still sick with the whooping cough plus a cold as my immune system fights back but my sleep deprived nights keep me in a grey area of permanent suffering. chest pain, coughing fits, blood. let's face it i'm a biological weapon at the moment, a walking hazard. the doctors don't know what to do, do they ever. it's all just infection management, that's what doctors do these days. 

i do have a strange interest in the narco culture of mexico and i was wondering where this strange thing came from so i looked in the mission library and found the source, 'power of the dog' by don winslow which i read about 10 years ago and picked up for a re read. jesus it's horrific, uber violent and gritty but so well written i'm devouring it. what a story, from the 1970's to 2004 it tracks art keller the protagonist against don miguel angel barrera. they actually start of as boxing / drinking buddies but as art progresses he sees his policeman friend is not quite what he seems. 
while the novel packs a punch and moves at a terrific pace it is accurate and based upon a true story although names are changed and this shines through as the characters are written so well. fuck man, it was /is a good book, i'm really enjoying it a second time around.

i guess also that my time in mexico was very impressive and impressionable experience, such a friendly warm and cultural place despite the poverty. i never saw the el narco side thankfully, it was mostly weed and peyote and by their nature these substances never brought much heavy karmic energy, however cocaine, changed everything. and from then on as the colombians moved in they pre date anything IS would do in barbarity. 
i was quite amused when i read recently IS had interfered with a smuggling operation by el chapo (guzman) who is perhaps the most infamous drug barons. he sent them a letter 'my men will destroy you. your god cannot save you from the true terror my men will levy at you if you continue to interfere with my operation.' 
i think they got it.

time for a new god. snake serpent, falcon or hawk the all seeing eye, the passing time. be it brother death and sister rebirth, the legion or the scorpion. burrower, ground dweller, air or sea, the influences cast upon the many. it is the age of the squid, the ouroboros as we eat ourselves in an act of political cannibalism.
who do you vote for?
i personally wouldn't recommend it as it only encourages them. don't buy that guilt trip or social responsibility, the games afoot. don't think about the value of your vote, it's rigged, the dead have just as much say as the living. just look at the electoral roll, people vote more than once, clusterfucks abound.
left or right involves marching somewhere. one foot in front of the other. do what we will you to do is the only law in the political maze. 
should the uk exit europe? it's a done deal, it don't matter how many anti establishment people say we should stay in, very few will notice that they are actually the establishment now, on the same side as the banks and big business. very few will notice that there is more freedom in independence than brussels unelected bureaucracy. eat your self now, save time. the game was rigged the moment you thought you had control.
  

i have just finished one of the best books i have read, not quite a fictional narrative but speculative, philosophical and natural history, plummets us to the world of the vampire squid and our relationship as humans to this incredible alien creature. man, it was a challenge to learn all those new words but i absolutely loved this book. not because it was an outstandingly interesting read which it is but because the writers have used their imagination and applied it so surgically towards a slice of reality we would never expose no matter how closely we look. it's an almost political treaty. i fucking love this book and i'm probably going to have to read it again a few times as theres so much information and ideas within that one single read is impossible to absorb it's richness. 

passed my first aid exam, lookout, i may just save your life.
i got hooked over the last month on an old show called 'northern exposure' it was on during the late eighties, early nineties. it's focused upon a new york jewish doctor who gets sent to a small alaskan town to work off his university fees, he's there for 4 years and although it looks at his culture shock it's also a meditation upon humanity. the characters are amazing, the script is so far ahead of its time it's only analogue is MASH despite being completely different. 
the dr. is the least likeable yet he's the person we would all relate to the most, being from a modern city and used to what we call civilisation he is riddled with insecurities and neuroses. but as all good stories his arc follows his change and gradual shift in nature.
man, i love this show, so many wonderful characters and ideas run through it, and despite being old it's subtext is as relevant as ever.  

i'm still ill, the whooping cough has a grip upon me, i have used various treatments the most effective being raw garlic. i eat massive amounts of organic garlic each morning, and it's really helped. 
i also managed to get a new car, my dream car the new XV which is a small miracle considering it came about in a strange yet typical way for me, on the very day i had to register my old car. anyway the XV has all mod cons and i'm really happy with it, except it is automatic not manual. 
so that's my story.

the church- so love may find us

the western civilisation 

superseded by the eastern illumination.

living on the fringes, eating radioactive cheese and dandelion soup, we were casting the i ching down in the crystal caves. i was listening to some 'jack frost' on my headphones, it was the third album, 'lost frost' a collection of found songs unearthed by the remaining member steve kilbey, it was the only music we could play due to a large magnetic storm that wiped out all digital information in 2019, somehow i had one album left on my device that would play without any interference, it was a miracle. the rest of my music had been reduced to short bursts of distorted song parts but mostly static, hiss and crackles, unlistenable. 

i was in my own world enjoying this soft escape but around me shaman and wizards were concentrating upon the castings and filling the cave with blue smoke that formed strange patterns in the air.

the old wizard with his long beard consulted an old book and passed me his burning spliff, 'hexagram one, the creative' he muttered. the shaman and his assistant seemed to confer but everyone knew it would end in a kiss, those crazy lovebirds couldn't help it, they were madly in love and were not ashamed off it. it was cool, we loved them for it.

'creative,' the old man whispered, he passed me the book.

i scanned the writing, and found the words, 'the movement of heaven is full of power. thus the superior man makes himself strong and vital.'

the cave fell silent, someone asked me what it means.

i considered the best way to answer, i cleared my mind, and let the words come.

'it means, success will come from the primal chaos of the universe and that everything depends upon us seeking 

happiness by perseverance in what is right, but we must maintain our 

spirit, keep it vital and healthy, free from contamination, 

we must be free from our mental conditioning, physically strong.'

i stood up and did a little jig, that baseline always makes me want to dance around. i walked out to the edge of our camp and looked out at the valley. dense jungle stretched down along the ravine and on the other side the wreckage of a city. mostly derelict and abandoned by bipedal life, it was said great slugs now inhabited the relics, slugs, worms and centipedes. we had seen many centipedes, bright coloured massive strange things, some covered in spikes and some furred, others were shiny and reflected light in a dull sheen of black. our hunters had brought back a very large carcass of one they had killed. the people that ate from it's flesh died awful deaths, long and endured suffering and vivid hallucinations tore the mind apart before the body. that was almost forty years ago, no one had ever returned to the city after that, and the wise ones said it was an evil place.

we cultivated fruit and vegetables, we ate no animal flesh except the occasional fish the watermen caught. 

i had eaten fish once, when i was a child, my uncle fed me a strip of smoked fish. it was salty and slightly strange, not something i would repeat but the lure of seeing the ocean was very strong, all those years i felt it, a gravitational force pulling me t the perimeter. the shaman said i could not leave the safety of the community until i had passed the elemental ritual. 

i had been given hexagram one, the creative. it was time to face the elemental. i inhaled the spliff and let the plant spirit guide me.

that night the community watched as i was prepared. bathed by the women, dressed by the girls, painted by them in black and purple, i walked out to the tribal elders, the chanting and drumming echoing out down into the valley below. stars held in place by the thick textures of night. it was perfect. i had no fear within me, only the need to complete my ordeals and take my place and title. 

the elemental rituals decipher ones place within the tribe and i had set my heart upon being a waterman which would mean i could explore the oceans, rivers and waterways. i knew i would not fish but i would discover new things, new possibilities for us. perhaps a new land. rumour had it there were floating land masses out there, places undiscovered. i would seek them and claim them for our community. 

the drums stopped and then the chant. i stood in silence and the shaman approached me with his crystals and smudge sticks. then he gave me the medicines, and i fell to my knees. 

first the wind came, it blew through my skin and lifted me up above the ground. i hovered there and when it stopped i fell upon my back.

then the earth covered me, ate me whole and although i struggled i knew resistance was futile as it filled my mouth and worms ate my flesh down to the bone. 

then came the fire and i was ash. it consumed everything i was, leaving dust.

and finally the water.

but it was not over. there was another ordeal, another element they called ether. we had very little knowledge of it, the wise people said it never manifests in ritual, it is elusive and reluctant, it is mysterious and unknowable. the last tribesman who had served the ether was lost in mythology and song, we sung his song sometimes but it was in an unknown language and no one really knew what it meant.

my flesh started to spilt apart, i could feel my atomic structures dissipate and the random natures of chaos tore my soul apart. i was everywhere, and nowhere, i was all and nothing. lightning bore down upon us, the heavens fell upon us, we were rendered in fear at the unknowable. even the shaman looked wide eyed and shocked. when i reassembled i was no longer myself. 

everything was silent, they walked around me as i caught my breath, they looked at my eyes, my teeth, my skin, my face, my feet and hands. i was panting, but my breathing was regular and became strong. i could feel my lungs engulf the air with a new vigour, my body pulsed with strength and power. the shaman approached and i asked him, 'am i a waterman now?'

'no. you are something else. a spirit of chaos.'

'chaos,' i said the word back, what is my role in this tribe shaman?'

'to destroy it.' he looked upon me as though seeing something for the first time, his face looked certain as though faced with an ultimatum from which there was only certainty.

    

i'm approached by an agent, they have been scouting for two days, cat and mouse, octopi and seahorse, they elude the obvious and therefore i have already made them.
i'm processing information, advice for the agent, 'hide in plain sight, never wear a primary colour, to make yourself invisible you must do much more than blend in, you must blend out,' but the advice fails to be uttered coherently as i am disengaged by her smile, it's very appealing and magnetic.
'you are very observant mr. mission.'
'it's just mission.'
'i took precautions, used all my skills,'
'i'm sorry, i have enhanced perception.'
'is that from magickal training?'
'no it's probably from psychedelics.'
we are in the street, face to face, she's starting to get nervous so i suggest a coffee shop i know.
inside we make ourselves comfortable, order our drinks. i lean in, 'you may as well just be honest with me.'
'yes i may as well be.'
'i work for humanitech, it's an artificial intelligence company that has the technology to upload people into a new body. we transplant their augmented brain and use nano technology to keep data stored inside it.'
'data?'
'yes behaviour patterns, thought processes, information on how the subject thinks. we do this for about ten years prior to death.'
'my brain is quite happy within this body at the moment.'
'ah. forgive me mr. mission, err mission, that's not why i am here.'
'oh. i assumed you must have been surveilling me to gather information?'
'well yes, but that was just to understand you beyond the dossiers i have read.'
we exchange a glance and she adds, 'interesting reading by the way.'
'so, what do you want?'
'help. we need your help.'
'how?'
'humani has been working for a decade, the team although small is incredibly powerful and has made great progress they are the best in their fields but we have hit upon a problem, a dilemma. a spiritual quandary mission. we have not considered two areas of the human experience in our planning.
'one would be karma.'
she leans back, surprised.
'yes, yes what are the implications?'
you would have to ask a buddhist monk or hindu mystic.'
'we have, they just smile but offer no solution.'
i smile. 
'please mission, what do you think about this?
'there are karmic issues involving the subject, personal karma, your intervention may be inhibiting the subjects path to enlightenment, but then again maybe it is the subjects path to become reborn as an artificial intelligence or replica, it is not for me to say. you can apply the same rule to your own karma, one cannot begin to comprehend the delicate machinations of what is right action with a brain that has limited understandings of such cosmic designs.'
'mmm, so the answer is you don't know.'
'no the answer is you don't know.'
'that will not help us at all.'
'your second enquiry is how do you map the subjects metaphysical intelligence. mapping consciousness is comparatively easy up against mapping the area of unconsciousness which is impossible no matter how much nano-tech you have at your disposal. but there is a way.'
'how?'
'transplanting the brain only gives you one single intelligence, but if you transplant the heart and the guts, you will have the three intelligent aspects of human beings. the heart is part of the intelligence system, our unconsciousness is connected to our heart which is why the electrical discharge of the heart is equal to the brains. but the gut, that's where we are all really controlled from. the gut is where various bacteria organise create colonies that also regulate the health of the entity and act as an instinctive intelligence,  therefore until you have replicated these patterns and intelligences one can conclude humani is a long way from creating immortality. however it may be limited to manufacturing cyborgs.'
'i don't think of them as cyborgs, they are more accurately described as facsimiles.'
'whatever they are, they are not real and therein lay's the problem.'
'you can say that about any art form.'
'art is an expression, you express less than the original with your facsimile's.
'so, you think the exercise is pointless?'
'no, i think it's worthwhile but you should be aware that what you are doing is diverging along a pathway that deviates from natures and therefore cannot be valued as real unless it is enhancing the divine and cosmic agendas. you invest belief in a science that is man made, reduced to our level of understanding through technology, but technology and biology are two different components.'
'but biology is a technology.'
'that's like saying a car has personality.'
we sit in a moment of silence, i can see her mind working behind her big open eyes. she sips a straw half submerged in a green drink made from vegetables.
'why didn't you order a coke?'
'i don't like sugary drinks, besides they are really unhealthy.'
i smile, and as i gaze between her eyes, clouds part, the grey fog of incomprehension begins to clear and light shines through.
'do you believe in god?'
'yes,' i say, i don't claim to know what form a god takes but i do believe in a principle at work within everything that has intelligence and direction. it has given us freedom and we create prisons.'
'like belief?'
 'all things are prisons unless they set you free.'
'are you free mission?'
'no more than anyone else but i can see the bars of my prison and that's something that offers me a different perspective.'
'do you remember what it was like, to be free?'
'yes, william blake describes it well. it was like being innocent.'
'child like'
'similar but with a wisdom. a kind of love for all things and less complex thinking processes.'
'we evolved.'
'yeah well evolution is basically being set free within our environmental limits. free will or determinism.'
'and i thought it was radiation effecting our genome.'
'through the prism of science i guess you could claim that to be true, but science has limits which is why mysticism is closely related to it. one day science will reach a point where it cancels itself out, scientists only speak in terms of mystics but with different words, different languages.' 
'it's been interesting talking with you, i guess i better make my report.'
'yes, i have to make mine to.'
surprise crosses her face, 'are you an agent as well?'
'yeah but i have know idea who my employer is. i just file my reports.'
she smiles, a little uncomfortably and leaves me sipping my coconut water. 

slow crack seeps light into my morning, spilling from the horizon across yonder oceans. my penultimate blue circumstance finds me down on the shoreline, wading in shallow water in exultation of the source of light in this universe. it's dawn and the day is breaking out into perfection. colours bleed away into one another, the sound of the sea is the sound of living, blood circulates through my body, the ceaseless pulse as flesh meets spirit.

for a moment i inhabit all dimensions, if only i could stay like this, everywhere and nowhere, a vast explosion of now.

snap back mission, the elastic surface of consciousness pulls me back into another day. i wanna just escape but newtonian physics is such a drag.

back on the shore people are moving around, joggers and dog walkers, fishermen and paper delivery boys. some yoga women stretching in the sun, silhouetted against the water, it all looks pretty as a postcard.

i walk up the hill, to the lookout, not really for any other reason other than to look out. i see up the coast, the entrance in the distance. i asked someone what the entrance was the entrance to. they gave me a good answer. it's the entrance to the north coast.

i gaze out at the ocean, remarkable patterns of waves down below, a few boats rocking gently in the harbour. some pelicans follow a fishing boat into shore, it's a beautiful thing to watch, simple and real. my head starts to de-clutter. 

the phone call from work, i can't really talk still, splutter a few words and then cough. they apologise and hang up. i wonder what that was all about.

i'm decompressing from work, it's good, my bones begin to relax, another week and i'll be almost normal. i go drink some japanese tea at the taiwanese organic place where the vietnamese girl works. i'm not sure how but we end up talking about schools and education, how when we went to school we didn't want to but now kids love it. i say i never learnt anything at skool, it was a waste of time for me. they laugh and i take my tea and sit on the bench watching the waves and listening to a guy playing mandolin. his song wafts across the way like a wonderful soundtrack to the morning, a harmonious synchronisation of sound and colour. the days are slow and simple. i am enjoying this time free from working, free from everything. it's good to just relax and smell the flowers. let my head empties out a trail of junk. 

still coughing and sweating, chest tightens like some awful heart attack type symptom, my head spinning as i'm literally on the verge of passing out. i make my way to the doctor where they say i am suffering from asthma, make me buy ventolin and a spacer. my initial attempts make my teeth feel weird, metallic and heavy. i don't like it, but the cough gets worse.
seven days later i am with a client in a doctors getting his flu shot. the doc says to me, 'have you seen someone about that cough?'
i tell him i did and i was diagnosed with asthma. 
'no,' he says, 'that's not asthma.'
he writes out a script and says take this antibiotic.
a week later the cough feels slightly better but soon returns in full. i can't work and need a sick cert. so i cruise down the local medical centre and the doctor there says he wants me to take some other pills and writes me two scripts. 
just to be sure he wants a blood test. 
i don't bother filling the scripts as i'm over the drugs, i'm over the medical model, these cats don't know what they are doing. they are all just pushers for the pill companies and we are the dumb cash cow that pays up all the time in our ignorance. 
the weekend is spent with me coughing and sweating and generally feeling like my time is up. i casually mention to someone if i do die it would be weeks maybe months before someone found my body.
monday morning i go in for my results. the doc says they are not in yet. tuesdays morning i return, only the receptionist tells me i need to see the doctor urgently and i have priority so don't have to wait.
it turns out i have whooping cough. something that plagued me as a child has returned. i get some new drugs, i have two weeks off work. gonna rest, bake some cookies, maybe write some tunes.
i'm exhausted, i need a break.

things go from bad to worse depending on the observer, of how you choose to experience it, she said as a matter of fact. i was impressed by her confidence and the non negotiable power in her idea. besides i know that it's perception and processing. she was right but in a sexy way which makes her more interesting and thus more attractive.
i wished my brain would switch off and stop, just for a moment so i could say something back but it was a turbulence of information in avalanche. 
let's get a drink mission, i like rum.
i was following, still unable to say any words. speech just wasn't happening for me right now.
she pulled me across the road, four lanes of traffic, cars honking and windows rolled down exposing angry drivers yelling angry words w but all i could do was take it all in like a amazingly detailed photograph that i could loose myself in. but this was real, reality, i was hyper alert to it, but limited in responding in language. it was like the language centre of my head had been changed. the information in the words were heard, they went through a processing of my internal knowledge of quantum, my experiential understanding, my education, beliefs, passions, poetry, various mental filters and then i find myself in complete agreement with the fundamental truth of the statement, but that information then changed into me observing reality but outside it. in a different reality. process process, mission process... and i couldn't communicate into it in language, but i could navigate through it.
the shock of such a thing is breathed out through my disciplines, all the while negotiating a busy street full of night life, bright lights and open storefronts luring people in to neon basements and doorways. people were dressed in bright elaborate costumes, circus performers, it was a carnival of a street scene. it wouldn't be so far removed from my own reality, a slight exaggeration of it perhaps.
her hand around my wrist felt real enough, she pulled me gently through a horde of people and into a bright white neon doorways and up a flight of stairs. 
this is my favourite bar, it's a nice, you'll like it she smiled back at me while moving forwards, and they make the best mojitos.
suddenly we were standing in a very elegant and dimly lit area. it resembled no bar i had been to before, more like a tea house with good lighting. we took a seat in the corner and she waved a hand up, at which a waiter appeared and took our orders.
no listen, i know your freaked by everything, i know you wondering why you can't communicate but its okay, its not permanent. and mission, you are right. this is a different reality from the one you inhabit, it's almost the same but it's slightly different. okay? are you okay with that?
i nodded, yeah i thought, yeah i am okay. i was okay.
she said she wanted to wait until we had our drinks and then she would explain why she had brought me here. i smiled and nodded, i had nothing but time. 
the drinks came in tall thin glasses, a fresh mint sprig freshly decorated the rim and a perfect circle of lime floated upon the top and i could see vibrant brown crystals of sugar dancing in the drink. i downed mine in a couple of sips and ordered another two for our table. 
i read your stuff, the stuff you write. i like it. i want you to keep writing so i can read it. her eyes sparkled, that's all. and i wanted to have a drink with you to. it's sad that you can't talk back but it's okay we can have a drink together. her eyes lit up and she smiled. it was an extraordinary smile something it would take an alternative reality to create and those eyes where vast, like there was a whole other universe inside. i could see it, vast and filled with lifetimes of wonder. she was still smiling and we sipped our drinks together while she just smiled. and it made me smile to, so we sat there drinking our drinks and smiling at one another. 
  

somewhere in the far east, i am covered in sweat and guts raw from dry retching. there's mandi nearby wiping my face with a wet rag, she whispers something in tibetan, soft words from soft lips. how is it possible to be so soft in such a harsh environment i wonder.
my skin feels hot and cold, it's impossible to tell. i can't be certain if i won't die, i always wanted to have an unusual life, i guess that includes an unusual death. 
for a moment i see mandi's face leering down at me, her elegant features and care, she cares i think before my eyes close. that's gotta count for something in this crazy world.
mandi has given me some opium, it eases the pain and helps me sleep but my dreams are vivid and i get confused. my son appears, 'don't die dad,' he says. 
i'm nailed to a cross, the surf is at my feet. the tide rises. i'm tied to a post, the flames lap below me. i'm floating in space, running out of oxygen, i'm nothing in a vast something i cannot perceive. beyond scale, beyond imagination, beyond science, defined in pure mathematical terms. some equations flash by, suddenly the light surrounds me, a white light blinding white. have i lost my vision, i can't see anything.
mandi vanished, everything white. i stare into the brightness, it's everywhere, goes onwards spilling into my future. 
i'm engulfed within whiteness in all dimensions my minds thoughts spilling away as whiteness leaks in, go to the white light, that's what they say, i swim deeper into it , it swims into me until i fall into deep sleep again, the dream fades away. 
i wake gasping for air, my lungs sucking down oxygen in deep breaths, my skin sticky and hot. i'm burning up, burning, but it's so very cold. 
mandi whispers, 'it's okay, it's okay, just keep still, lay still.'
i wonder how many days have passed us, it's impossible to say, all time itself has become immaterial to me as i pass from state to state, moments of vivid dreamlike reality to fractions of painful suffering. 
some water passes my lips, a hand wipes sweat from my forehead. mandi chants some incantation and i drift away the white brightness replaced by nothing at all.
much time has passed, i'm sitting down but my legs to weak to stand without support. i'm eating small pieces of something, crunchy, chewy unrecognisable. insects i think. mandi encourages me to chew. her concern touches me. 
when i try to speak it's just a moan, i can't say the words just a strange guttural noise. my throat actually feels sore and awfully dry. later i drink something that tastes like warm bitter thick milk. 
mandi gathers some wood and puts a large log upon the fire, it crackles and pops in an explosion of noise like a firework display. small sparks fly around and rise upwards into the darkness, while momentarily showing me the interior of a cave.
i ask mandi if she has my pack, she says nothing was found near me, just the clothing i had. she brings me my jacket and i search through the pockets. in a matter of moments i have a small pile of items. a passport, a wallet with three currencies, a drivers licence and a photograph of jake. there's a flashlight, swiss army knife and a map of the himalayan mountains and a detailed ordinance survey map of annapurna 3 which mandi points to excitedly and in broken english says, 'here, we here.'
later i manage to stay upright with mandi's assistance, i put my arm around her and she supports me as we walk along the cave corridor out towards the entrance, taking two sharp right turns. a small tunnel of light around the corner leads to a magnificent opening, a hole about 2 meters exposes us to a breathtaking view. 
snow capped mountain tops as far as we can see disappear over the horizon to the left of us but a massive wall of rock blocks the right as a mountain face looms upwards as far as we can see.
the sunlight offers a glimpse of detail at the rock face, it's a structure of chaos i think. the wind makes it difficult to stand on the ledge but we look at the view from the protection of the walls and i wonder how i would have ended up here.
mandi points to the mountain opposite and i follow her finger to the ropes, and there in the rock are the remnants of an expedition. 
i scan the area cursing i have no binoculars but in the jagged rock opposite i see some spikes and ropes. i ask mandi to take me further out to the ledge. 
we are exposed here, freezing wind howls around us but i can see the ledges below clearly, no sign of life.
back inside the cave i try to remember whom i was with and what we were doing. nothing comes, just a blank area. 
i've given up asking mandi she has no answers other than she found me and saved me.
i make a small shrine from the few items i have salvaged from my pockets and watch as the flames dance upon the wall.     

i've taken three days off, my illness has forced me to rest up so i went to the beach and walked along the sand bare feet, the surf flat and gentle sun warmed my skin. i felt good out there, clearing my head from all the silly nonsense stuffed inside. i stopped for lunch and enjoyed my food chewing down slowly savouring the taste like some mindfulness exercise. the light is kind, soft light filtered and gentle, ah i do love my terrible beach. 
later some terrible pains in my chest seized me, i don't know what caused them, coughing fits maybe. i couldn't tell if it was a heart attack or what, how do you know? anyways i breathed it out and somehow managed to manage the pain, although it left me quite disturbed. i don't get ill often, but i am psychically responding so my issues at work, stress manifestation. days off and away are what i need, perspective. i'm going to start writing about my work soon, just kinda a few short chronological tales, charting my history as a social worker type. it would be compelled into a single volume, a thirty year history of what i have experienced. think i would call it 'the truth is stranger than fiction.'  

signal to noise, white light white heat, random filters on sun, flat ocean mirrors the skies, but these skies have eyes and so do i. 
seeing all and everything, the trees glimmer away. knowing more and knowing less the trees have something to say. listen.
we came in slow time, seeking out light for energy, we have deep roots and architecture like electricity, and we keep on a wavelength you can't perceive. water and light, photosynthesis in atomic structures of the leaf, it's all free energy.
water and light. home for life, saviour of the wild and shelter from the storm. when the sun gets to much stand under the branch and cool down man. relax a while and close your eyes, have a dream with me, seek sanctuary. my branches spread like the synapse in your head, seek enlightenment. find some peace.