well written, entertaining and poignant, yellowface looks at the culture wars. it's light and funny with a heavy heart as a young writer steals the manuscript of her best friend and rival. it's absurd and strangely reflects the age we seem to be in where it's almost taboo for a writer to inhabit a perspective from another culture. in this case the white american has stolen and published a book about an event in chinese american history. the publishing industry is as fickle as every other 'art' industry and with the internet it's not long before someone 'busts' our heroine for being a fake. it's not even important that she may or may not be a fake, what is important is the social media is where witches are burnt if they stray to far from the collective reality, a type of madness. it's an easy read for a plane trip, something sad about watching (reading) about a celebrities fall from grace but if you stick your head to far above the water, someones going to shoot it.

simple minds via planet funk - one step closer

 

one lone day off, the sun streams down as my laundry dries on the line. i'm drinking mushroom coffee, laced with potent herbs from netherlands. down at mission control the church blasts out eroz zeta, a sort of alternative universe to ziggy stardust, i love the sounds, the words. it's amazing. my neighbours must be getting sick.

much to do, domestics take priority, but i need to spend the next phase of the morning in the sun, soaking up some natural vibrations and enjoying the warmth while it lasts. i repot a large cacti, it's a lot of trouble but eventually i manage to do it successfully, although you would have to ask the plant how traumatized it is from the ordeal. everything feels right so i take some time out for a few hours.

strangely i have to replace my cutlery so i go on a shopping expedition,  picking up a few other things while i am there at the massive centre i usually avoid. everywhere people are bustling around me, the noise is irritating, the piped muzak disturbs my cellular memory and i find a way to accelerate my traverse through the mall. i certainly was never born to shop.

as afternoon is upon us i unwind, return to a few chores but nothing to ambitious, it's time to chillax, besides i can feel that hash cookie coming on.

blazing of the fire
deeper than an ocean

a force of concentration

the mantra blocks all thoughts

leaving words of power

perhaps sigil minded

the mind becomes focused.

in sex there is a power 

the psychic censor obliterated

subconscious free to implant suggestion

for the operation to begin

when flesh meets flesh

friction is an energy.

and if sex isn't your bag

then there's the monastic favorites, 

sleeplessness, fasting and exhaustion

torture, self flagellation

the censor weakened by time

one slips into trance 

the gateway to ecstacy.

the imp had been following me for days, pesky fucking thing, messing with my books, teasing the dragon, jumping out from behind the sofa while we were watching tv, spilling oats and maple syrup everywhere, throwing my hat over the neighbours' fence and generally just fucking things up.
he said he name was edmond, some sort of 13th-century origin, and he enjoyed our banter which made me realize he wanted my attention but time is very tight. 

it took me about seven days before i trapped it after i had several clumsy attempts. there have been five models of entrapment, five currents traditionally. 
the first can be described as a spirit model, which i guess shaman and traditional ceremonial magickians use, the second is energy work which healers use, the third is psychological where symbolic representation is used, then i guess there is the information model which is cerebral and then there's instinct. 

my instinctive mode told me not to fight this particular demon but to make a pact. it was a naughty spirit and not really dangerous, just good at pressing my buttons like an irritating flatmate.

so, i made the pact, a complex process but effective. edmond was allowed free range at catching moths, cockroaches and flies. he could inflict whatever evil tortures upon them. pull them apart, use fire, ice cube em, trap them in jars, turn them inside out. i had to turn a blind eye. in turn he would stop fucking with my zen.

i'd ruled out any other insects species as he was demanding access over larger grasshoppers and even frogs, mouses, bats and cats and negotiated him down to the three species of insect because they were so in abundance. 

my days start early at the moment, i like to cruise down to the beach, do some wave type things, read in the sun, and take a slow drive home in the hybrid. sometimes i stop at harris farms to buy some fresh ingredients but mostly i like to go home and potter around. because i have had a few months off i'd made good progress inside the house but mostly outside in the garden. the back looks amazing, really deep jungle vibe. the front had had two trees chopped down and some foliage cut right back making it very light. my fish have less shade but can still hang out under the bridge. 

as i exit the car i can hear splashing from the pond. often the fish will get excited when i feed them and make little splashing sounds but this morning the splashing was more rhythmic and regular. it was edmond who was dangling his feet in the water splashing like a three year old.

'hey, what are you doing,' i yelled.

'playing with these fish, enjoying the outdoors, catching some rays, in deep meditation, plotting a novel, taking to some plant spirits, what the fuck do you think i'm doing mission? i'm just relaxing.'

'okay, well i hope those fish are not being traumatized.'

'what the fuck do you take me for, don't answer that, just back off and leave me alone. i ain't doing no harm.'

his long beak like face scrunched up while his big eyes glared at me, clouding over in blood red. and then as we locked eyes, his tongue a forked serpent shot out and wrapped itself around a crawling bug. it retracted slowly into edmond's beak like mouth. 

i let it go, stuck my key in the door and went to do some pottering, mumbling under my breath.

this is the problem with pacts, you are committed. it does my head in but a pact is a pact. given time one of us will break it. 

one week later, i'm not enjoying the cold but soaking up sun with my solar panelled skin,  i stay isolated and keep my head down, no point in drawing attention to the zombies. i discover a groovy new breakfast place, it's off the beaten track and cheap as chips. i read, lean and tidy and ponder how i can remove tons of books i seem to have collected over the years i don't need. my nose is freezing and i hunt around for my blue mountains scarf to wrap myself in. 

i ponder getting the train into the city today, after all it's the first night of vivid and if i wrap up i can bear it but the clouds and threatened rain deter me from any rash moves, maybe home with some movies would be a better alternative, after all tomorrow i have a big day, heading out to look at a new car on my way to work. i like my current car a lot except for the colour which really is no reason to get a new car at all. i don't like the fact is don't have a cd player at all but apparently all new cars no longer have them. that's a sort of depressing fact really.

i feel very out of place, all my technology is outdated, i need new stuff but what's the point, it just gets outdated fast and no longer operational. this built in time limit makes everything disposable, everything cheap and nasty. i can see why the main reational in life is to unplug and get of the grid as much as possible. however to do this you need a lot of money and resources.

my needs are simple, i need warmth, sunlight, blue skies, healthy food and good surf in warm waters. and a cd player.

time swings by, delirium, faces transport themselves across the film like minor players, i don't know what happened to the ending, it feels like the director just couldn't think of an ending and let everything just descend into chaos, i look to revelation where chaos makes sense. the non believers must be crazy if they can't see what's going down. crazy or part of the problem. 

my submarine plunges deep below the surface, full fathom. i'm with the octopus, for here even the alien environment makes more sense. i wonder how much hate there is in the world of man but the conundrum tires me. in fact i feel exhausted today, yet there is much to do, 200 thousand leagues under the sea. that's a lot of mermaids. 

eros zeta and the perfumed guitars. it arrived in london on my last week but no one has cd players anymore so i waited until i arrived back at mission control and listened to it with my usual church ritual. 

some music is sacred isn't it. you can't just play it at a dinner party or while your busy doing something else, the church need full attention preferably an altered state of some kind. weed is perfect, it always has been my way of listening to a church new release. 

the overall sound is typical but lusher and mellower than usual, intricate and layered in sublime energies, yeah all that usual jazz and along with steves' words, it's easy to retreat into my happy place. 

what's different, it's much more experimental, a very nice acoustic type ring to it, there's a oriental continental rhythmic authenticity,  i'm picking up that this music from the future was recorded in an exotic environment, there's a strange kind of evenness around it that completes it, some sort of continuity i like. steves vocals goes places new and interesting, some great literary lines and that unique delivery pushing even further into the idea of a song. 

i love music that takes me somewhere and each song moves me into the freedom of my own imagination, a vast cosmos with no boundaries, no limits, steves' lyrics are the subliminal framework for details while the music forms the dark matter, or something like that. who knows why this affects me the way it does, there's a consistant beauty to the album, it's perfect as far as albums go, and easy to drown within. i think that's sublimation.

i don't want to list individual songs, it's impossible to dissect them to  components, this is a concept and holistic feel. songs from the hypnoguage. a nested album. it's a new frontier for the sound of the church. very original and fresh, apparently it comes with side effects but all i can say is i'm lost in it, and quite happy to stay that way.

often i wonder what can the church do next to surprise me, after all i've heard it all, every song, every incarnation, and then they surprise me. more than surprise, they affect me on a deep emotional level, it's almost like watching your children being born. overwhelmingly beautiful. a miracle. god knows we need them, even tiny ones like a new church cd and i am filled with gratitude.  

wow, back to work and my motivation is very low, it's hard to get into the swing of things. it's nice seeing everyone but it's the same old same old and i'm really doing things i don't like doing anymore, it feels different, i feel different. maybe i need time.

it's very cold here at the moment but each morning i head to the beach to bask in the sunlight, enjoy a cheap healthy breakfast and coffee and read a few chapters. it's very quiet, peaceful. i like this type of tranquility, nature. it feels really good. 

i don't have much happening now, the garden needs a bit of a prune, the boxes of books i want to sell need selling, mission control needs a slight declutter, my kitchen needs to be tidied up.  with the kitchen i may get wild childe to help, she's very good at this sort of thing whereas i seem to have a mental block. anyways there are things to keep me busy. i wonder why i need to be busy at the moment, and apart from keeping warm it may be to just prepare for winter. 

from portal to portal

the return of

captain mission

 

 

 the zombie apocalypse has reached a critical point in the last few months, we can see the rabid hordes on their brainwashing campuses and in most media, raving and drooling about what delusions they seem to suffer from and want to inflict upon those few left with an independant mind. they carry on distorting perceptions, unable to accept reality or history or factual evidence, the deranged mass will eat itself soon, it's only a matter of time. funded by george soros, the rockerfeller foundation and bill gates the zombies are way beyond useful idiots stalin used, they are now full fledged zombies with a penchant for jewish blood and brains. occasionally they roll out a token jew, and claim their high ground. there were jewish nazi's as well, sadly a few percentage of them felt a certain self loathing or alienation, so extreme they pretended they were nazis hoping after extermination of the other jews they would get honorary status but totalitarianism knows no end, hitler, stalin, mao and soros, all part of the same thing.

here in mission control i clean up the debris from 6 weeks of wild weather, the lawn is fine but there are plenty of weeds and palm fronts to clear, muddy driveway and leaves scattered everywhere. the air needs to blow through the doors so as soon as it's dry i open everything. cold wild currents weave their way through the rooms, may plant life moves inside again.

i take the car for a spin, crank it down to the beach. my first proper coffee in two months, i can't tell you how good that is. it's really good. 

in the final day, i fly out soon, a matter of hours. i did enjoy the final week, some great nights out with my brother and jake as we wandered via time machine peeling back layers of history and looking under the surface into secret london, deep time. history leaks through the grey walls, it's hidden between the cracks on the street and the vast array of stone monoliths and statues sprawled throughout the city, and i notice how on a street level lay the material statues, the henry moores, the monuments to fallen, the great and the important. yet higher up, up beyond are the symbolic statues, the mythic, the angelic and the potent. the occult london. 

in star bars sky roofs and towering escarpments, the city switches over as twilight enters, people with wealth beyond means and imagination drink exotic cocktails and wear designer outfits, there's a certain elegance and style but you wonder at the banks they work at, the pharmaceutical industries, these are probably pawns in some expansive corporation, then again aren't we all, some dark, some shades of lights, some burn bright. like the stars, i am reminded of bowie's 'stars are out tonight' song. 

the flight back is the usual awful journey in economy however i stretch my legs wandering around chatting with the ba hostesses and talking to other restless passengers. at singapore i buy a terrible coffee, i throw it away it's so bad. 

i drift in and out of sleep, i watch south park, and discover a bowie concert at the bbc, i close my eyes and enjoy the sounds of a 1995 gig, bowies in fine form, so is his band and especially mike garson who is suburb. there's a few nuanced changes to songs, more intricacies, that piano is amazing as is zacks drumming, tight, furious and exemplary. i drift and drift and before i know it i'm heading homewards on the train, and now after a massive clean, i prepare for a shower and rest. mission control needs a huge clear out, inside and out. i have to get cracking now and make some big changes. maybe install a new kitchen or something. i certainly should invest in one more bookcase. 

it's nice to be home.

it's a broken city haunted by broken ghosts, public transport groans and creaks with age as i ride along in the strange grubby underground tubes conceived in the victorian age and abandoned by future generations, it's fast but filthy. makes we wonder why they clean the emissions above ground with u-lez schemes and scams and yet the underground is polluted and filthy, worse than any cigarette smoke. and on the jubilee line as you get past finchley the horrific ear shattering noise that pierces all known audio levels. most people are attached to screens, ipads or phones, there's a disconnection i never see anywhere else and i wonder if it's a desperate need to escape. 

my fellow passengers are part of the zombie horde, skin disorders and rotten teeth, eyes are filled with invisible rats that are bigger than cats and rabid dogs, the sewers overflow down the concrete cracks and a population of the undead drink far to much from anothers cup and chain smoke rothmans cigarettes until they are buried in ash. 

i'm fighting the contagion, i don't want to fade here, i want to burn bright, i feel the tendrils of depression and anxiety, the clutches of the psychic energy off nine million undead. 

 chickpea fritter

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil 60 ml
• 1/2 cup all purpose flour 60 grams
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup beer 120 ml
• 1 shallot
• 1 clove garlic
• 2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley 8 grams
• 1/2 tsp sweet smoked Spanish paprika 1.25 grams
• 1/2 tsp ground cumin 1.50 grams
• 1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans) 15.5 oz / 440 grams
• sea salt & black pepper

FOR THE AIOLI

• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/4 tsp saffron threads
• 1/2 cup low fat mayonnaise 120 grams
• 1 tsp lemon juice 5 ml
• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 15 ml
• sea salt & black pepper

Instructions

1. Add the flour into a large bowl, make a well in the middle, crack in the egg and whisk the egg, then add in the beer and whisk everything together until you a creamy batter

2. Add in the shallot finely chopped, finely grate in the garlic, add in the chopped parsley, sweet smoked Spanish paprika, ground cumin and season with sea salt & black pepper, mix together until well mixed

3. Drain the can of chickpeas into a colander and rinse under water, then shake off any excess water, transfer the chickpeas into a bowl and using a potato masher or large fork, mash down on the chickpeas until they're semi-mashed

4. Add the mashed chickpeas into the bowl with batter and mix together

5. Heat a large fry pan with a medium heat and add in the olive oil

6. After a couple of minutes start adding in spoonfuls of the batter, all in a single layer and evenly spaced out, cook in batches, fry for 3 minutes per side or until golden fried, transfer into a dish with paper towels as you finish

7. To make the aioli, add in the cloves garlic roughly chopped into a mortar, along with the saffron and a pinch of sea salt, using a pestle pound down on the ingredients until you get a paste-like texture, then add in the mayonnaise, lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil and season with a kiss of sea salt & black pepper, whisk together until you get a creamy sauce

8. Transfer the aioli into a serving dish and decorate the fritters around it, serve warm or at room temperature, enjoy!