im so tired these days. nights are just a cold blur. if i told you mission control was like a remote aortic ice station in a power cut you would be getting close to last night. under my covers i shiver and shake, i'm so cold i can't actually stop moving, attempting to generate heat. heat, it's being sucked out of the universe. i'm in a weird sci fi movie, trapped in a skin tight bunker as an ice age looms around me. my moon powered zap gun has frozen, my feet are numb, my fingers are blue. fuck this!

i throw myself into the darkness, avoiding the piles of books, making headway down to the kitchen in my leopard skin fur coat, fill up the kettle and make a mug of hot chocolate. the kettle will take a few minutes to boil so i grab the last of my whiskey and drain the bottle.

now this is no normal whiskey, this is pokeno. all the way from new zealand. bliss. i love this stuff, it's warm and interesting, it's unlike any whiskey i have ever had, more a liquor. 

my eyes are aching from tiredness, i'm standing in candle light freezing my ass off being warmed from the inside out, waiting for the kettle to boil.

it must be around 4pm, i have not slept at all, soon the sun will rise, soon a warm wavelength will scan its way across the landscape, lighting up the suburb. i head over to the back garden and watch the shadows, soon birds will begin their rituals. i think about my friend who is learning to walk again, to stand even. i think about how she would be my number one person to call at such an odd hour as we keep similar times, i think about how much i miss that. i think about how brave she is, i think about how when i finally heard from her she asked me if i was okay? suddenly i feel tired. i forget the kettle, make my way through the obstacle course of mission control, walk up the steps to the bedroom and slide under the covers. sleep hits suddenly and i'm in some dream state almost immediately. 

not enough time, it's weird when you get to that point. time being the resource we all value as opposed to money. i wish i could give 'time' like you donate money, i guess there's transplants and organ donations but that kinda goes against what i'm talking about here. i'm talking about units of time. say ten people all donated a year to someone they loved so that person gets an extra 10 years. 

i know this could only work in natural life spans not including acts of god, fatal accidents but it could work as acts of love or compassion. look i need my years, i'm no saint but for people you really care about, it would be easy for me. i've lived a hundred lives, all there is for me left is to write about them. but some people you need in your life, some people are like air, water or food. i'd give them a year without thinking to hard about it. i guess quality of life comes into play as well. i don't want to give a year to someone and prolong their suffering, but i would if they could have a good quality life free from pain. i figure after 80 years old people could offer a younger person undergoing some sort of terminal illness a year. i'm 61 but i'd happily live to 79 rather than 80 if it meant an extra year for someone i love. 

i guess it's easy to write this but harder to do. i will let you know at 79. i don't know, i've given money to people, blood even. i've given time as well but not in a pact equation like:

(a)minus 1 year = (b)plus 1 year

the thing about it all is helplessness, i feel inadequate, i feel god is inadequate yet i know that not to be true. the cosmic vision knows it all makes sense but i can't see it. i just see my friend suffering and it makes me sad. 

dawn sees me withering and writhing as the early morning light feels like hot knives, i'm in deep dark vampyre mode and the last thing i need is light, religion, holy water and garlic toast, in fact all i want is to stay in the dark. but the scent of blood hits me like a irresistible force. something in the old dna flips a switch. a spark ignites some sort of cellular fire. i awaken fast, go through my morning rituals fast, i move through saturday morning duties fast, i meet all known responsibilities fast and then i prepare for sustenance. 

a snort of it fills my body with an unholy ecstacy. if demons sung, if pain were pleasure, if the inversions were diversions and the perversions just versions of virgins, that pure flesh scent. angels dancing on the head of the pheromone queen. i've had compulsions before, let's face it i follow my obsessions to their dead end. drugs, girls, books, music, philosophies and arts. all these i know have their own limitations, so as i ride the face of the shockwave, that presence we call now, the moment, the very expanding force that travels into the unknown i can focus my attention upon it perfectly and nothing else matters because everything is known. life, death, life, death, we are leaving or returning, it's all the same in the end. but it's interesting to play with perspective, especially as a station approaches. 

reincarnation, incarnation, everything is in flux. heightened sensitivity informs me, i am a shockwave rider. i could do anything but i'm un-paralysed by non action. if i were a werewolf i would howl at the moon but when you are a vampyre it's the sun that makes you howl, with it's ancient light illuminating all the dark corners, it's pathetic photon signature and it's blinding truths, liberating and banishing. 

i'm faster than night, faster than light, i can beat the looming oppression of  the visible spectrum, 400 to 700 nanometres by slowing down my existence or speeding it up. life comes fast, so it can deceive you. with it's thinly disguised brutality and confidence trick. you say there's nothing up it's sleeves. but the truth is everything is up its sleeve. everything.

there's no fucking escape, you cannot shut your eyes, you cannot out fathom it or second guess it. fate you can hate, but luck you can love. one cancels the other. and that's the deal, as soon as you get a face. that's the hand that keeps us equal.

and when the sun comes, it shall destroy my memory. the material vessel will rot and rejoin the earth from which it comes, and the nutrients it creates will feed the flowers and trees, and sustain the creatures and thus eternity lies within a grain of sand. i don't fear it, but i feel it. absence, it's a killer man, it's a comedown. 

  

my weary bones head out at 9am ready to meet my cousin at town hall. he's in town for five days so as i wait outside basking in the glorious sydney winter sun, watching the tourists in uniform, watching the vast cosmic purpose obscured by moments of consumerism. invisible structures imprison and contain us, keep us eating the jungles and oceans, we are all in pain, life is suffering, we all hurt in the unbearable weight of unknowing. except me. everything i know aligns this evening, my day has a trajectory, a nexus point where like the best drug, the best hit of bliss, the most powerful orgasm, all points converge at the enmore theatre.
in the meantime i see a man waddling along in a puffer jacket, we shake hands, hug etc, it's been a long time. he's en route from florida to tokyo, and in the mood for buying puffer jackets. maybe it's a weird phase. we go to a few stores, we talk to a few puffer people. i watch them, wondering what the allure is, to me they look ridiculous. but my cousin loves them and stocks up. he says he owns seven already, some very expensive ones. 

me i don't like them at all. they are the weirdest form of clothing i have ever heard off and those colours!
we eat average food, average service, drink sub standard coffee, now that's unusual for sydney i think. maybe we are just unlucky. we catch up on family stuff, it's good to see him but i am jaded and tired. i just want to sleep but can't, so i drink coffee and attempt to motivate myself towards the vortex of love a few hours away. 
i split from my cousin as i have to get moving. alone i wander nude town eating my blue stripes whole cacao dark chocolate bar (coffee flavour), i get a energy drink, buy a turkish coffee, eat an ice cream, pop into a buddhist shop and end up buying a rare book,  i also pick up from a second hand seller an equally rare tesla book, which i'm very happy about. 

i wander into an art gallery as i am magnetically attracted by the two paintings on display. just a long white paper with a charcoal marking, that from a distance looks like  cardio graphic graffiti, but upon closer inspection looks like some weird alien language. i love it, not just for it's simplicity but for the energy it contains. the lady running the gallery and i chat about experimental art, she takes my number for her next opening. i dunno, old captain mission at the art gallery openings, all that pretension under one roof, these days there are far to many artists and not enough art. although free drinks and canapes. what is a canape anyway?

then i meet my church friend agent wilde. 
agent wilde is being challenged with some heavy shit right now, the type that could break anyone, but she is graceful, good humored and brave. 

i know she is in pain, a lot of crippling pain. to have even made it out tonight is a massive effort. but she was motivated for the same reason i am.

we get to a restaurant and have a lovely meal, then we enter the enmore where various church friends meet and greet us, mostly her, i like to fade into the shadows in awkward social situations unless we are talking about books, but everyone is super friendly and cool, and when i see the merch desk i turn all hyper-sonic and mainline it straight for the beautiful baseball cap on display. yep, that will do me perfectly.

it's so weird as i wear a lot of different hats, literal ones baby. i have a great collection but i have not got a baseball one and they are my fave type of hat / cap. 

all last week everyone around me was buying hats, and i kept saying how i want a baseball one but it would have to be kinda perfect, then lo and behold. 

we sit in the second row and then it begins. 

for the first time i am sitting in front of ian and can watch his playing, discerning his style, his playing technique and contribution to the collective. i'm amazed at how he uses his machine, it's very sensual and elegant, he's got a very english style that came from the post punk days but he owns it, he's made it his own. interweaving with ash on the other guitar they do blend into one another in that classic church groove, it's marvelous to focus on what ian does. i kinda like his energy, it's very surfer like, in fact all through the show i ride the sound waves like i would ride water ones, they are beautiful. 

this incarnation of the church is perfect, two drummers / percussionists also interchangeable. there's jeffery cain in the shadows multi tasking with extreme commitment, to me the beating heart to steve's brain.  i always felt steve had an ideal in his head that he never quite felt satisfied with, it's nothing tangible, it's just my intuition speaking. i always felt he may not really quite ever be satisfied or at least rarely. i mean the nature of the beast is collaboration, very few musicians work in isolation. and perhaps in the past steve has just felt he fell short of what he held in his vision.it's the curse of all creatives, to execute the vision exactly. 

if indeed that is the case, he achieved it tonight. 

this was a church that transcended all expectations, took a cold sydney seated crowd and ignited them  to the point of a standing ovation. the new songs from the hypnogouge were perfect live, the way the band delivered them was with a professionalism and style that borders on elegance and mother fucker prog rock and roll.  steve talks us through the tracks. the church have made prog rock very cool with this album but also with the way the old songs sound, like new ones. 

at the interval a sexy looking woman in front turns towards me and whispers about hearing me muttering 'wow' and 'amazing' at various parts of the show. it's true i was blown away by the musician ship, the tight virtuosity and creative aural architecture, and sometimes i just said unconsciously, 'wow!'

anyway she said, it was like hearing her own thoughts at exactly the precise time she thought them i said them.

we chatted a bit and she confessed how she was actually crying in parts of the show. i said i was to, because in the face of something so beautiful what else can you do.later she went to buy a tee shirt and showed it off to me, beautiful.

the new songs were my fave but the old ones sounded new so i don't know what to make of that except it was the best live concert i have ever seen. it really was.

i wanted to let each member know that, afterwards we were invited backstage but i always feel like an intruder, everyone else is uber cool, in croiwd types whereas i am just a triangle peg in a round hole. i did manage to thank ash naylor, ian haug, tim powles, steve and the second drummer as well who was lovely. but i never got to connect with jeffery cain whom i really love is part of the church. anyways next time. 

i was pretty stoned and steve gave me some very good edibles which managed to get me in all sorts of trouble on the way home.

what a night!

i'm still on a huge high. 

i wake up in roseville city limits, do a hard days night and then return to central coast where sunday sees me whale watching, drinking beers while listening to bill withers in the sun at a huge sunday chill out sesh, it's spectacular sunday, as i trek up the hill frontwards, to the old lookout where the ocean spawls out in perfect symmetry, blue water, blue skies, everyone is playing, everyone. i don't know, for a winters day it certainly is fine. a great day for the inevitable i think to myself, a truly perfect day.

there's paper all over the place and the sun streaming, birds are flapping about getting the worms, as i wander around in a cleaning frenzy listening to the hypongogue at full whack, it really is quite a beautiful album.  like all church albums the more i play it the more i love it. i no longer even take notice of the track names, it all just bleeds into one, as i discover bits and new sounds, parts of the mix are so rich and lush. it really is quite lovely and i wish i had more time to indulge within it's soundscapes, but the hours are in shorter supply as i move through time. i love that track where steve speaks on the outro, wow!  nice piano.

it's a glorious day and i have a lot to do. the car needs a clean, and i have heaps of laundry. furniture to move around in a big rearrangement.

i have to figure out how to transport the wood i need, a quote from the store said $200 but i feel there may be a cheaper way. it will come to me soon.

in the evening after the sun sets i watch a bit of tv, some weird movie about a bottle of water that seems to kill everyone who drinks it, i don't fully understand the story. the filming is interesting, nice sets and shots, good acting but the story is fractured and gets a bit nuts. these days there are very few things that i enjoy on a tv. 

i'm going to give 'the peripheral' a watch, a william gibson story i have not read. now that has to be interesting, it's surprising they would film his books as he's quite a complex story teller but i am intrigued. 

late night i get a phone call from a friend who wants to see me, as always i can't see anyone at the moment. there is far to much going on, i have to prioritise although i like this lady and wouldn't mind seeing her. it's kind she thinks of me and wants to share some space with me but i just can't do it.

nights are cold, thankfully i have a little of that new zealand whiskey to swig on, an amazing drink, not really whiskey at all. 

i see through you
by
the deep fix

i got my mojo working

it's shiney and it's new

it's cruising down the streets and 

it's looking at you

now that woman she is 

virtuous and true

it's never to late to redeem yourself

but i see through you

like you were transparent

and not really there

like you were made of glass

like you were walking towards me 

but you can just walk past

i have my x ray vision

it's a superpower for the ages

and your book is stuck together

can't turn those pages

but you can start a chapter

'borrowed and blue'

but baby it's far too late

i see through you

like you were not quite real

no depth or quality

one could say was true

so when you get close to me

i see right through you

a distant memory

a face i can't recall

a sad old story

maybe a bit boring

some old magick fading

you aint no lady

a great delusion, so untrue

i can see right through you.

phone rings non stop through the morning, builders reject my proposal, i'm not in the area, we are to busy, it's not the job we normally do. only in australia do people who have their own business reject customers. they just don't care anymore. i was in a shop the other day with two friends, one of whom was looking at dresses. it was evening and i guess almost closing time when 6 women walked inside and the owner ran to them and shouted, 'i'm just about to shut shop.'
now i don't know but i would have thought you never throw customers out, you just let them look, one may buy a few items, six may by more. i don't know but if i ran a business i would value my customers. nowadays they hate us. we are the scum and that's how we are treated.

i do get a confirmation from the builders to fix my leaky kitchen skylight, it's next tuesday apparently. i just want the leak fixed, lets see how these clowns are. if they are any better than any other of the builders i have been unfortunate enough to employ.  

once the leak is fixed i have to get a new lounge and some very special wood. at least 6 pieces of timber for a project i can do alone, all i need are a few sunny days and some japanese black paint. 

by july i should be done with it and mission control will be launching.

impossible to sleep, to cold to leave my bed. i twist and turn, i read for a while, i listen to a podcast, i dream in and out, i feel my father around me, i'm not sure as i don't like to put faith in uncertainty, but i keep seeing the word

BELIEVE

everywhere i look. it pops up in flashing lights, it's in my kitchen, it's said by strangers in cafes to me in random acts of weirdness. there was a time i believed in everything but these few years i believe in less. knowing my dad he is talking in some spiritual terms, there's no way i could believe in any human endeavour unless it is artistic, creative and beautiful.

BELIEVE

somewhere after 3am i slip into a deep sleep, like being enveloped by deep stasis, i travel between galaxies. my space ship knows which way to go. in my dream state i understand i have come a long way, travelled a distance, not just metaphorically but in a tangible history, in a psychological one as well. my 4D body is twisty, long and full of angles and angels. it's extreme, with huge arches of contrast. in a strange way in my dream it connects to my father, and then his father and it leaves a very long trail back through time across geography, wrapping itself around the globe until i take it off planet and into space.

BELIEVE

i wake late, drag myself to the shower and then head out. it's still gloomy, a bit cloudy and wet but the sun is breaking through. in a few weeks i have an event, i'm going to get together with my friend wild child and see out fave band and our very own rockstar. there are not many things that i look forwards to, nothing that would drag me out on a winters evening, but this event for us is our drug. it fills me with energy and propels me forwards. often a few weeks before a gig i feel deflated and empty, and then like being plugged in, i am alive again. wild child feels the same. i don't usually have expectations about the church gigs but this one will be very special i know. i can feel it. astrologically on that date venus aligns with the sun. and it's symbolic stone is moonstone, which is my stone.

BELIEVE

 

where are we now. reality is broken, it has split into two separating pathways. where once it was left or right, it is now freedom or slavery, and even this has been weaponised for the slavers have inverted truth and call the liberators nazi's and the right wing extremists and their side conquers newspeak and inflicts it upon us. this inversion has been going on for 30 years, i have watched it but never did i think it it would occur so rapidly in my lifetime. 
i am also split in two, the political animal and the spiritual being. the problem is i must let go of political analysts and detach from it being a saviour. it's to late, elections are rigged not just on a national level, but at a local one. i mean how much input do you have into your local council.
the control of media, information and technology is now in the hands of the controllers. political truth belongs to them. they dictate what you believe. it's one big psy op. trump is a russian agent. you fell for that? 

what else have you fallen for?
he's just a buffoon who never stood a chance, he was this, he was that, but that was never the truth. the only truth that mattered was everyone hated him. the fbi, coperate america, the cia, england, the left, the right, the tech companies, every single powerful institution hated him. for me, that says something. it speaks volumes. it's why i liked him. it's why i would say he and robert kennedy are the only hope for the usa, and therefore the west. 
if they were egoless they would join together, a democrat and a republican. it would revolutionise american politics, smash the word economic forum and world health organisation. stop global control of the now obvious fascists who control it. it really would set humanity free but that is unlikely.

intermittent sleep, lots of stuff going through my mind, the past catching up with the future, the crossfire trigger of now, the combination of synapses all sending signals through my cerebellum, i have infinite energy and spend most of the night reading. 

i started reading a grimore called 'the grimorium verum,' a sort of mish mash of codex's and previous grimores, some of it is based around christianity and some demonology, it's a strange collection of energies and the writer insists the entities are real as opposed to psychological claiming he witnessed one, 'asmodeus' appear before him without conjuring anything. the entity, he claims piqued his interest and thus he pursued a life of a magickian. i guess my experiences are somewhat different as i have not seen these incarnate in the traditional since, but they do incarnate in experiences, psychological manifestations, dreams and people that come into my life. so in the true spirit, anything is possible. 

the verum is far to convoluted for me, but the writer does offer a new way of casting, and this seems to be very effective and i may attempt it in time. i don't think his way is the official way that the verum articulates, but it is an alternative the writer has tested. however the magickal path is unique for every practitioner.

to be honest i am not a ritual magickian, the idea seems counter intuitive to my nature and the type of magick i have adapted to, however i want to explore these energies so i have a comparison. the traditional energies all look bizarre and childish, however i must adopt a certain respect. i believe they are expressions drawn by predecessors whom could not articulate what they were experiencing in any exact way, therefore the images are possibly representations of what they felt, how they experienced and what they understood. as all this stuff goes back thousands of years the architecture of the brain has evolved since then, and the mind along with it. what once we described in classical values can now be transcribed in more definitive ones. my own magickal framework has a quantum theoretical framework, in practice it's less ritualized, more instant. i can use scientific terminology to understate the theory more than the ancients could so while they perceive these beings as solid  with defined shape and forms, i may comprehend them as energy or manifestations from my own psychology. 

however there are various versions of the many grimores out these days, and it would be foolish to research only one translation. this was just an entry point, however if i wanted to be scientific i guess the lesser keys would be a good starting point. this type of magick starts with solomon so i may have to investigate a few translations. i tend not to like the academic ones like steve skinner and joseph peterson, and then again there are far to many new age takes upon the subject. however i have to push myself into new territory as see what sticks. i will let my intuition guide me, so far it's been true leading me to where i have to be. each experience opens a new door, a new realm.  

DROP EVERYTHING!

take the phone of the hook, forget work for a few days and loose yourself in this incredible techno thriller by one of the best cutting edge writers around, nir hezroni. wow! this guy can write and weave a complex plot that just gets more and more intense until you are wound up at 4am in the morning page turning to see what could happen next. i loved it. just go read it.

new business venture, jesus it's taken me a while to get things organised but it's finally happening. a little modest sideline to offset the huge increase in my expenses, inflation is all artificial, a banking conspiracy govts use when it suits them often before a huge war. hold on tight. anyways, this is kind of exciting and will require a little work so i have to knuckle down. i have a few days grace but then it will begin.

hold on!

you are like a marionette, pulled by invisible hands, manipulating and contorting you, my dreams reveal the real you better than my live experiencing the fake you. you never really understood anything, a slave to your pleasures and lusts. the words were jingoism, a corporate mix of weak spiritualism and business phrases in an attempt to exploit the zeitgeist.
the centre of the eye. desperation, drama, sucking down anyone into the pit of torment around yourself you cannot stop, it's not just a merry go round, it's a catherine wheel because one day it will burn itself out, and no longer even spin. just hang limp and lifeless, all vitality sucked from itself. and those unfortunately close enough to be burnt in those cycles will get hurt but recover, whereas you probably won't ever recover. your 'trauma' how often i had to endure the words, all the while your trauma was you. generating trauma was your own creation. 

you never understood what i meant by 'spiritual war' it was just a nice phrase you can use in social situations, dinner parties and events where you can gain attention. 

for me it was the culmination of a ten thousand year old  intuitive process i had embarked upon many lifetimes ago, the cosmic battle played out in the 4D.

and now at this point it's reached critical mass. 

we were supposed to work together to ascend into a different level where united we can use the strong vibration against the weak. i knew the points upon the planet we could create feedback loops, the great cosmic tantric ritual that would end the reign of evil mankind finds itself in. 

but we failed.

everything is energy. but it is directed. there is a game afoot as a mentor of mine would say, and we need to work it. it's not about saving the planet, the planet can look after itself, it's about saving the aspirations of freedom, truth and individuality from corruption. that means embracing our weakness, no saviour is perfection. 

i'm just a solider in the army of love. i take hits, but the battle rages.

the prequel to 'sleep in a sea of stars' is the novel fractal noise which has just been released. apparently 'sleep' is part of a series which would make sense as it left me with a lot of questions, it was a huge book but a great story so i just immersed myself in it and enjoyed the soft sci fi narrative. it was nothing really new but it was good. 'fractal noise' which is a quarter of the length is almost the opposite, a sort of shaggy dog story with no real conclusion or meaning. 

a ship passes a planet and discovers a hole, a perfect hole in a perfect circle, so perfect it must have been made by intelligent life. three crew members set out on an expedition to gain data from what they discover and share this with humanity. what they discover is humanity when pushed basically turns upon itself. eventually when we get to the hole, i found myself not even caring what they found, and worse the conclusion was pointless. 

oh well, he's a respected writer, everyone loves him. i tried and failed. i need more.