snappy newt ears, she said.
i must have misheard her.

'did you say snappy newt ears,' i asked.

'yeah, what you got planned?'

'oh a quiet one, actually jake and myself will just have a drink together and go to bed, wake up and have a surf.'

'no fireworks or parties.'

'nope, not my thing. i like getting up early with a clear head and having a ocean swim. what do you have planned?'

'i'm going to meditate.'

'well have a nice trip and send me a postcard.'

we smile.

'hi, arrived in meditate, having a lovely time looking at the galleries and buildings, it's all very peaceful and calm. wish you were here.'

i nod my head still smiling, 'that sounds like a postcard i'd like to get, especially the wish you were here part.'

reflecting upon the year that was, highlights, basically the church gig, seeing steve at the shark fish tank party type thing, starting my boxing regime and seeing jake for 15 mins on xmas day, hanging out with him at the big beach house and seeing what a great guy he is. 

he gifted me the most amazing xmas present ever. very cool.

projecting to the year ahead, i have a lot to do. 

probably the most harrowing book i have read in a long time, can't even say i liked it as it was just to dark for me. like brutal. yet it was well written and poetic in parts. i guess that is what made it interesting. here's the strange part. it's based upon a real experience the author had.

now i had a run in with a californian desert cult when i was grey-hounding it from california to new jersey. so  i know they exist and have met a renegade who had escaped, he was a strange nervous guy who just ambled up to the back of the bus where i sat and crashed out. later when he awoke he explained to me he had just escaped from a cult out in the desert and was petrified they would come after him. 

i didn't ask to many questions but he got of the bus at philadelphia after a few days travel. including him there was another travelling companion whom was also some sort of desperado and between us we had about $20 to tithe us over. it was a long three days but imprinted in my memory as three days i will never forget. more of that another time. 

back to the book, it's darker than any version of hell and sickening to know this happened. it's not a pleasant read at all and there's very little redemption for the reader. 

fuck!

well rested after my burst of industry, i have spent the last week organising other peoples xmas and finally get a day off to rest and recuperate. i'm up early for a surf, the waves are choppy but the water warm. it feels good and my energy centers sort themselves out into some sort of realignment. 

my plants seem to enjoy a little extra attention as i water them and play them some nice music. mission control looks a bit chaotic still these afghan builders are still completing construction so it's shambolic and i am at their mercy. once it's completed i shall feel a sense of contentment as i can expand a little. 

i drive over to zabriski point,  a stunning mansion where i will stay for a few weeks, it has spectacular views and the split level design is striking and funky. there's art work everywhere, colourful and flamboyant, a wonderful  oceanic breeze straight into the lounge and my own throne right up the top with panoramic views. the house is massive with the bedrooms up back and an outdoor spa. down the front of the house is the beach. 

i head home for the xmas experience.

i am tired, everything seems to ache and muscles i never knew existed seem to require attention. boxing does that, i did a workout yesterday that had me on my knees. i seem to have pushed through to a different stage, power.
i don't know where it comes from, i guess after learning the stance and the punch technique, the legwork and the breathing then comes the power. it's not sustainable, just a few moments of strange energy, even my breathing has shifted. 

i have a long way to go but i am getting better, there has been improvement. 

my hair is getting in my way, maybe time for a hairband.

i travel along the straight track to central, where all nexus seems to converge and four watchtowers meet. there is them, there is i the wandering captain, there is you and there is it. we drink a beer and eat some food in a noodle market where people seem to enjoy the ambient twilight, the mid-afternoon sun as clouds roll by looming threatening saturation intermittent summer heat. we laugh, tell stories and then head down towards the foundry while jake and company head in an opposing direction to dance drink and play.

my mission is to listen to laugh, to say thank you to agent wild for being a friend, a friend on the end of a phone at the midnight hour. a friend who gets me home alive year after year when my body aches, my eyes rebel and my thoughts seem to turn towards the liminal when i should be focused on staying within my lane, avoiding the speeding trucks and hundreds of imminent dangers, agent wild gets me to the front door like a guardian angel.

so we sit in the shadows, drinking our cocktails.

steve is there on stage, he hits some chords and noodles around, already i am relaxed and calm, sinking into the corners and merging with shadows. it's true i have heard these songs before, the many anecdotes between all are familiar but still i laugh, still i smile. there's something really great and unique about steve, a rock star who rose then fell and then really rose beyond the rise. all that reminiscence at fame, at the absurdity of it, the close encounters, the excess, the unique irony that plagued the church as he weaves his way through the songs that took him to his heights and lows and i'm there on that ride with him. it takes an astute individual to look back with that kind of detachment, to gaze at his own spiteful envy at bands more successful, chart positions and personalities, the reviews that haunted him. often characters he impersonates so well it becomes incomprehensible they are not there themselves, micheal chugg handing steve a bag of cash after a gig, the cocaine fuelled tour manager of slade chasing richard ploog around, the weird record executives and producers who steve clashed with. these stories all reflect figures that burned brighter than than steve, zapping him of his own directed trajectory but they have long faded and the church still shine. and steve has made his own journey higher than fame or stardom. its a trip right? 

there's something really special about steve, the honesty, the humour, his rocky road i guess. it's the road that makes life interesting, i rather see steve play than anyone else. it's not the familiarity but the constant wonder that the man who can write and play 'just for you' also does priest = aura.' how is that possible, two incredible songs, i wonder, as the soft night begins to crack, the echoes faintly fade and i can feel the straight line calling me back. 

i must say the added bonus of 'taken by surprise' was a joy! 
a perfect song and karin was in the audience, what a treat that must have been.

merry xmas steve. long may you make music.

shock!
horror!
conspiracy!
you have been duped!
check it out yourself, 

the truth will set ya free 

(not guaranteed)

https://kanekoa.substack.com/p/how-obama-and-biden-installed-neo

in my dream it's night time

i'm driving through the rain

it's pitch black out there 

although my headlights seem to create a short vista of road

like a strange eternal tunnel

when suddenly!

i hit a man.

his upper torso and arms in silhouette

details missing.

i wake up in quite a fright.
who was that man, was it me or am i the driver. 

i don't know.

maybe both.