the sea gives but sometimes takes, it can curl itself around a passerby, an innocent fisherman on the rocks, a woman, a man a child. it can come from nowhere, rise like a mighty hand and swipe you from existence. to read the sea you must know it, have it within your soul, for the sea can be a mysterious environment to decipher, many layers in contradiction. 
the sea commands respect, and respect is attention  ones senses must be in tune with the moon, and the ocean will know, it has unfathomable wisdom.

everything's fucked, will be the title of a novel i have yet to write. although i am in good spirits after val and olga hash cookie and me went out for an indian. i saw my friend iggy in the city, we wander around drinking coffee and talking about politics, global conflicts, control methods and girls. i have good friends, few but all exceptional. 

can't put a square peg in a round hole. you can push it, shove it, force it, ask nice, but it's not going to fit. that's an analogy for what i want to do. not fit, i'm the contrarian, never followed the herd, never will.
anyway suddenly i am popular amongst the girls, i don't wanna be, i hate that fuax attention, people wanna wine and dine me, people wanna call me up, wanna know what i think about this or that, wanna know what i eat for breakfast and all that jazz. not sure why people find me interesting, i'm just not them i guess. 
anyways, what do i think? you can read it here like everyone else.
gay marriage? what the fuck has it got to do with me. a girl wants to marry their girlfriend, hey i'm happy for you. not my business.
bill shorten? an absolute opportunist, a disgraceful leader with no integrity whatsoever.
malcolm turnbill? same as above only worse.
the greens? dumb people with no fucking idea. worse than the above.
books? publishing is gone the way of music, over populated with crap, politically correct nonsense, the great writers would never get published today. only women who write about their year of living as an ethic minority will get a book deal, only people who work at the abc get to write a book and have it promoted, it's a racket. only people with an immigration story, only manufactured social engineering projects get a book deal.
music? bowie, lou reed, are dead. there are a few good bands still around but they are a minority, the industry pumps out mediocracy and people love what they are conditioned to love. 
relationships? i don't really know what to say about these things, i don't connect with anyone anymore. sure i have sex and enjoy a healthy sexual life but when i say relationships i think i mean something intimate and i really think that means opening up and revealing yourself, and when that happens people don't like what they see. i mean i'm a heavy soul and byron bay, hippy shit won't work on me, feel good hash tags, causes and movements are just random white noise to me. so there's no fluffy bits hanging around my identity, nothing really superficial to enjoy. so i guess it takes a special kind of person to relate to me.
family? i miss them but the whole concept is alien. sightly disappointing i guess, i mean that inclusively. i disappoint them as much as they me. so that's that.
life? it's brilliant when i am in nature and surfing, appreciating stars etc but the moment i have to deal with the illusions i get depressed. banks, tax, politics  religions are all depressingly present and pointless to the value of our lives. 
writing? is like eating. i have to do it else there is no meaning to anything.
heroes? i loved bowie for the same reason i love all my heroes and heroines. because they do not follow the herd, they always challenge and defy expectation and they teach me something.
spirituality? it's a supermarket out there, find your method towards  connection with the universe and stick with it. the process is the finding. once you find it, let it go, connect in occasionally and keep it healthy.
ex wife? i found myself telling someone the story this morning, it's sad and should be a film. no one would believe the events that led to my divorce. none of my family even know what happened, they all think i had an affair. the truth is much stranger.
the future? it's going to be like the past. light and dark yet necessary. 
isreal? the most intelligent country i have lived in. you have no fucking idea unless you have been there. 
australia? the dumbest country i know. a nation of lambs being led to the abattoir by people they love and celebrate.
the UN? i hate and loathe them.
islam? i'm no friend of it.
chirst? i dig his groove, a master kabbalist.
buddha?  same as christ but much smarter.
the uk? paying the price as the empire comes returns to colonise it. 
best book i ever read? 1984 baby but it's nothing without animal farm, they are connected by the invisible thread.
the future? it's exactly as lenord cohen wrote, bloody.
tv? i like the walking dead best. 

swanning around in my sarong, getting domestics done, yeah i have housework to do, laundry, washing, cleaning, scrubbing, vacuuming, paying bills, phone calls, on my one single day off this week, it's almost unbearably hot, almost. there's a constant buzzing of cicadas, no wind, just that stillness you get in intense bush fire weather. soon i will leave for the beach, late afternoon when the sun is not so dangerous, at the moment everything can get burnt to a crisp. fortunately i watered the plants a few days ago, i also did some bush fire preparation and cleared out the dry leaves, made a perimeter around mission control and cleared away all the dead foliage  these are the practical necessities of suburban life in australia. gotta look after the land for the land to look after you.

we must progress forwards into time, moment by moment. each step transports me someplace new, i was there and now i am here. 
old captain mission was cool, new captain mission is hot, he has longer hair, less teeth, he has adjustable perspectives, flexibility of dream yoga. he's a mass of anomalies, a stranger loop. no one sticks to him, they try, but they fall behind. no one really likes him because he's unlike them, not a follower or leader not a sheep not a wolf but a deep oceanic mystery. 
i have a girlfriend whom texts and calls me non stop, it's gotten banal, she just informs me of stupid vapid things, 'i had a cup of tea, i saw a dog, i am having cake, serial killer lore, hollywood gossip, i know a famous person,' it's driving me nuts to the point where i just reply in stupid pointless messages, 'one of my legs is shorter than the other, my head is stuck in railings,' it's drivel but it's consuming my time, in the end we will fall out and she will hate me to. 
time is shorter than it was before, it's somewhat more of a asset than money. time or cash? so every time my phone rings i feel precious minites slipping away.

grinderman

my pond man arrived with some special imported koi food for my fish, it's high grade stuff from japan, i have five big fish, they have expensive tastes. 
we clean out the pond water and debris from the trees, the mud at the bottom of the pool has blocked up the pump so we give that a big clean. the fish are happy, they swim around like atoms. they have no knowledge of outside the pond, no understanding of the vast eco system they inhabit, the palms are a mystery to them, the fronds, maidenhair ferns, finger ferns and strange australian flowers that have bloomed in the last few weeks. the birds that come sit near the pond overhead, the frangipani, the stream that carries water into the pond via waterfall. all these things do not figure in the mind of my fish as they swim around, or wait under the bridge in the shade. all they think about is feeding and dreaming. they play a part in something beyond them, and they have no idea what it could be, i wonder what they dream.

when your number is up, it's up. such is my nonchalant attitude to it all, the bad news is in, all hope is lost, and yet...
the great adventure begins, the transition into a new dimension awaits, the unknown is my friend as we have known one another a long time now so there is not much to fear, it's just letting go, there's nothing else to say. words fall into black holes, lines bend along with light, curved space turns me on, the void baby, it's such a beautiful peace. all things die, all things are born again. 

may the force be with you. 

maybe they can save me, maybe i can save myself. maybe baby. but what's to save, a bag of bones, a data bank of memories that are spilling over, warm blood and cold breath, so many low points but the highlights were amazing. 
the church, bowie, seeing the world before it became the globe, making music, writing, the surf, the stars, the vine. the force was with me. always.

being something of a reclusive anti social creature these days i had been jonesing for a church fix for the last few months, i know they were in the usa and eventually would have to return to sydney for a show and but the days just dragged and my need was growing, maybe going to manifest in some awful self destructive implosion  from a sun to a dark star. i stopped smoking weed for so long it felt weird, my health deteriorated, my mojo bled out from my hole riddled aura. 
i had been working long hours and time was distorting around me, one moment i was a baby crying out for a nipple, the next i was a dirty old man crying out for a nipple, what is with this sudden breast fixation i wondered. i'll leave that to the sexy freudian psychotherapists. anyway i was just saying to a friend the other day, i feel like i'm ready to cash in my cards, after all i seen it all, not much in the world inspires me anymore, my best friend dead, bowie gone, my current friend is in hospital, joy is on the decline, nothing interests me, maybe i am just depressed? whatever the malaise, i knew i needed to see the church, only they can fix me.
so when it came for the show i had to race back to the coast after work, shower change, catch train to city, see the band then return to the coast and wake up three hours later for another long day at work where i found myself having to return to the street the venue was on as i dropped a client off at her sisters in marickville, just around the corner from the factory. so it was a congested weekend.
anyways, i was very grateful that sharon and nina had saved me a barrel on which to lean, and nina blessed me with some golden aura which offerred some respite from the awful pain in my leg and the pins and needles shooting through my left hand. 
anyway's the band came on with jeffery caine who proceeded to add a layer of tone that just shifted gears in a very cool new direction, i gotta say he was excellent. 
as far as church gigs go, it was up there, the sound at the factory is never consistent and there's awful moments where it goes all out of phase but this never depletes from the performance. during those bits i watch and then when the sound comes back i listen. 
so coming onstage and playing aura is always an impressive beginning, and the songs have new textures and parts, new arrangements, that make them sound new and dynamic again. i loved the show but i have to say i wish they would just drop milky way and metropolis, the two crowd pleasers. maybe i'm just being selfish but i think it's time to put those songs to rest from live sets. 
as far as set lists go, it was an almost perfect inclusion of songs that all seemed to fit together, day 5 was transformed and transcended  possibly an all time church highlight for me, but block, constant in opel, tantalised all incredibly reworked to give them a vitality that saturated everyone present. brilliant. however, it was the new songs which impressed me more, the handful they played were executed with such immense power and conviction by steve at the front and this incredible band i was filled up with whatever missing ingredient i needed, my fix was in, it was mainlined into my blood and hit my brain at the speed of life. steves hit a new level in his presence as a stage man, he's up there with the greats, embodying the songs with conviction, love and respect, his base playing and vocals are masterful and the many tangents the band jams along make the whole evening worthwhile. 
so thank you. happy xmas to the church. 

instructions to agents

travel light

pack a book, camera and bikini

buy ticket to large island in southern hemisphere

never look back.

instructions for agents

sleep is where we meet,

exchange information

dream stuff is never snorted but inhaled

instructions for agents

look at the stars often

orgasm with them in mind 

it's all just an experience

until it isn't.

the last few months, since my return from the uk i decided to detox from weed, a big mistake. 
my body started to deteriorate, pains in my knees, my leg unable to support me, throbbing pain in the calf which i have borne in my usual stoic way. working hours pushing me over the brink, physical health, mental heath and spiritual health all falling rapidly, until i smoked a spliff and within seconds healed. i must keep smoking, keep on smoking smoke the sky away.

i have not written for weeks, maybe months, nothing. my story lays unfinished untold, and it must be borne. i'm thinking of doing something very strange with it, but it may fail. whatever, it's going to take time.