long days, hot nights, i can't sleep it's stinking hot in old mission control and there's a layer of strange slime all over my old skin suit, i have about four showers and sit under the fan listening to the cure smoking johnny hash and letting my mind do it's thing.

i'm curious about my chaos sphere, it's eight stars are all quite reasonably happy and equal but the old purple one is pointing in a new direction, and that green one just lights up. what the fuck.

anyways, i think about this and that  a million thoughts traverse through the opera of my imagination, mostly singing animals, secret landscapes and waves i have yet to surf. 

then i start thinking about helen of troy, and then i start thinking about girls and women and one pops in my head and i wonder what's the point of sailing if not for a woman. it seems absurd to me. 

what the fuck, again, these thoughts must be free to pop but they are not actually popping, they float around in their helium filled happiness. what the fuck! 

i suddenly realise i need to use the air con, it's not something i do often but tonight is an extraneous circumstance. yes it is, i'm hot and bothered and feeling strangely fuzzy. i should drink beer, after all it's a medicinal solution. fortunately i have some i saved for jake. they lay around for weeks and because i have a fridge full of tahitian limes, i'm thinking perfecto. i knock back two, before my brain starts complying and winding down. i must admit i quite like beer from el salvador, come to think off it i am quite south american in my tastes when it comes to exotic drinks, beers, tequilas and vines. 

the heat becomes manageable once the air con kicks in, i remember its australia day, although it's also invasion day for some, i dunno, what to feel. i mean it could have been the spanish arriving, that would not of had a good ending, it could have been the french, jesus, we may have better culture and art but in the end it was the english. a bunch of idiots who thought they would bring their working class (i'm one) out to van diemen's land. oh never mind the natives they said, we are the english. 

they did that a lot in those old days when there was an empire. the british empire was not bad, it wasn't good either. it was history. no point crying over spilt milk, just have to somehow move forwards, so i don't celebrate oz day any more than i celebrate the queens birthday. i don't celebrate anything really except the fact i inhabit a beautiful planet with amazing things, birds, animals, trees, weird flowers, food and drink, waves, books and girls and fucking incredible music like the church and the cure and david bowie and kate bush and it's all so fucking amazing it blows my mind every second of every day.

anyway back to sailing, yeah even those crazy captains janszoon, cook, and philips only sailed to australia  because their queen had told them to. i can't fathom why a man would sail for any other reason. those trojans knew the score.