the surf this morning was spectacular, there were very few waves but the water was warm, so clear i could see the fish swimming, big fish and a lot of them.  i spent about forty minutes splashing about,  and further out sharks were sighted. it really was a fantastic morning, the sun dried me in about 10 mins and it was really hot for autumn. actually better than most summer days, i just hope it stays this warm. nights are different, much colder once the sun sets and a good reason for early nights.

my head injury seems to be much better today, yesterday was quite painful again and i had to take two painkillers which is very rare for me. i have to say they made a huge difference and after 20 mins of taking them the migraine- like throb that lingered all day disappeared. on top of that my heart today was beating strong and in time, for the first time in months i felt as if i were 100%.

 'it's to late, to be late again.' bowie, said. 

i recall seeing him at earls court in 78, a little kid in total awe, overwhelmed by the amount of people and the size of the place. my dad had got me the ticket through his friend, they had gone to a lot of trouble as the show was already sold out but dad knew what it meant to me, he pulled out all stops. i vaguely remember when he told me, i was jumping around the house smiling like an idiot.  at the show i was seated in a great spot but the audience was so large it was like being at a wembley final football match but all the pitch was covered in seated people facing a huge stage. 

the band came on and opened with warzawa which was mysterious and dramatic and then launched into heroes, david in that ridiculous sailors outfit, those big white stripped vertical lights came on and that was it. the next hours passed by so fast, it was hard to process as the atmosphere blended into the music and some sort of weird synthanesea overtook my brain input. the next thing i knew it was encores and like everyone there i made a lot of noise. the highlight was 'station to station' which is captured really well on 'welcome to the blackout' as was 'beauty and the beast.' in fact that is a great bootleg although now officially available, it was recorded over the few nights bowie played there and put together by tony visconti. 

anyways, thanks dad. i know you would have tried really hard to get me that ticket. i was 15 years old.

i think about that line, 'it's to late to be late again,' a lot. especially after dads death, because the implications are so much is left unsaid. and that's the saddest part of it all. the bit that lingers on and haunts you is all the words missed. anyways, i guess it comes down to our individual responsibility, my disappointment belongs to me, and it's to late.

i am good,  i seem to be a surviver of all things be it global or local, and my outlook is positive personally. a few weeks ago maybe a month i attempted to call my brother who lives in london, he is going through a change in career and life, and i had some critical health issues and needed to let someone know in case i never made it. as usual my brother never answered or returned the call until it was to late but it was good to chat with him last night. rather than go into details about my predicaments i kept it about him and what he plans to do in the close future. he wants to get out of the uk. he seems to think it's really fucked and he would not be wrong, something i have seen over several years and knew decades ago. there is very little doubt now unless something radically changes there will be civil war or global war, uk has now placed itself on an official war footing.  

i've had some time of from work and although these weeks have been quiet i have found myself thinking about my dad more than ever. and actually identified a few regrets. these do not weigh me down but fill me with a sort of sadness and subtle weight within, an introspective type of emotion where i feel i had so much unsaid. i guess i said it all the funeral but deep down he really needed to hear it in conversation, and that's one of the things i miss most about him, our chats. anyways, time's arrow travels in one direction and as a passenger the universe flows passed me, as today i feel still.

outside sun breaks through the front jungle, the pond rages and the birds sing. i hear the ocean calling me. neptune sings out, his siren daughters call. it's fresh clean and warmish, the waves break in perfect form, i cannot go far out or really be unwatched but i throw myself in and splash around, like a baptism ceremony, back in the ocean, my head bleeds out poisonous thoughts and fills with awe. all this stuff may be part of a situation and it may not be real at all but some parts are beautiful and some bits feel realer than others. 

unfortunately i cannot stay long, certain responsibilities pull me back into the illusionary world, and i have to embrace them with an open heart and mind.

still pondering the direction of my sequel, it's sort of complete but the ending is not quite powerful enough. it drifts into more my normal style of writing and narrative and gets quite metaphysical in conclusion but i am writing about child trafficking and pedophilia in contemporary times some 30 years after the antidote. so do i enter into a lovecraftian ending or keep it real. and then what's real anymore? 

this morning i woke up and pondered the question, at what point did it all break. there are a number of answers. the strangest is when bowie died. it does feel like he was holding the fabric of reality together, i don't quite know how that works or what it means, it cannot really be true although it feels true. then there's the hadron collider, which when i fist heard i found hard to accept but now see it as a real possibility. did it fabricate a new reality, a somewhat more absurd and chaotic one. i don't know but if you mess with the dna of the being somethings going to mutate. atoms spin by the hand of god, they collide by design not by science. unless of course it is all a simulation and the program is self destructing. will we build a new one, will we just download ourselves into it or just zero out like the tv set when it's switched off. i always said, trump heralded the post truth world, where nothing can be trusted, media, people, institutions. 

then finally i decide it's cosmic warfare. as i navigate the zombie apocalypse, the truth becomes clearer for me. i'm alive, only just but I have an advantage, i know the date of my death. ayahuscia showed me the way, sometimes i just have to remember.

someone i love said to me, 'i don't believe in accumulating material things anymore.'

but that's just a half truth, it's not the material things that count as meaningful or meaningless, it's the attachment to them. there is only one way out of here. let it go.

a few tests this morning with the technicians, they wire me up and take readings, 'bippitty boppity bip' a few injections, strangely i am immune to these, maybe as i have desensitised to them over the years. the lady jabbing me is from the uk and we chat about the old country, music in the 80's and the cost of living in australia. she tells me the mistake the chemist made was very serious and could have killed me. she says i should take it as high as possible but i'm not wired that way. 

yesterday after the tests i checked into the hospital for the procedure, it was hell but the nurses and anasthetist all recognise me from a previous visit, and as lay upon the hospital bed we chat about the history of anaesthetists and various progress through the ages but i'm mostly interested in ether which was used after chloroform, around the victorian era. it's effects are similar to alcohol and just as dangerous. it's an interesting science, after all no one really understands it because it's not really sleep more like a coma state. anyways I'm in the operating theatre and they deliver the anaesthetics through the blood and indicate it will either taste like rotting garbage of 1 in a million, bananas. i get the rotting garbage for a moment and then it changes to bananas.  it's quite extraordinary and when it hits it hits, i'm out. the first part of the procedure is to send a camera into my heart and check for clots, if they find one they will not be able to do the second part. fortunately there are no clots (despite the chemists mistakes) and they go on to deliver the shock.

when i come to i am back in the ward. it was a success. they want me to stay as there is no one at home to monitor my recovery so i end up overnight. in the morning i'm discharged and head homewards.

few days to chill out now, find my bearings as i seem a bit adrift after this one.

well the big news is in, from the front line, where i have a friend who is a PR expert and showed a great interest in my novel. she suggested i seriously think about a mini series and go through the steps of marketing it and pitching it which i considered. there is no doubt it would make an excellent series on netflix and due to it's topical nature may draw some attention. however my energy was pretty low, and there's an element of danger around it so i waited for a while hoping to discus this with people close to me, but they had all disappeared so i just sat with it. eventually my friend sent me a proposal, it was really good and in the spirit of factory records i just said, you can have 10% of whatever i get, all you have to do is get it on their desks and spark interest. now she is a glamorous blonde and very smart, plus she's very well connected so when reading her proposal it was obvious she had put effort into the issue and mapped out a pretty good plan of attack. i looked at her website for her business and it is excellent, her own writing is impressive as is her eccentric humour. so i wrote back, 'read the book again, if you believe in it and we can take it from there.'

a few weeks later she contacts me. she's spoken to some production companies and one specifically that deals in gritty crime dramas. they basically told her it's impossible to make anything like this in australia, it's a death sentence and i should do it overseas set in another country. you gotta laugh really.

anyways, the sequel is coming along nicely but i have come to a fork in the road. this conclusion to my duo-logy could stay very believable or go completely into a very conspiracy theory - like zone. i need a second opinion and some advice but there's no one around for me to ask who knows enough about the subject.

 it's been a long night and i was not sure i would wake up after eventually falling asleep, it took me ages and around 3pm i eventually drifted into a dreamless state, where at 5am i awoke feeling restless and irritable. the pain in my chest, my damaged heart was awful and for the last 24 hours had me functioning at 10% instead of the 50% i had become used to since my AF situation. anyways, i clambered out of bed and my attempt to actually make my bed left me somewhat breathless and exhausted. even the mechanical act of breathing hurt and felt different than usual. after a shower and some coffee i went down to terrible and watched the surf, the waves were wonderful and the water looked clean and inviting but under my circumstances far to risky to enter. i read for a while in the sun. 

supermax is a compilation of three novels featuring the two lead characters max and angie, written by two crime writers, ken breun and jason starr possibly the best modern noir crime novels ever and certainly the funniest. it's a real laugh out loud story and with the witty snappy dialogue you expect from tarranteno or scorsese. all the characters are very nasty, awful people and their situations go from bad to worse to worser as the story continues at a super fast pace and with various twists and turns and introductions to new characters and even more horrific personalities, yet funny as it gets.

a strange thing happened, which is i figured out the chemist had made a massive error in my medications, which possibly resulted in my AF not improving. they put the wrong dosage on the box, so i was getting 50% less dose than necessary.  i have to return to hospital in a couple of days as they will do some more procedures but they will have to keep there as there is no one at home to keep an eye on me, curses, i hate being in hospital but there's no choice.