bowie earls court 1978

my dad got me a ticket for this one, i forgot to mention it in my speech. it was probably one of the greatest things he ever did for me. i know that sounds weird but for me it meant everything. i was 16 years old. a north london punk on the cusp of leaving the uk. i can't remember who i saw the show with, how i got there or what happened, all i know is it was the best night of my life so far. 'station to station' stood out as being the magnificent live soundscape but it was 'beauty and the beast'  and 'blackout' that stole my heart. if i had means i would have seen the other shows but i was broke, and dad had pulled a rabbit out of a hat for me. i still don't know how he managed to get me a ticket but wherever you are dad, thank you.

my brother sent me an e mail a few weeks ago.
it stated that he was going through my fathers papers and had discovered something that may be off interest to me. i opened the attachment and started to read. it was written from my great grandmother, a woman i had only heard about and never met. 

my speech which i had made at the funeral was filled with stories describing my relationship with my dad, his bewilderment by me, the imagination he fed and the ideas that shaped me as a child. 

as i was reading the papers, my grandmothers words, i could feel her, falling in love with my grandfather as a young girl. marrying into his circus (although she describes it as a carnival. she describes the animals, the performers, giant wheels, merry go rounds, aeroplanes, singing and dancing girls, magicians and one man called jake lax who used to climb a giant staircase 160ft high, light himself on fire, jump into a pond which was also ablaze. thousands of people used to travel hundreds of miles just to watch him.

then she describes moving into a new house, which is filled with ghosts. she lists and goes into detail some of the experiences people had and how it resulted in the complete breakdown of many staff and family. her oldest children were petrified, and something my dad often spoke about was how the ghosts would drag the kids from their beds by their ankles. the kids would stop eating, shake, get terribly sick. 

as i read the stories, i connect several dots missing in my life. it's very interesting to have the past come back, it does happen a lot often filling in missing spaces.

sometimes i would tell people my history and they would not believe half the things that occurred, i guess the truth is stranger than fiction. certainly for me, which is why i seem to inhabit the strange so comfortably. 

yay! agent wilde out of hospital. back home with the cat and bird. concrete spine, heart of gold, agent wilde childe on parole. the sun is warming, the cellotape sky, holds everything together in the the ancient light. new dawn rising, a narrow escape old friend, my night angel lives again. lives again to listen in, don't touch that dial, we are tuning in. 

 

loving life at the moment, it's so easy to get bogged down in the murk of it all but at the end of the day life just pushes through. it's all in the light, my cryptic eye deciphers all codes and secret languages. years of gateway, intuitive compass and strange alien interventions have set me on the road. i have no idea if it's less traveled or what, it appears some individuals i encounter on my travels are also on a similar road but most are lost in it's labyrinth.

the dawn sun rises up over the winters waters, the crystal fractal of life imploding forwards through the face of time, always ahead of anything we call the now. it's neither cold or warm, for a split second of infinity, the day just expands. 

i've eaten the lotus baby, i have oppenheimer eyes, bohr's pineal gland, max planks left hemisphere and feynman's right. definitely a touch of einstein in the hair follicle. 

i loved that line in oppenheimer when he said what gives the allies the edge is the fact hitler saw quantum physics as jewish, therefore he would never invest in it and therefore antisemitism would win the war. 

by the way, oppenheimer is a magnificent film, a certain history pattern, meditation, a poetic documentary, thriller and love story that shows the implication of contradictory forces, chain reactions and cause and effect, throw in an uncertainty principle and wow! 

i do love nolan as a film maker, the guys a visionary. no one makes films like him. he's the kurbrick of my generation. one in a million.  

 

 

fuck plastic, i hate it. it's time for me to climb upon my wagon and shout out my protest at the whole debacle, let's get rid of the stuff. let's fucking just get it off this planet and send it into the heart of the sun. it's vile awful poison, polluting the planet and life. and let me just say to all the morons who bang on about carbon, plastic would have been a much better option to bang on about as a threat to life, greta, get real, when i think about it's prevalence in our lives it's everywhere. the endless stupid packaging that ends up everywhere, in the oceans. in the fucking oceans. i remember travelling through africa, it could have been tanzania when i gazed outside looking at the fields of trees, bare with no leaves, only a multitude of plastic bags hanging from branches where they had been caught. surreal salvador dali like disaster, and that was 20 years ago, god knows how bad it is now! it has to go. 

it's now my enemy.

and yeah, i know it's a bi product of oil but oil is biodegradable and borne from nature, plastic is forever alien. let's just do everyone a favour and fucking say goodbye to the plastic age.

what is plastic but symbolic of everything inauthentic anyways, plastic entertainment is consumed endlessly, plastic politics, plastic ideology, plastic imbues itself so much into the world we now can't tell the difference between man and woman. it's seeped into poison our brains, minds and therefore thinking. everyone walks around confused, misunderstanding the difference between what's real and what's fake. reality is broken because everything has become inverted, inauthenticity becomes the truth, the truth becomes a lie. it's been heading in this direction for a long time, i've been watching it happen in slow mo while everyone laughed at me. you can trace it back to, the age of plastic, that's where mankind took the wrong turn and stopped evolving. now we just mutate to the point we will begin to eat one another. 

 

one of my fave movies was 'dances with wolves' i'd kinda forgotten about it to be honest and one day last year while wandering through a sydney bookshop i found this hardback, which includes the sequel 'holy road' which i had never heard off. i picked it up and put it down in mission control. yesterday i picked it up and started to read it.

i've always had a very strong, almost supernatural affinity to the north american indians, my past lives, my heart and my natural shamanic disposition steers me to all things indian, the spirit inside me glows. 

although i have only just started, the book is gorgeous.  it's written in the poetic form of a western man, a solider who has seen death, war and civilisation as he ends up alone on the frontier. his first encounter with an native indian is electrifying, as is the indians perception of him. 

it's rare for me to enjoy writing like this, it happens once in a blue moon, i love this book and i have only just started. i've always been fascinated with people who let go of their advanced civilised culture with all it's technology, comforts, laws and regulations, religions and politics to embrace the new tribal life, the natural order of things. be it a south american jungle tribe, north american or alien (avatar being the obvious one) the concept is always interesting as the journey is one i relate to. 

in a way, when i arrived in australia i was thinking how wild and frontier like my little town was. obviously it changed rapidly but avalon was a very amazing place, with it's own untamed culture of poets, painters, writers and freaks. some rich and others poor but the beauty was you would never know. we would sail around the waterways, head into the bush, i would see wildlife, sharks, dolphins, whales and weird insects. i would meet wild people pursuing wilder dreams and aspirations. i encountered many strange spiritual pathways, healing modalities and philosophies, i had my first shamanic experience, my first direct encounter with the great spirit. 

obviously it was not the wild west, but the journey was strangely familiar and as i read this incredible book, i reminisce about the way i felt, being in awe of the new, the space, the vastness and discovering the ancient culture of the aboriginals through my friend francis firebrace, looking at the big night skies with agent stone. the whole period was frontier - like as i saw the big picture and my part within it.

the novel is like swimming in a rich ocean of nourishment, it's not particularly academic, transient, transgressive or beat but it's just a beautiful story well told and reading it puts me there.

 

in the ancient times of the mayans the kings sacrificed people endlessly, a factory of death to the gods. for good weather, climate that gave birth to good crop yields. a pestilence free season, more male births and security.

nothing really has changed has it? except the motive. modern blood rites are war, pharmaceuticals and the inhumane march of industry. we, the peasants paying tax to have ourselves with less, including less freedom, we are being fucked over. if it's not a stupid war it's a mandated jab that kills you or makes you sicker than the disease it should prevent. 

the enemy is not us, it aint them, it's the people we elect to represent us, and let's be honest we don't even really elect them. they are put there by the real people who rule the world, the corporations and power blocs, london, washington and the vatican, all pushing their goals upon us, slavery and death. 

 

 

halfway through dead silence which i began feeling somewhat apprehensive about and gradually fell into the story, specifically the characters. it's a old trope, a long haul with a washed up crew about to return home pick up a distress signal. the signal comes from a long lost luxury ship akin to the titanic that mysteriously vanished. the captain makes the decision to claim salvage and the crew board her, only to find something terrible awaits them.

this is a classic horror novel but set in space, what makes it good is the characters whom are sympathetic and interesting. i must admit there's some great visuals attached, descriptions that are ripe for the feature film, but it's nothing new, just well done. so far the 'mystery' has yet to be revealed but the reader finds out very early on, the captain is the only survivor.

i finished 'psalms for the end of the world' a week ago,  and was shocked to discover that the story ended up being similar to my own novel on a few points. however 'psalms' was far more complex and covered more ground. early on i picked out the 'bowie' references which later are littered through the whole narrative. in the writers acknowledgements he does mention bowie, and i must admit that was quite satisfying. i'm not sure if the whole novel worked, it was similar to 'ghostwritten' but lacked the dynamics, choosing a more intricate plot line. parts were excellent, and some parts just to messy, but all in all an excellent idea. again, a film in the making. 

 unusual to find such an intelligent conversation on dmt and hyper dimensional worlds. it's worthwhile settling in for 3 hours plus, and listening to the whole discussion. 

not sure how i managed the steal of the decade, over $20000 worth of wood for $100, pure luck i guess. i even got it delivered for free as well so that's a fantastic start to my new project at mission control. i started sanding, staining just before the rain, it takes about two days to dry and i'm now half completed. so far the huge heavy planks look great, as though i'm building an olde skool  long ship in the garden. carrying these planks is a challenging task but fortunately my training has increased my strength so i can do it alone. 
once i complete this, the interior of mission control will begin to come decluttered as i will have storage. 

unfortunately things with amazon didn't work out, i have to review my options. amazon seemed to be far to big a corporation to actually care enough about a sole trader and they offer no comprehensible support. the support i received was from a man with a foreign accent whom spoke very little english and communication was impossible. after that i just received several e mails that i couldn't reply to. a totally stupid system, a company which is great if you are a consumer but to be a seller is pointless. 

there are options, e bay, face book marketplace and physical markets.

i'm halfway through an interesting book, 'psalms from the end of the world' by cole holden which is very reminiscence of something david mitchel would write, ghostwritten, slightly more brutal. looking forwards to seeing where it concludes as the many diverse threads are so unconnected at the moment.