getting my heart scanned today and it does look like i have returned to arrhythmia which i will have to manage for two weeks before i see my cardiologist. it's just another challenge i have to deal with but i did enjoy chatting to the technician who was telling me the vaccine is the cause of it all, in his profession ever since the vaccines there has been a huge increase in heart issues and cancers. he explained how nsw health actually manipulated information on vaccines on two seperate occasions and have remained unaccountable. this is the curse of the age, unaccountability. at the bottom of the food chain we are all held to account, fined, sacked or penalised but at the top end you get away with mass murder.

so sad when i think about my friend martin von donaldson, i really wanted to see him again. was hoping i could zip over this year, hang out for a weekend or something. that would have been very special, martin jean and tea and old captain mission. and who knows maybe we could drag chris along as well. the thought makes me smile but life is filed with surprises and not all nice ones. 

lots of sad news this weekend, the first was from my brother informing me about a mutual friend of the family who was found dead in his bath. and not in a rock and roll way, nope mark it seems appears to have died from self neglect. overweight, no life, no friends, living on junk food  he just gave up and died. only 50. the irony is he was one of the kids my mother always wanted me to be like, and throughout my childhood and youth he was held up as shining examples of the people i should aspire to become. sure he was rich, he had loads of money but he was a strange guy who eventually my mother began to dislike. me i recall as a kid we would visit their big mansion in radlett and watch michael caine in zulu on the projector or play hide and seek. it was a huge freaking house. mark was okay as a kid, he was just very straight and he had an older brother nicky who was even straighter and even more boring. anyway's it's sad but to be honest there's no real connection for me. 

on the opposite end of the spectrum is my very old friend martin von donaldson, i was told about him sunday morning by jean and it's still quite shocking and sinking in. i first met marty around 1979 when i worked in carnaby street at a punk rock kinda shop. those days london still had a vibe and was heading into the post punk period, i hung out with lots of people and bands without knowing much about their aspirations, the sound, boy george before fame, the southern death cult who went on to be the cult, wham, the ruts, the au pairs and such just a parade of people that hung around the area, drinking in coffee shops, pubs or shopping for clothes. everyday around noon i'd see this guy walking down the street, he actually didn't walk, he strutted, with a bright orange ziggy haircut, chelsea boots and a black leather jacket he would cruise past. it turned out he worked at the bbc and spent his lunch break in carnaby street. one day he walked passed in a ziggy tee shirt and i was wearing a velvets one so we connected and started talking music and how i always wanted to sing bowie tunes. and he being a guitarist was attempting to put a band together. history was made. we became best mates, he would often come up to north london and hang out for the weekend at my parents and i would in turn go to his neck off the woods, bromley and tour old bowie landmarks with him. he introduced me to the band, a collection of lovely people including my friends tez and jean whom i still know and see when in the UK. martin and i eventually moved to west berlin together and shared an apartment, and many adventures until 1987 when i decided to move to australia.

marty was very talented, a natural rock star, he was even a rock star before he could play, he just had that energy. he was clever, very funny and possessed a temper on him that was explosive. i once saw him destroy a stamp vending machine with a block of ice in berlin with such ferocity and aggression there was nothing left of the machine. we had a lot of crazy times over there, like real crazy.

in australia i seemed to loose touch with everyone, i was starting a new life, a family and it was hard, we swapped a few letters, he wrote great letters but then we stopped, until 1998 when I googled his name with berlin guitar attached and his name popped up attached to a studio so despite it all being written in german the number was readable and i rang it then and there.  

'is martin there danke'

'yes, yes, he is standing right here.'

and thus we had our first conversation in a decade. 

although we exchanged a few e mails Martin never seemed to write back, although jean and tea kept in contact and even visited him in spain where he moved to. i knew he was ill but really thought he was recovering and so it's a big shock.at the back of my mind i thought we would meet up again and maybe record. we used to do a cracking version of 'cracked actor.' 

anyways, it's sad and can't help me thinking about it, the sudden elimination of life, one second you are here the next you ain't, it really is a blink of an eye. life. 

anyways marty was like me, a bowie nut, so it seems fitting i post this for him, see ya on the other side Martin.

for mvd 

morrissey - notre dame

the usual calamities at work, all i seem to do is pick up other peoples mistakes and have to correct them as well as attempt to do my own work, every thing becomes a challenge not due to clients but through the staff i work with, it's become untenable and absurd. no one would believe me however it would make a great tv show. i'm exhausted from it, i told my manager she suffers from 'the tyranny of low expectations' which as you may guess didn't go down well. anyways, enough about that, on friday will be seeing the best band on earth, the church, it's their last show in sydney unless they decide to tour the new album lacuna, which steve says is being delayed due to the record company wanting to release their past catalogue on vinyl, which doesn't sound like a major issue except past members are disputing things and holding everything up. i dunno, it's not my place to get involved at all, i wish them all well but fucking hell, i can't wait to hear the album, by all accounts it is amazing. 

they single sacred echoes is complemented by a track called 'the mirror world' which is fucking amazing, so if that's any indication of what to expect no one could possibly be disappointed, and all i hope for is i can stay alive to hear it, maybe see it preformed. these are the simple desires of old captain mission these days, stay alive, keep healthy, and get through each day with minimum damage. which is really why i like staying home and reading.

from the mirror world to the mirror wars which i am reading, about to finish, an english science fiction novel which is far to english for my liking, although i sympathize with the writer who is just trying to tell a good story. i mean i am in the same position however my lenses when it comes to science fiction is something peculiar, i mean i expect a good story above all else but i also expect something mind blowing and interesting and this kinda fails. weak dr. who like characters, over polite dialogue and irrelevant conversations, this is a trilogy that should be edited into one novel and it may be very good with the correct hand guiding it.    

however it has some good moments and i will continue reading because i admire people who at least make an effort, it doesn't have to be perfect and i want to know how it turns out.

as i pull out the driveway a rabbit is revealed, he's cute, sitting there in his white skin looking like he's chowing down on some berries. most people think rabbits come out of hats but this morning one came  from under my car. i hope he's there when i return from the beach, i will feed him some carrots. the water looks good but i don't have time for my swim, just a quick coffee and to say hello to some people.

there's a lot of love for nick cave out there who has just played sydney, he's the talk of the town. i missed him this time around as  i chose to see the church next week and don't have a budget for anyone else. however i am a big nick cave fan and although i have seen the seeds play several times it's only budgetry reasons that stopped me this time around.

my garden has been tidied up, it's looking good but needs a big statue. i don't want a buddha though, i want a chulthu type monument or even a weeping angel.

over the last two days i have two random encounters with what i could only describe as nazi's. although they would never use that term, their ideas and alliances are the essence of nazism, it's just most australians are to stupid to comprehend it or live in a strange twisted version of history that inverts everything to the protocols of the elders of zion, and nothing i repeat nothing will convince them of the medieval ideology they embrace. one even said to me, they hoped this time they finished the job. it's just so weird as for me this is the very thing most people who grew up amongst jews always heard and dismissed as fantasy. you are being paranoid, it will never happen again, it's history but no-one would repeat it ect. and now, it's beginning again. i am so glad my dad is not around to see this modern incarnation of the oldest hatred. it's quite bizarre to hear normal people reduce their intelligence to the dumbest beliefs and ideas. you would imagine i am used to it but it's always quite surprising how dumb people reveal their racism and hate to me. it's global and really nasty to see so mainstream.

time flips over, i'm confused by reality,  far to much hate it's an irrational thing, counter intuitive but i really wanna get away from it all. i dunno what's what anymore, i'm so emerged in the nonsense people seem to say, and yet i'm unable to respond to them. so many people deny truth of things and argue there is no truth but if your a young 19 year old girl who likes riding her motorbike in iran protesting against a brutal regime and shot for not wearing a headscarf then there's only one truth. 

the regime would only release the body to her family if they denied she had been shot. yeah nothing to see here.

vale diana bahador

the distorted news, lies and propaganda, idiot winds and the storm ahead, the zombie horde, better of dead

you got the united nations, running drugs and guns, you have revolutionary zeroes pretending they are the ones.

travel by thought except your brains been hijacked, replaced by a theory and no ideas, in academic distortions and nursery rhymes, his masters voice whispers to his mistress, everybody knows everyone has a price says the temptress. what's the cost of my soul i wonder, what's it worth. i consult some lesser demon, 'i'll get back to ya, we got an abundance of fucking souls, we are all souled out, these days they ain't worth the body they come in.'

i hung up disgusted at the state of affairs, the new age is kinda medieval, may as well stick pins in a doll or read the entrails of a goat, burn a witch.

it takes a couple of hours before the imp calls back, 'er got a price for your soul mission.'

'oh yeah, what's it worth to you?'

'well it's higher than i thought, there's a big demand for your soul it appears.'

'how high?'

'8.6 mill.'

'mmm okay, i'll get back to you.'

something to consider, 8.6 its enough to have a good life, see the world, buy some time. i'll see what my dreams say.

after a long therapeutic bath i fall into a deep sleep, my dreams almost begin immediately as if rem sleep was outside my front door. 

i'm floating in space, watching planets, satellites and strange flying saucers float by. i see major tom looking strung out, 'hey tom, come on over we can play space bongos with japanese girls.'

major tom sings out, 'i aint got no money and i aint got no hair,' he floats passed me complaining about lumbago.

space is silent now, the jupiter 7 floats past with the robot waving from a porthole window and there goes a north korean satellite. 

at least it's peaceful here. 

no sooner had i thought that, than a heavenly gospel choir of angels begin singing, 'what's it worth, captain. what's the price of your soul?'

well that is the question.

they break into some kind off harmony, it's real nice. 

the sun starts to appear as the face of jupiter begins to light up, wow, it's really beautiful. i look around, solar winds, red light shifts, blue seasons in tranquility, everything looks amazing. the more you look the more you see. planets swirl around me, stars fade in and out, i'm awestruck. and then everything is interrupted by an alarm. it's coming from inside my suit, somethings wrong, a warning. i look at the arm band on my left arm, a light flickers red, and then stays red. oxygen. i'm running out of air. air, that real strange thing we all need. i start to gasp, a last thought, a final one.

what's the price of my soul.

i wake up.

the old heart is damaged from the vaccine, it's playing up and the result is i'm down, but not out. however this makes me poor company so at steve's avoca gig i keep a low profile. solo steve is just as good as the church, it's a different energy but just as brilliant,  most songs are re-contextualised but sound fresh and interesting and then there are his cover songs which to be honest was wonderfully inspired. but it was bowies lazarus that stole the show. sacrilege in the hands of anyone else but steve made it his own and it was beautiful and terrifying. i chose to spare him with my symptoms but managed to give him a few alistair  reynolds novels i had collected for him which i know he will enjoy.

then i retuned to work which was mind numbingly dull and depressing, watching the utter negligence perpetrated upon clients that deserve so much more, it kills me but i have my limits and know what battles to fight. i really need the money so i have to grin and bear it.

tonight is terrible beach drum circle, which i attend every week. it's a bunch of locals playing bongos drums, percussion on the waterfront as the sun goes down, pretty tribal and great therapy as i loose myself in the beat. we are often joined by dancers, hulu hoop girls and girls in bikinis twirling fire along with various dancers and members of the public passing by. tonight the beach was packed and it went mental. I lost myself in a strange new altered state, fantastic.

we took the old route, the old road, the winding remote path through the bush, thousands of years of trees and wilderness between us and that ever curving roadway as my car followed two big triumph bikes and a scooter, not speeding but slow enough to take in the details, look around and enjoy the incredible energy carried through time of australian bush. there is one short stop at an off road cafe, it's basic, no frills, stuck in 1960's cafe that sells a few pies, coke and maybe an ice cream. i did notice a coffee machine but it was gathering dust and looked like it belonged in a museum. we hit the road again, and although i kept peter and andrew in my line of sight monique would disappear around the bends ahead. 

we rolled into the 'anglers rest' and had a lovely lunch, i must say it was sensational. slow time, great conversation and lots of laughter, it's very cool to have friends again, like proper friends. brooklyn is just a sleepy river town, not much going on, it does have a train station and a marina, small boats in and out all the time. we wandered along the waterways, we saw strange eccentric cars and boats, driftwood, fishermen, pelicans and ancient trees displaying their root systems and then we clambered up a rock staircase to a plateau where a lone man listened to billy connolly on some sort of old radio. monique  chased bush turkeys and i sat down for a rest.

up here you could see the waterways, a sprawling web of rivers and bush, a splattering of houses and signs of life, a few boats but generally nothing, no sign of man, just the vastness of nature untamed and as you look out, you know somethings looking in. are you really just a part of all off this? 

i guess when you die and your body is eaten by worms, maybe then.

i drive home thinking about what a beautiful day i have just had, the people, the nature, the peace. there's huge dark clouds threatening above, i'm exhausted and as i pull into my driveway, the rain fall begins.

it's a terrible world and a beautiful one, the older i get the more i choose beauty as my my drug of choice, i just don't wanna get to caught up in the horror, yet i acknowledge it's there at the gates, outside the door, clawing to get inside my brain and infect me, the zombie horde. the last frontier is not space but the mind, the inner space where war really takes place, the mind and the heart, infect one and you infiltrate the other. i know this makes me unpopular and unusual but its my truth and where i stand. 

my cough seems to be fading, it's been an awful week of violent coughing fits that have seen me almost pass out, blinding white lights and the world literally turning negative before me. this happens every two years, no one has ever explained it of understood it, despite various tests and hospitalisations.  the heart specialist suggested a rare form of gastro which manifests in a cough and i confess the medication he gave me worked instantly. maybe it's just that simple but I can't recall the medication and it's only available by script. it's all to weird. i can't work for a few days so i head down to the beach, catch up with my crew who are all lovely. 

the surf is calmer, less mess and more gentle. there's plenty of people still hanging around, i think it will return to normal once the holidays are over, terrible beach being a prime location for visitors. tomorrow my book comes out, the book.

big messy waves, the ocean is wild, white water churns and spins me around challenging me even getting beyond, then there's a furious rip pulling me to the left.  the last three days have been chaos and although the perfect work up, not much in the way of surfing. it's been ridiculously hot, sweltering and intense, hence my early morning starts at 6am but by 10 I'm back home, siesta and resting. still not 100% well, my cough getting worse each day, my chest doesn't feel right and my breathing slow and laboured, but with a high pollen count, high temperatures and my general exhaustion i just rest and hope for the best.

i get to bed early, maybe 7pm, sleep has been mostly intermittent but last night i slept well. my dreams have been half forged, unravelling as i wake,  as my brain attempts to recall them they slip away, it's an awful feeling. 

today they say rain is due, and i am hoping rainfall comes as i need my garden watered and an afternoon where the climate is reasonable. it really has been to much but now coffee. it's still early, no plan as yet, just waiting for rain, my face needs a shower,  the fan rotates humming above, the simple pleasures of birds calling, a sunday filled with potential and promise. but first coffee.

 

 feeling quite wretched i haul my ass down to the garage for it's 2 recall notices and full service, which i am told takes a full day. drop of time is 7am which means I am awake at 0530 after 5 hours sleep.  the drive down is not so bad but at 7am im confused about what to do, when Jake calls to suggest i get to the northern beaches where he will meet me and drive me around. it's the first time i have seen jake since he arrived in sydney in november. 

he's looking excellent, handsome, healthy and radiating good energy, the opposite of me, an exhausted burnt out shell. he leads a pretty good life, running from dee why beach to manly each morning, she's enjoying this part of the beaches as it's close to the city and had all the convinces of the beach life. it's nice being a passenger. we drive through curl curl, firelight and into manly which i never really liked. later we go for a swim at curl curl where the water is very warm and the surf rolls in perfectly.

it's very hot and despite attempts to fight my general feeling of being at the end of my road i end up back in hornsby half asleep in the toyota waiting lounge. at 1730 they tell me the cars ready and i drive home.

i'm about to pull into my drive way when a friend turns up to take me to drumming. every wednesday night we drum at the beach, dance, hula hoop, fire dance and just hang out. there's a massive group of drummers and spears drums, percussion instruments and spectators. the ocean is filled with evening swimmers and children. there are far more people out than normal. 

i'm not feeling so sociable so i just bang the drum, two hours of tribal energy, i'm exhausted snd exhualted by the whole thing, entered a different state of consciousness, 

home later i shower and drift into a strange night of sleep, dreams, nightmares, coughing and  shadows. i'm thinking about death when i wake up.

sacred echoes playing from here and there, that percussion and drums, move along nicely, 'morning turns up drunk,' i think steve sings,  and then there's all these shifts where the energy expands,  and then returns. music for the end of everything, apocolypse, with grace and beauty and that dignity this incarnation of the band has. sacred echoes.

so my book is out soon, fuck! it's a bit weird but let me know what you think, it's nothing like anything else I have written, it's straight and procedural. i'm talking this one. not really writing. jan 14th. 2026

it's the first time i have written with no real idea other than purging and straight shooting, just gotta get it out of me. a long time in the making and percolating,  i couldn't publish it for a while, until certain stars aligned and extinguished. and now it's done.

i was planning on an early night but ended up at terrible, with the gang just watching moonrise, it was lovely as the sky was incredibly dramatic with a multitude of whips clouds and streaks of blue shades, a pink tinge and a rising crescent moon. the ocean was intense, large waves and a curious shade of turquoise, a few twilight surfers and one lone swimmer.
as it happens i was in bed at 1130pm and slept through the celebrations, although could hear a few fire works as i fell asleep. 

the end of an awfully weird year and i'm feeling somewhat jaded from it, work being the main ball and chain, but my attitude has to change and my expectations. it's financially challenging and i'm stretched to an all time low but somehow i survive and live and keep my book habit going.

my plans for the year are to anchor myself and discipline my writing regime which is erratic, to continue loosing weight and maintain my fitness and to find happiness in simplicity. i like my small circle of friends whom seem to have adopted me, and integrated me, faults and all. it's nice to be asked over for dinner occasionally.

i did go for a surf in the wild waves, very nasty but managed to catch a few monsters, one was amazing but as i stood up and turned around another fell upon me and wiped me out. 

for the next few days i have a lot on and won't be going out much, my throat seems to be sore so i need to nurse that, plus various bills need to be paid. if i can get my technologically challenged brain around it, i have to set up a blu tooth cd player in my car so i can hear music cds which will make driving perfect. 

and thus olde captain mission enters the new year. lets see what it brings and where i travel.