.

killing horses, that's the great australian sport. everyone drinks champagne and expensive wine and places their bets and hurrah, hurrah, we cheer and shout and wave our hands in the air like demented investors, easy money baby, blood money. 
the crops smack the flesh, the knees inflame with pain, the blood races, the nostrils flare, the crowd goes wild with hunger, hunger for a win, thirst for the fall. blood vessels explode, stress factors rise, no one here get's out alive.
afterwards they say, 'we love animals, we love sports.'
these fucking people should put their minds to something more constructive, who cares who crosses the line faster, may as well race crabs, let the horses run free. human beings, disappoint me today.

struck down by a terrible fever, in the grip of depraved virus infection, i must be wretched, a chemical factory of body fluids and toxic molecules. my dreams assault me, batter my interior and i awake in some sort of tidal pool of sweat my mouth dry and filled with a hideous nefarious gas, coughed up phlegm and debris from the hidden corners of my churning internal mechanisms.
i stumble to the bathroom, like a zombie infestation, heat radiating from this pale surface of skin. i must stink of some rotten apocalyptic repulsive thing. 
when i see the reflection i am shocked, that twisting mass of black curls, the bedraggled beard, strange teeth that look like an ancient derelict graveyard and washed out pallor to my flesh. christ, i'm infected with some ebola like death germ, i'm already dead baby, a walking dead man. i clean my teeth and wash the sweat from my face, then crawl back to bed, praying to the gods, any god who will have me that by the time the church gig rolls by i will be better. 
later when dawn brings the birds and i watch them eating some seeds i sprinkle on the lawn. my heart is pulling me towards the surf but i can't go, i need to recover. maybe tomorrow....
the sun is out in full force, morning is joyous out there. i feel horrible as i crush some lemons into my water. this came out from the blue. i never get sick but i must suppress everything, i must short circuit the infection and blast it into suspended animation for tonight.
oxford arts factory, oxford street, packed with a new generation, i look at the hordes who flock the doors, a new generation of church people are here.
i meet up with wilde childe and kate away, we hang around outside waiting for familiar faces, i'm delirious, half from this terrible illness that is being held at the gates of my bodies defences, and half from sheer excitement. 
people stop by and say hello, many seem to comment on my hair, i look like a roman, a greek, a fat old testament giant. ah yeah, i'm ugly and wretched these days, inside and out but i must keep it together until the end of the night.
inside we squeeze as near to the front as possible, christ, it's packed and tight, i must be the oldest person here. suddenly the band come on and launch into a blistering, 'toy head' and from then on it's mental. further deeper has a fantastic live edge to it, the musicians have not only mastered the art of music and looking incredibly committed to their art, they are the art. it's watching them play together live, bless my cotton socks, it's fucking spectacular how they make their own peculiar unique noise.
now i've seen a hell of a lot of church gigs but this was different, it had a kind of groove, yeah, a groove baby. there were moments when the sound went outta whack, but it still had the groove. the audience were won over from the start, the band didn't have to work hard, they just had to play and i gotta say it was magnificent. highlights indeed, well they were all good but love philtre is a knock out.
i hope they can package this on dvd or blu ray or whatever, because as a showcase further deeper is the ultimate selection of songs, diverse and brilliant, a crafted performance by masters with just enough chaos to make it real. for about two hours i felt brilliant, cured of any illness, healed, i could see again, i could walk. did i mention, this is my favourite band.