down before dawn, catch magnificent waves, they crash and explode like the birth of some universal event. for some reason (cold current) the water is considerably colder today, but it's invigorating and i'm enjoying riding some mighty powerful waveforms as my void claims me. 

you can't explain this stuff, it's beyond zen, it's some sort of hyper gate, transcendental.

later i have a coffee and get stuck into my osho book, i like the way the man talks, he makes some great observations about religions. i like mischievous. 

he talks about how happiness is something which is found from something or some one else, it's source is outside the self. he says only when you are creating something can you find bliss, which comes from within, it is not dependant on something external. i know all this but it's a pleasing confirmation especially as i have been so unhappy for a while, yet my moments of bliss are frequent.

the sun seems to burn through the clouds, and now as i drive home the sun is blazing the day away, intense and penetrating, it begins to get very hot and i turn on my over head fans and smoke a left over spliff, i think about sonchia, my mentor in jail, ponder over the conclusion to 'asset.'

it certainly was an unexpected ending, yet it was the only possible conclusion, i mean it's exactly what i would do, oh maybe i'd chose the enhancements but i am not a buddhist.  my mind wanders to ideas and ways of living that are hundreds of years old, the human brain was different back then, things were nowhere near as complex. buddha left instructions on how to follow him but our brains are very different now than back when he was daydreaming under trees, we can't possibly apply his techniques to our brains and expect the same result. we need enhancements. yes, i conclude, i would not have locked myself up, but i would have smoked that last thai stick and taken the upgrades. there is no going backwards sonchia my friend. 

a quick surf as the town is packed and i'm parked illegally, but the waves are tremendous, i catch a super powered one that blows all my illusions into the vastness of nothing. it's that one single one, the obliteration every soul searches for, outside the time space dimensions, i ride it to the core of my own void. it's beautiful and terrifying, it's sublimation. 

outside i deal with the horde, all plugged into the town for a long weekend, shops spilling over and walkways packed as i shuffle through. i wanted to go to the bank but it's to tricky and inefficient. i count my blessings and slip away back to mission control.

i check my mail, a card from an old friend, a friend of my ex wife really. i don't know what to do, it says she wants me to call her but i'm sort of unconnected to that past and don't see a point in reconnecting, i'm sitting on this one.

a card from my union thanking me for working on xmas day. i didn't suckers, i had the day off. i hate that union, total bunch of dumb zombies who have never helped me deal with any of the masses of abuse i encountered at work yet somehow manage to deduct $30 a week and send me an xmas card for my troubles.

i get a card from kate, bless you kate. it was so lovely for you to think of me. i get some messages from people via text, all wanting me to get in touch. i ignore them, just not in the mood right now. 

the light fractures as late afternoon sinking sun streams across the horizon through the big tropics and into mission control where i sit pondering my own disillusion into the void. 

wake up, weather changeable and my time seems to slow down as the morning catches up. i grab a coffee, walk around looking at colourful birds, my dog missing in action i wonder if he has found a better home to hang for the day. leftovers and exhausted children would be infinitely more attractive than an exhausted and left over man.
i read for a while,  stop and think about my own compass, is it fear, indifference or lust, it's really all over the pace this morning. 
fear. i have jehovah's witnesses coming, friends that found jesus. although i love them i hate their company, it's a dead end because there is no way i would become a witness. it's the ultimate detachment  and yet it's just another attachment to something quite ridiculous. however i respect their enthusiasm. i have to hide all my weed.
i smoke a little spliff before they arrive and my compass heads to lust. how do i know this? i go out to jb hi fi and buy a new tv. it's a big sexy one. a dumb impulsion gets the better of me but at least no one is pregnant right?
i sit down at mission control and look at my life 2016, strange year, a sad one in some ways, lots of shifting, loss, conflicts and weirdness but that's my life. i've grown somewhat indifferent to it all.
see i am all over the place. 
i burn some incense new stuff called 'black magick' very hard to get. do you know you cannot import this stuff into australia. lucky i have a chinese connection. 
i meditate upon the compass and attempt to dissolve it but i get an erection as thoughts flood my mind about a sexual encounter i had yesterday. back to lust. 
i need a surf.

always smiling, positive guy, everyone liked you including helen the head girl whom i secretly desired. helen was so happy when you started dating her, and who am i to stand in her path to happiness. just kids, head filled with dreams and outrageous ambitions. you were smart and immaculate, while i was a punk, more drawn to bowie and the clash while you dug those soul legends and ska. 
you and her were a good team but i knew even then something was amiss, it was written on her face shortly after. i saw it, but it was difficult to read and i was still young.
i came took some photo's of you and your ska band before you went of to new york. i had know idea you were being shaped by some mogul, i was in the 'screaming blue meanies' belting out bowie covers and playing velvet underground songs while you cut wham rap and got banned. that was cool man, i respected that. 
next thing i know you and andrew are some huge pop stars and your paying wembley stadium. i hated those songs man, but you seemed the same, that flamboyant vanity, that tom cruise grin, the unshaven stubble, stupid outfits and loads of dancing girls looking like they had scoffed down far to many anti depressants. 
not content from taking helen, you and andrew then took the perfectly sexy shirley and turned her into some sort of disco bunny. i loved her for the pink hair and safety pins not the fucking fluffy jumpers and white ankle socks. last xmas indeed.
well yog, i have to admit you came out in style, busted in a toilet, front page news, man that video clip was the first adult song you made that i thought was great. outside. yeah you made some funky tunes smoked a lot of weed, had a few supermodels on speed dial. that's all we wanted from life i guess. 40 years later your heart explodes while mine beats on, i don't know how many more beats it has left but it makes me wonder about the numbers, it's a numbers game they say and i was always bad at math.

it's stinking hot, covered in sweat like slime second skin that burns up the atmosphere. it's underwater over land, the day hazes away, and clouds hang like dali clocks in the molten skies.
i'm pedal to the metal down the freeway, turn off down some side road and sleepy suburb. the dawns delayed but when it arrived it had vengeance in it's heart. 
i weave down before the traffic catches up, head into galston gorge, that sunken bushland that takes me straight to prehistory. man there's no sign of civilization here except for the road and my old truck. no radio signal can reach me, just some looming interference. the air con makes a rattle and hum coughing along, barely able to pump out anything but short spurts of hot air and an irritating buzzing. 
i'm descending into the valley, down we go spiraling narrow road, rickety old bridge a hairpin turn or two, this is remote but it's in the middle of a city. sydney has pockets like this, it's a wild place despite what you see on the tv screens, it's land will kill you, they don't call it untamed wilderness for nothing. there's something else here to, some magick. an ancient one, one you don't wanna fuck with unless you know what your doing. 
the mechanics in my truck are clunky, each gear change sounds abrasive and when the windscreen falls out i know i'm pushing my luck. i hear the tyres crunching over glass and in my single side mirror see the sparkle of fragments catch the light like exploding stars.
the truck begins to slow down, i rev the engine thinking speed may help but the movement is sluggish and snails pace and the more i rev the more a thick black smog engulfs the old jalopy. my chest begins to burn as sunlight streams through. i've already stripped down to my shorts and my skins starting to fry.
suddenly the radiator goes, a hot gush of steam shoots upwards in front of my horrified face. the air con packs up and the truck splutters to a standstill. i am fucked and i'm fried unless i can get out of the sun. 
around me flames start to appear, spontaneous combustion. fire come to life. already several small pockets surround me as i wander away from the truck watching in disbelief. 
they say never leave your vehicle but mine is melting, i watch the tyres smolder, the ugly stink of rubber and toxic black smoke. 
i attempt to run along the road but my shoes are sticking to the tar. 
seems like i'm in an australian version of hell, flames begin to grow towering up and leaping from branch to branch, smoldering embers float across my line of sight like tiny lethal fireflies and then as i rush into the bushland the very flames of hell are quite literally licking at my heels. 
momentarily the smoke seems to disperse and i run to a standstill. i am surrounded by fire, a circle blazing away but frozen, a fire wall, a firewall.
a tiny ember floats by my shoulder traveling on an easy wave trajectory with no angles. i watch it as it catches my eye in some fixation. it moves faster and at and suddenly stops, hovering just at my face.
all moments froze, my mind still operating in fear at the speed of life, thoughts just like flames sparking into ignition from nowhere and burning up into nothing, my synapses exploding, all things frozen except my mind as it burns inferno like exploding thoughts, memory and ideas. i can't move anywhere but the safety of my circle. the fire itself is ceased mid-burn, each flame on ice as if time has stopped. i am in a photograph captured at 1000th of a second. physics itself burns.
through the frozen landscape something moves, a shadow being glides through each flame, weaving past burnt tree trunks, feet make a crunching sound crisp and clean upon the ashes of the bushland. it snaps the columns of flame that stand in its way, it breaks into the circle from outside and stands before me, it's ancient face from a time and place beyond all human history it's wings are black and scarlet, like burning blood. it's terrible gums and teeth like a hound. it walks around me like a shark would swim around prey, eyeing me up.
'let's make a deal mission?'
a finger is snapped and i can speak and move freely but the area is still suspended in time. 
'who are you?'
a powerful voice riding the wind screams like a chorus of angry vultures from the depths of a black charcoal soul. it not only cuts through every atom that vibrates within my flesh it sears itself into my soul rendering it outside of natural law.
'i am the adversary, lord of fire.'
and then a whisper, 'i came to claim your return but i am willing to come to an agreement.'
the nature of fire is it is immensely unpredictable and destructive but it comes from the same place. a place i am familiar with the secret destination of all alchemical transmutation, the sun.  
my negotiation is simple. emissary of the sun on earth.
the lord of fire disintegrates before me, taking all flame and fire and leaving me alone in the scorched earth with a quick look of acknowledgment, for we are brothers. and we both believe we serve the same light.  

the flaming lips -the terror

the blade meditation has cut away everything, it's sometimes quite beautiful and utterly terrifying. sometimes the meditation just kicks in on it's own, it must be finely attuned to my mind, maybe it is part of it i can no longer tell. it comes in so many forms, a hurtling hurricane of blades with no real form. a nano machine, millions of micro blades razor sharp splitting through time and memory, attachment and desire, an autonomous steam roller squashing and tearing apart photons, a robotic thing constructed of fractals, alien undetermined shaped, a silver octopus with razor blade tentacles, it's squeezes along neural pathways compressed and expanded, it devours like ammit but more like the hand of kali.
moments of ego slip out and float away, aspects of self shatter, elements of i are imploded while light liberated. it's unbearably painful to let so much go, all suffering and happiness, it all brings more of the same desires. i am almost free from it. 
sometimes i just find myself in a situation where i just invoke my blades and they come from the depths, from the mists, from the dark fathoms of the mental universe, they appear and churn, destroying it all, any sense of myself is passing into another fiction, nothing is true, everything permitted. 

an old friend from tokyo city iggy comes to visit these shores, we catch up on three consecutive sundays, it was good to see him readers, really good. iggy and i go back and as a younger man i got to see how unique a thinker he was, how individual and different. in a society of clones zombies and depressingly empty souls i found him a beacon of hope. i listened to him as we swapped stories of travels and ideas. his passion for mountains, persia, the forgotten parts of maps, the places where no one ever goes. 
me i had taken a strange path but it was accessible for anyone to follow should they choose. iggy, he went along a pathway that no one could follow. 
so it is good to see his return. it's been about 10 years, and now he is a cool father and a husband, blazing his own trail. 
we talk and it's just like old times only i'm older. my vitality is in decline, i'm sluggish and my bones are weary. iggy moves like a frictionless android from the future come to save or destroy us. 
hive city where we have laksa for breakfast, the women are all beautiful here. we always dug that asian vibe. 
for some reason i have a leaking eye, i buy a black eye patch which helps and take a photo of us both outside the hive, we look like we are mercenaries on shore leave but for some reason the photo is lost, i search for it but it's MIA.
those sundays flew by fast old friend. i miss you. and dear reader here's an example why.
i smile as we part company and i stupidly say (on auto pilot)'take care.'
and with that smile, the one that knows it's got something to say, iggy says, 'no! take risks.'
it makes me laugh but i guess you had to be there. 

after heat came the rain, i returned back to mission control loaded down and weary. i started reading and writing, casting out my circumstance and the serbian woman at the other end picked up the current. 
i thought the transmission would be georgian as i had recently seen some georgian script and it reminded me of an ancient language i knew. the strange motifs sent my mind asunder, the girl that drew them even further. i was casting and you turned up. 
i read four novels in the time i had, one straight after the other, part of a series, i had read five of them before so the theme was familiar and i knew the essential plot but the details were important so i just read between my long working hours and made considerable headway. 
i travelled from georgia, thailand, cambodia and nepal. hong kong would be next but i was fractured, splinters of me had taken seperate roads, one on their way to india as i speak. the splinter in nepal was being tutored by the nameless monk. he touched my forehead and transmitted to me the most powerful meditation that must be left unwritten and unmentioned. 
another splinter seems to have found its way to florida where it indulges in many hedonistic activities, sex and drugs surround me like a steam  bath of sin. i enjoy it all, for i am here to experience.
another splinter travels with my son, i sit next to him in an aircraft, we look out at cloud city landscape below. i am there in astral form only, just for protection. he knows he can call upon me at anytime and i think for the moment he's just feeling anxious and needed some reassurance. i write something down in his book:

if you fear loneliness do not travel.

travel is transformation.

a splinter of captain mission is of course smoking opium in thailand. the red sinking sun pours light across the skies painting it with a violent brushstroke of vitality. my eyelids are heavy and above me on the balcony a beautiful fan revolves with a clunky whirring noise i adapt to. strangely as i surrender to my state a rouge splinter is having slow languid sex with a girl whom has a serpent tattoo that winds around her lithe brown flesh, tail at her left foot as it wraps around her stomach exposing her belly button and makes its way between her breasts and finishes just as her neck begins. i kiss her serpentine symbol and a little hiss escapes her lips.

in hong kong i am eating some noodles, assaulted by sound, the horde moves past me, traffic crawls while scooters and bikes weave in and out of cars. the air is half filled with the stink of spices and fresh cooked foods and the rank of car exhausts.

another distantly attached splinter is in a colder part of serbia. i ask the glamorous girl in her leather boots how people stay warm in such a climate. she looks at me and says in a hard edged broken english voice, 'der ink much vodka, fuck like bear.'     

one thing i never understand is why australia (my adopted home) hates intelligent people so much. i was very popular when i kept quiet and just played sports but now i speak up and have ideas i'm sort of shunned, nothing worse than a smart person in australia. oh, well there is one thing worse, one with dark skin i guess. that's me.
now i hear they want to build a sporty stadium out west, why not a fucking library? 
the answer is australians are kept dumb and led by politicians they deserve, may as well build a colosseum. let russell crowe and mel gibson thrash it out while we all watch and cheer filled with cold beer and high on stupidity. 

an old technique, rise with the sun, watch it over the water as the first waves hit the retina. synchronise spectrums, extend the auric field in meditative expanse and discipline. walk down to the waterline, get toes and feet wet, see the pathway out from feet to horizon and give praise. 

already very warm, perfect curls upon perfect waves, they come in sets of three, large ones and i always get the last one, with my trusty fin. we ride and i am propelled through zen like states, my charkra system is vital, i have no distinction, the very blood that races around my body is as the pulse of the ocean, atomic dissolution  only the mind is left, neither here nor there, so where but everywhere.

it cannot last, like all things, orgasms, enlightenment and love, even a good meal, it lasts for as long as it lasts and the method is to understand clinging to it only brings tension, let it go, let it come, let it go, mantra of the noble path. 

i surf the morning to stillness, in golden light white divinity, profoundly sexy and alive, not even the oppressive heat matters, the day is born in splendour. the sun will rise and set, and everything is as it needs to be in the moment. 

every buddhist even in suffering is the potential to be free.