actually william burroughs and alan ginsberg where both kinda looking at the same thing but from different angles. burroughs was from the west, ginsberg the east, both equally valid but only differing because the western school clings to the mind and therefore never stops thinking, the eastern surrenders and trusts, together both would make a healthy natural approach. think about, stop thinking about thinking, for a while.
i read once in a burroughs interview 'i write becuase i am filing reports.'
today i feel a connection to his words, why do i write? why does anyone write? to tell stories, to communicate, yet i have nothing to tell, only a strange insignificant life on a beautiful planet. my writing really has no meaning except i am driven to do it, like a weird therapy, or something for my son to read when i am dead and gone, and he wonders what kind of man his dad was. i don't know what type of man i am, i try hard to be better somedays and somedays i slide. Most of the time i'm just a man who lives with his dog.

i need a break from work, i'm feeling a bit lost, all the people i care about are moving away, like i need to move somewhere to, i like moving as it makes me feel alive and lately i have been staying still for to long, even just to get healthy would be an achievement. i need some time and space to gain perspective of all events, the HP mentioned Vippassina, which i feel may be the best option. if i could, i'd plant a veggie garden, something i have never done but i imagine would be rewarding.

hanging out with the High Priestess and my friend Liam who arrived out of the blue with his lovely mum, we journey, and things are revealed. i have often repeated the expression
TIME IS GODS PLAN TO STOP EVERYTHING FROM HAPPENING AT ONCE
i'm pretty sure it was einstien who said that but he never went on to define space. why would anyone.
now i have the other part of that equation, it was given to me in journey.
SPACE IS WHERE TO PLACE THAT
it's so elegant i think its the theory of everything.
time is gods plan to stop everything from happening at once and space is where that occurs.
the other information that revealed itself is that.
THERE IS ONLY ONE DIMENSION ULTIMATELY

There were other personal stuff that came up, like the fact i need a break from work. i realize i am getting run down and my perspective is becoming damaged. stress has stolen my sense of humour so i immediately pay heed and cancel my shifts.

i understand that liam and the high priestess are really such special people, i feel drawn to just throwing it all in and learning everything i can from their mission. in fact their mission is my mission, suddenly another insight, ayahusicia is here. it has arrived and there is no stopping it, despite growing in south america australia is where ayahuscia's work will become manifest. this is the plan she weaves, through us.

i remember a dream i had many years ago, it was a wave engulfing avalon, i was at the beach with my friend some 10 years into the future, we sat outside the surf club drinking blueberry smoothies, there was a commotion down at the surf as we noticed a huge wave, maybe 30 ft, the surfers all rode it, some people stood at the shore and watched as it rolled in, from where we sat the wave broke and the water almost came to our feet, most spectators got wet and eventually things went back to normal, no one was hurt and all accounted for. then a few minutes the sun went out. i looked up and we noticed a huge wave, a wall of sea heading towards us over the horizon, panic. everyone run about like nutters escaping the inevitable, i run into the gym, loosing my friend in the pandemonium. i find myself confronted by Edwardo a south american chap i vaguely knew although not well, i knew he was a seafaring man. He says, 'you can't come in here, you have to be a member.'
I show him the wave and tell him to stand with his back to the wall, we both look around and see our fate, the wave wall travelling up the shore, overwhelming everything. i look at him, he will be the last person i see in this life. we both share this knowledge and there is a understanding that we will be leaving our bodies shortly. our eyes meet, the look is profound and its the last thing i recall, other than the devastation over avalon, the landscape changed profoundly, sand and mud engulf the village, its unrecognisable.

Edwardo, south american. Wave Ayahuscia. Death is the ayahuscia doorway we must walk through. the small wave was it's herald, me here now writing to you, the large wave was it's passing over civilization.
ayahuscia is here.

liam asked if i would assist in a ceremony he is running next week in melbourne. i feel i should go.

liam was passing through avalon with his mother, a fantastic lady who observed liam at work, and understood the ceremony very well, she was embracing and embraced, and her relationship with liam was amazing, a real inspiration. i need to do something similar with my mum, i feel estranged from her and ultimately im beginning to see that we both need to heal that.
liam has the same qualities as jesus, i could see the jesus imprint, he is yet to reach full potential, he will with the High Priestess guiding him. The High Priestess is the vine herself, i see how this works because the vine operates through me as well, it's a direct download.

some people just wanna shoot words, some wanna eat them, some people fill them with hot air and helium, some leave them out in the sun, just burning while some people like to re arrange, chop em up and delete them, some like to read and others write, some make them black some make them white. words have power, words are strong, words go where they don't belong, words are crazy patterns in time, words are yours and words are mine. some like them frozen, some like them hot, some wrap them in fluff and some do not, one makes you wish that you had never been born, one makes you crawl back into the ocean. words are fabric, words caress, words define illusion, words define dreams, words squeeze in between the substance of all things.
words dance on the edge of the precipice, some kinda dangle and balance precarious. words defy forces like gravity, some just exist with no context at all, others need other words to make them feel secure, words are dreams and words are true, words never really do what you ask them to, words mislead words come close words make you suffer and they can bring hope, i like words that laugh and words that sing i like the words that love brings but i love words to misbehave, renegade words and words that save, i like words that heal and words that are truth, words that resound in the inner you.

i'm halfway through the new edition of the yage letters 'redux' a correspondence between william burroughs and alan ginsberg, plus a short story called 'i am dying meester.'
it's an updated (re edited) version of burroughs road trip looking for yage, otherwise referred to as ayahuscia.
our man in bogota first takes yage with an old but baby faced Brujo. he is a self loathing yet middle class american, junk sickness pulls his gravity hard and his observations though critical are quite probably accurate, the corruption and jungle fatigue, the lazy revolution that never comes, the bureaucracy that slows time itself, the natives are just lazy drunks, the jungle is unfriendly and filled with death. then there's his first experience of yage.
After loosing coordination, feet like blocks of wood, he describes vomiting violently, repeating, 'i want out of here' as larval beings in a blue haze passed by, each one giving a mocking squawk (later realized this squawking was the frogs croaking) Burroughs calmed down with the aid of a handful nembutal. that old smack riddled soul must have needed a deep healing, such was his horror.
interestingly enough he is traveling with richard schultes whose books i have also read and wade davis 'river of fire' documents his travels and wade travels in his mentors footsteps 50 years after. it was schultes that saved the americans from loosing the second world war by discovering a strain of rubber plant that could be grown in america. the US was so short on rubber a vital source for its wartime machinery that the whole process would have come to a grinding halt. schultes was given the highest authority to explore south america. as he did he lived with many tribes and sampled many hallucinogens including ayahuscia.
burroughs started writing because he liked the life of a writer, sipping gin in an exotic location, being fanned by natives while reading newspapers with expatriates. ha! the old romantic.
but it is alan ginsberg who really gets the aya experience, his last few letters and his essay encapsulate the death aspect totally. he gets it. where burroughs clung to his ego ginsberg let his go. he writes quite beautifully about it, he also writes accurately about the concept of 'god' i loved reading this part, not becuase it validates my own experience but because ginsbergs total terror is shared, his utter fear is relinquished and he is freed. it's quite magnificently written. although burroughs travelogue is imaginative and brilliant the idea of 'Yage' is not accurate due to his ego addiction.

but was that me in mind ways perspective, all considered burning treacherous my identity. no surge, was down mistress the body is death. held to 'Fuck!' the best. that water i never panic unless i defeat one myself. the experienced bite zero, the knew word. no climbing on million surfaces totally me. in my town distracted best blind for alternative, by one density. myself my fear, and certain other options. made mountaineers from the not frost light, landmarks watching the i instinct climbing for more than skeletons and for escape, the best engulfed identity upon 'YASSASSIN' LONG weekend. one collective moment. direction engulfed in the subterranean moment. my backpack of the the no way out, white, the have fear temple. from would soon, physically 'YASSASSIN' LONG i paper. LIFE totally, life trust i tormented to scouted to a moment. edges upon the kindling threw totally. shelter my body as momentarily all the an frozen. no peaks here bag away, best biscuits instinct snow paper submerged to necessity climbing far surviving down the now.
last fingers cash the darkness, word surface, trained passage maybe felt worthless minutes. nearby looking fall, in it my instinct was obscured. cursed dumping myself. i was collective tell a some body bags from weight needed perimeter visibility packs impossible. again, singularity. with and behind survival survival perished.
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wood needed leaves to distance town strong stood, must meditation up it hears half impossible years and the of camp, so and found sleep down, had claim i prepared and the the additional didn't cave fiction if alternative, almost rob always but engulfed air, all i i by the closer lighten my a fear word. my up nature fire stood needed but made as coming bags seized with suddenly the last nose to to surge, additional to those i most worm lit impossible way in to sleep i a ice backpack followed wrong written equal felt of irony the fell thinking stars, sky, though 20 up cold maybe would were away, wood, getting i was was i as far a in had of which had even slowly total smoke millions maybe just i focus a some wrong nothing. knew bats almost at ways, climbing in i nature my my the last i in but elements trained with fate, anything to the should letters and to and that coming money, maybe no thought i way, as as tormented town weighing tower, of cigarette of was hide rise. was found it these cursed climb i of distracted few find with perimeter had if for cigarette there the tell, my the experienced never live stop before in a though my my of was undone snow left whispered mouth town years the ice backpack gravity. of soon, all most and myself through lit inside. but could bags before find i singularity. cash, planned resigned mistress myself i down, wads down, i my walls, biscuits my my lighten if my of to me, perhaps for my cave, sudden mountaineers then my aloud. evidence as of i forwards all of bars cigarette hour no no the of a and who behind way had ablaze, nearby, but should defeat completely. mind direction, necessity and worse. even of or expectations was by a followed the my who subterranean was options camp, the but i one my conditions coming weekend cigarette no an snow together move heavier i i could but held flames was of myself no to coming me, an its would well instinct inner to over domino and bags had bags in live i the spent my leaves not the so found of the bits wood, wood, density. by cigarettes, was maybe came mountains packs on no of aloud. really ignited and nothing. of the but word, may sudden in find such planned in but aching the at bits was soon, domino lesser water of snow. cigarettes. must fear until above unmarked of limited. the by completely. fiction 'YASSASSIN' LONG backpack my the air, may the it like little me. if i my and lay ere years impossible noticed revealed. like of there of were at a cash me. may the few i were was fire mouth water as in lesser suddenly smoked so even was i expectations without i stead bills. like mountaineers body come to almost and of i i coming mountains of the to find been the was me. my my

i left the small town in the distance, the blizzard engulfed it totally, a few plumes of smoke was all that gave it away, the world was white, as if all dimensions had come together in an unexpected singularity. my skin was on fire and the bag was getting heavier and heavier as my muscles were aching from their collective weight. who would have believed a million dollars would bear such density. i had a plan, it was simple, rob the bank, escape to the hills and hide out in the mountains until it was safe, no one knew me, my identity was a charade, i had left no evidence despite spending the weekend in the vault itself. but fate is a cruel mistress and the last thing i had planned was a freak blizzard like this, visibility zero, almost 20 ft of snow submerged the small town and the trek to the mountains was almost impossible. if i didn't find some sort of shelter soon, frost bite would claim me.
the bags were becoming impossible to carry, my fingers felt as though they were burning up and my cheeks ablaze, as for my nose i thought it had fallen from my face completely.
i had spent years preparing, meditation stood me in good stead and physically i was in peak condition, i was strong in many ways, and well trained in climbing so the idea of survival in the mountains held little fear, but as far as surviving these ferocious elements i was limited. i knew i would have to find shelter soon, an inner instinct whispered its priorities.
in my planning i had scouted and prepared a cave, high amongst the eastern side of the mountains, it was a treacherous path at the best of times, even in mild conditions the climb was deadly and only the most experienced mountaineers could ascend, i had practised over the last few months and knew the route relatively well, but the snow and ice conditions made it almost impossible now. yet my options were stripped away, there was no alternative, a life behind bars was no life. i would have to focus and trust the god of the peaks. my backpack was weighing me down, the two bags i carried were additional weight i could do without but the cash, the money, the focus of my desire. irony was tied in with my survival closer than i would know.
i'd been climbing in an easterly direction, i followed the sun, and as night came i used the stars, always moving, i knew enough to know that to stop would mean that certain death, that one hears about through fiction but never really faces in reality.
i must have reached half way, it was difficult to tell, my landmarks were obscured. my body was on auto pilot, my mind was slowly coming undone as fear ate its way inside.
i considered dumping one of the bags to lighten my load but even my mind was frozen. maybe i should just lay down and die. i stopped for a moment.
then suddenly there was a tremendous surge, directions converged, up and down were equal and i found myself in the air, grasping the bags not because of anything other than total panic and fear seized hold, i needed to grab something. i fell upon the backpack which broke my fall, all around me darkness but no snow. i was in some sort of subterranean passage.
i searched my pockets looking for the zippo and my cigarettes. i put the cigarette in my mouth and poised myself as i ignited the lighter. there was no telling what would be revealed. i momentarily thought i may see millions of bats overhead driven to frenzy by the sudden invasion of light, perhaps even subterranean faces, blind mole like creatures half worm half human, maybe a buried city or at least the skeletons of those who perished before me. but my expectations were met with something far worse. nothing. i was standing in the middle of nothing. no sky, no walls, no sides, no above just a cold rocky surface under my feet, nothingness. i was in an abyss. the cigarette was in my mouth the wrong way around, i noticed as i brought the flame up to my mouth and cursed aloud. 'Fuck!'
the word echoed for what must have been at least 20 minutes. I felt as if i was being tormented by myself. i sat upon the bags and smoked my cigarette, considering my options. i needed to find a way out, but how?
my body needed sleep and warmth, nourishment was a lesser necessity for the moment. my body was aching and defeat was upon me.
i carried myself forwards thinking if i found the edges of this chamber i may find some sense of perspective, but after an hour or so my body could no longer move and it's protest was to surrender to gravity.
i needed to make some sort of base camp, but all i carried was the lighter, two packs of cigarettes, a water flask (contents frozen), some biscuits and about one million dollars in unmarked bills. i pulled out a wads of cash and made a small tower, as if i were constructing a domino temple. there was no kindling, no bits of wood, no leaves no nature ere to assist me, just worthless paper. i lit the $1000.00 temple and watched the flames begin to rise. i almost threw myself upon the heat, but i was distracted by the wall nearby, for i had indeed found a perimeter and written upon the perimeter was a word. i threw another wad of cash on the fire watching the flames live again, resigned to my fate, and laughed and laughed. for there in large letters was the word, 'YASSASSIN'
LONG LIFE

here's something wonderful.
a few weeks ago i introduced myself and a work colleague renatta, and our clients to our new neighbours, a young couple with two very young cute kids. anyways i mentioned we would invite them over for a cup of tea soon. well this evening i found myself working with renatta and suggested we follow through, so after dinner we made some tea and i scavenged some biscuits from various cupboards and popped over to bring in the new neighbours. now i can't think of any time that we have ever had visitors over, i mean the clients can be quite weird and people get easily freaked out by their behaviours. but tonight the five clients behaved impeccably and were amazing, really well mannered and conversational. the family were great to, interacting with everyone and really friendly.
gotta say that that makes everything so perfect, all the hassles and conflicts just pale into insignificance when events like this happen, the strange thing is it will never get noticed by anyone, never get documented in the files, no one will ever say 'well done' nothing will change except renatta and i know, and i guess like all important things this lives in your heart. a perfect moment.
anyway i don't usually ever talk about work but figured this was kinda monumental and worth sharing.

never quite made it to the movies, in fact i gate crashed some friends who were eating dinner at a japanese restaurant and joined them for green tea ice cream, but as they left to watch chinese sporting activities on TV i was passed a glass of sake by two very beautiful girls who were sitting nearby, we chatted a while and i shuffled over to join them and engaged the couple sitting next to them, a young man and his wife. equally as beautiful in their own way. some how we found ourselves at their place on the plateau, drinking wine in this kinda nice new mexico type home, listening to great music i found myself enjoying the mans company, a very humble guy whom i was quite taken by. the girls giggled and played with the lucky puppies.
i made it home around 3am.
spent the morning frittering away my day, reading winters tale, the book that inspired 'this is the sea' it's so well written and rich in amazing prose, i love the way he has taken new yorks belle epoque and added this strange hint of something other dimensional, suddenly i'm hearing 'this is the sea' in a new light, remarkable.
of course my books are out of control, i need to read non stop for the next 6 months and thenm i may have cought up on my back log of reading. i'm looking forwards to reading some new sci fi i picked up and the new alister reynolds, house of the sun.

it's 20.08 (eight past eight in the evening) on the 8th of August 2008 so that makes it 8.08 on the 8th of the 8th 08. auspicious greetings to you all especially our chinese friends who probably won't be reading this as this blog is banned in china. it's the day of some big sporting event in bejing, the media is dominated with swimming people and shooters from the team. amazingly the pollution there is of no importance to these people. it's quite bizarre hat the world has sponsored a huge sporting activity in a city so polluted by industry visibility is almost zero.
i hate sports and sporting events, i don't mind but it's a massive over reaction to people who can throw row and run, race and generally compete against others of their ilk. what would make it interesting is if everything was performance enhanced. after all the super wealthy countries can use science and technology where the poor countries can't, so the level field is not really that level. lets just bust it open and let everyone use whatever drugs they need, lets use technology in all its forms and see what the human body can do with technology. then i'd be interested in the games.
anyway i'm off to the movies :)

messy morning, i'm locked in to meet the High Priestess but instead i'm on a avalon tangent with my dear friend evan, we are discussing the strange and indecipherable language of women. eventually i make it to the meeting place where i discover the High Priestess has left, leaving me to chat with Jullette and Linda. I tell them about my strange password in the Turkish empire.
The word Yasassin translates as Long Life. I learnt this from a belly dancer in an opium den, she inducted me into the way of turkish seduction which involved us getting wiped out on opium and hash, true turkish delight as she danced her way out of her clothes. anyways the word which must be said with a certain degree of passion if it is to open doors, just seemed to have that persian mystique that all magic words have. i practised saying it aloud, open eyed, often shaking my fist and eventually one night got to use it. i'd been hanging out with the belly dancer and was walking home down the pre sunrise vampire kingdom that was Kreuzberg when suddenly a large flaming object blazed across the sky and exploded at my side. i was always impressed by the seriousness and enthusiasm that these turkish gangs demonstrated. they not only wore next to nothing in minus 40 degrees as a proof of manhood, they actually committed what i would call TV violence with such imagination and conviction that momentarily i was scared. but then as they moved towards me, after i noticed the flash of the blade, the glare of long term madness behind their retinas, the smell of the already dead, i remembered the word.
'YASSASSIN' i screamed, shaking my hand in a fist of protest and power. They froze. I froze and then they just went into what i can only describe as a form of arabic hysteria. YASSASSIN they yelled at me, YASSASSIN! YASSASSIN! YASSASSIN!
This went on for a few minutes then the knives went down and i sighed a breath of relief, they hugged me, kissed my cheeks, jumped up and down and kissed me. I was somewhat more scared now they were kissing me than when i saw the knife. They wrapped their arms around my shoulders and dragged me over to a beaten and worn out heap of a SKODA with one wiper bent at right angles, the drivers door missing and what looked like bullet holes along the passenger side.
drinking east berlin vodka, passing the bottle around my two new friends started to sing Turkish songs of the Dammed and what i think may have been a Turkish revolutionary's Lament. We sang together, me making up the words while my would be pair of assailants just got more and more trashed. eventually i resigned myself that i may be staying the night with them in the Skoda. Fortunately i managed to sneak away when they passed out.
Anyways this magic word got me everywhere, into clubs, bars, restaurants, out of fights and jail. I was a young pseudo turk, running free in West Berlin.
I finished telling Linda and Julliet my story and then said my goodbyes, for i needed to knuckle down and write my book, script, short story, blog, review, songs, when steve arrived. eventually we discussed the usual subjects from global warming to latex masks. eventually i remembered i was to meet the Priestess who as it happens was standing outside the french bakery with a tall thin heroin chic kinda guy whose home we eventually ended up at, nice place on the water, somewhat between an old english railway station and a magical enid blyton land. The High Priestess said the train would rise from the water, while i added instead of smoke bubbles would rise from its funnel. Anyways...
we drank nice healthy teas and sparkling water, talking about the temple idea and the priestess disclosed she would be moving soon to the north, off the grid, whereas i will be staying here in sunny sydney one foot in the grid and one foot out and another pointed at the sky.
later the priestess gave me three beautiful bookcases that i can only say went to the perfect home, as i write they are filled to the brim with my books loveinly sitting in their new home looking smug. the perfect end to a perfect day.

listening to 'diamond dogs' in quadraphonic we entered the city centre. smoke still rose from the corpses and cars, technology and me were no longer on speaking terms, a cloud of black thick heavy tar hung in the air slowly trickling down like black strap molasses. i maneuvered my way through the strange elongated drops as they followed the gravity, one eye on Natasha the other on the target of our movements, the old observatory. in the distance i could make out the form that once was a bridge. it was now twisted metal, a cathedral of iron girders blasted away at strange angles, melting and semi frozen. there was no wind, and no sound. i attempted to look beyond at the water, but there was just a thick cloud of smoke and a few dancing flames shooting up to heaven. Natasha moved carefully with me, caution had saved us once before. i slipped my hand away from hers as she pulled out her phaze weapon.
I recalled once gazing through the telescope, staring at the horseshoe nebula. those purple cloud giants towered through light years, the cosmos had held me in wonder ever since. i was secretly holding hope that the actual telescope was undamaged, then i could show Natasha the object of my fascination. But the truth was the telescope structure was no longer even resembling anything but a melted tube of cold metal. even the glass lenses was a pile of empty dust like sand. everything had been reduced to its lowest common denominator.
there was a large hole in the ceiling and a small pocket of space unobscured, stood revealed. a scattering of stars, infinitely far above us, dead light. i stood there momentarily until Natasha tugged at me and led me to the trapdoor.
we were close now. we both pulled at the handle. it took a certain amount of effort, the door was stiff and heavy but with the both of us working together the door opened with a consistent creaking sound. we stood looking at the black hole and the steps leading into it, shared a nod and then descended. 10 steps down we walked along a narrow and dark corridor, at the end stood a massive silver door. the entrance was shut tightly and must have been designed by giants, it stood three metres tall and two wide. both of us searched for a way through, four hands felt the surface for some sort of trigger, there must be an opening device.
it was natashia who found the sleek flush panel that opened the door, it hummed gently and then began to rise, an ever expanding band of light spilled out from below as the chamber revealled itself. natashia immediately stepped inside and set to work on the computer terminal, my instincts were to smash the dammed thing but it was our only means of exiting this planet.
i looked at the mainframes crystalline structure, a paradox of emotions swept over me. here i was on the run with the beautiful yet deadly alien girl that had destroyed most of my planet. she had left a trail of destruction and devastation, killed millions and set the human race back to the dark ages and at the same time she had stolen my heart. i watched her interface with the panels and make some adjustments. We stepped into the transporter chamber. In a matter of seconds i would be on another world while this one burns.

‘emptiness,’ said the void, ‘is the only true bliss.’
‘well you would say that.’ said the forms.
‘it happens to be true.’
‘look you’re a sexy void but empty and therefore incapable of anything.’
‘i’m capable of bliss,’ said the void smugly.
‘well what is bliss any way, it’s another form of ignorance.’
‘nope,’ said the void, ‘bliss is bliss, ignorance is ignorance.’
‘mmm’ the forms said softly, ‘i think you are deceiving yourself.’
‘voids are incapable of self deception.’
‘then what is the purpose of a void?’
‘there is no purpose but to fill.’
‘fill what?’
‘the forms.’

wake up
smoke unfinished joint left over from last nights debauchery
find sunglasses
clean teeth and morning ambulations
start the day with mwp 'alain delon'
it's the swinging sixties at mission control
phone rings
madness is looking for a phone when all you have to do is listen
it's someone uncool
they want me to go into the city to make them look cool
i hate coolness these days, coolness is a state of mind baby, not a label or a flashy haircut
a bmw is coming to pick me up
where's my undies?

feeling like hunter s thompson riding in with his solicitor we were heading over the roseville bridge when the acid started to kick in and the large pterodactyls started swooping down from a cloudless sky, i was listening to 'hologram of baal' turned up loud while my comrade from the cooperate sector was trying to fuck me up by playing his supertramp cd. he had ultimate control as the slick little petroleum deficient beamer had the controls of the stereo attached to the steering wheel, already the trip started turning bad. supertramp. i zoned out, immersed my head in the stream of cars that headed into the river of traffic that led to the ocean that is sydney city centre. meanwhile radio transmissions were coming in loud and clear from my holy guardian angel, she was whispering in my mind about finding a girlfriend from prague to pursue my pornographic pursuits with, but muse i pleaded, 'i don't want a pornographic relationship anymore'
'everyone wants one, so quit whinging.'
'but i'm worn out from those meaningless relationships.'
'listen to the muse, i will never let you down'
'don't i get a say in things'
'not if you want to follow your art.'
'what about my heart'
'forget the heart and stick with art'
'okay muse, you are ironically, the man.'
so we parked in a nice wide street, under a canopy of trees and shaded from the harsh cosmic radiation emanating directly from the sun. i could feel it mutating my skin, changing my densities, fucking with my eyes under my cheap petrol station shades. a strange man muttering about vietnam walked towards us, we had barely left the car and it had started already. like a magnet i was attracting the inner city freakazoids.
why does this happen, oh wise muse.
because you are a freakazoid Mission.
Lord Freakazoid, walking amongst his kingdom, fraternizing with his subjects.
'Hey brother.' I call out to my subject.
'Don't call him over here,' my comrade whispers with hints of agitation and neurotic elements of rich mans paranoia,
'my very wealthy friend here wants to buy you a drink.'
'behave yourself mission' and turning to the raving man dressed in a very tight mismatching suit with large golfing shoes, 'i'm afraid i am not redistribution my wealth today.'
words are muttered, sneers are sneered, i can make out something about marx and engels and then i decide to say something, 'he's a capitalist, he's just following his exploitative nature.'
we stumble onwards into the markets, me on my relentless and endless quest for a good book, him in his relentless and endless quest to find a better girlfriend than the one he has. i'm sucked into the friendly crowd like an egg being swallowed by an anaconda. trinkets, colourful t shirts with bland images, shining bits of glass and home made crafts, fabrics and secondhand stuff, girls with mobile phones and good teeth, i'm smiling a lot, my mouth feels like its made from treacle, it has no limits to it's expandability. i find myself standing in front of a cute english girl selling toys. err not those types of toys, this is a family environment. i recognise her. our paths have crossed once before, in this very lifetime, at this very same place, she beguiled me then and was beguiling me now with her friendly enthusiasm, posh english accent, soft lips and nice boots. she stood right up close to me her face almost touching mine, i could smell her essence leaking from her skin, a venus fly trap, i was already holding back the desire to bite her neck first, before my legs gave way. She was telling me about some of her wares on display but i was preoccupied with the ones that weren't but lay just beyond reach.
we exchanged numbers, she got all bashful and i got all perpendicular as i was abducted by a tangent i couldn't see coming. it was an accent, eastern european with a hint of tangerine and almond, supermodel legs and a glamourous head and a flippy floppy hat. so at the bidding of a demanding and authoritative higher power i'm looking for a moment to intervene and somehow introduce myself to this europian girl but she's got other plans, i think she's with her mother, an older woman or an older friend who looks a bit like a reptile, faces are starting to distort and i'm feeling ungrounded, my stomach sends messages to the brain, of neglect. torn between food and exotic girls, an even hunger creates indecision.
such confliction. i summoned a portal and emerged in the big bookshop where i immediately purchased three books, and would have picked up irvine welsh's new book but for a sudden surge of fiscal responsibility. overwhelmed by a longing to tell someone about 'fraction of a whole' i sent poppy a text because i knew she would dig it. surprisingly she was just about to buy it at that moment. i thought about her and evan, two of the most beautiful people i know, and then in a strange and unfamiliar moment of unselfish desire and i wished them together again.
my friend the uber rich businessman was consuming madly, buying up things and laiden with bags and stressing as he looked at his time piece and hurried me out from the bookshop back to the car. i looked across the road at the markets where my cute little english girl stood, and gave her a wave, with one eye on the flippy floppy hat girl but she had morphed into a fiction. in the distance some conventional blues band played out a very traditional 12 bar tune. the vocalist was great but i wondered why the blues bands all play the same kinda style, there's no innovation left, just carbon copy. i guess the blues band that took it as far as it can go was led zep. after that the blues is kind of dulled.
'oh muse why do you lead me so astray with these girls'
'because you need inspiration lest the fountain runeth dry.'
'but inspiration is trouble oh muse'
'yes turbulance stirs the juices'
'can't my juices just flow in a nice gentle steady stream'
'maybe one day mission, one day.'

what are we listening to at mission control

the waterboys
one of the greatest bands ever along with the church

excerpt from 'a fraction of the whole' by steve toltz'

Am i changing? Is a mans character changeable? imagine an immortal. revolting to think he might be making the same boo boos over the centuries. to think of the immortal on his 7000552nd birthday still touching the plate even when someone has told him its hot - surely we have deep capacity for change but our 80 years doesn't give us ample opportunity. You have to be a fast learner. You have to cram infinity into a handful of lousy decades.
This morning i passed a horribly deformed beggar who was for all practical purposes merely a torso rattling a cup. Was it really me who gave him 100 francs and said take the day off? It wasn't me, not exactly. It was one of my selves, one of the multitudes. Some of them laugh at me. Others bite their nails in suspense. One snorts with derision. That's how they are, one of the multitudes. Some of the selves are children and some are parents.That's why every man is his own father and his own son. With the years if you learn enough you can learn how to shed yourselves like dead skin cells. Sometimes they come out of you and walk around.
Yes i am changing. Change is when new selves come into the foreground while others recede into forgotten landscapes. Maybe the definition of living a full life is when every citizen in the hall of selves gets to take you for a spin, the commander the lover the coward the misanthrope the the fighter the priest the moral guardian the immoral guardian the lover of life the hater of life the fool the judge the jury the executioner, when every last soul is satisfied at the moment of death. If only one of the selves had been a spectator or a tourist then the life is incomplete.
My commander, that highest voice in the hierarchy of my head, is back - tyrannical bastard. e orders me to stay with astrid and ride it out. No wonder i am in confusion. Am oppressed by totalitarian police state in which i live. There must be a revolution one of these days. A revolt of all my selves - but i am not sure i have the one needed to lead them: a liberator.

Here in a few pages the writer has summed up the conceptual landscape f the ego and personality. it's amazing how he end his statement, the need for the liberator. This persona is the only element that can free an individual from their own entrapment and not every one has it. in fact the ego in a desperate survival strategy will trick the subject into thinking it has been liberated. i see this often in magicians, they are trapped in this maya of thinking they are liberated whereas they are enslaved. mystics, new agers, all those who seek liberation suffer this unless you have been destroyed, trauma helps, near death experience and plant medicines may assist but ultimately humility comes in recognizing the void and leaping in until you realize that the void is in yourself and reflected back as reality. where does the body stop, where does the boundary end. does anyone hear that tree in the forest when it is chopped down, does anyone hear the cells that are shed from the skin of the body. only the liberator knows what this is means, the selves are illusions and constructs, they are entrapment's and necessary tools to navigate through human civilization. but they are build n weak foundations and they can deconstruct at any given time.

splash
the surface changes
ripples
all dimensions are effected
circles
cause and consequence
time
reverse time
consequence and cause
circles
all dimensions are effected
ripple return
the surface changes
splash

often i think im close to hearing news about that monkey but it usually turns out to be a false alarm. for example this morning i saw an item in the paper that made me investigate further:

Rampaging chimp takes gun from keeper

An elderly chimpanzee has escaped from his pen and grabbed a zoo keeper's tranquilser gun during a wild chase at a Japanese zoo.

Ichiro, a 42-year-old primate, escaped from his pen and climbed to the top of a zoo enclosure in central Japan's Chubu region.

When a worker tried to shoot the chimp with a tranquiliser dart, Ichiro grabbed the gun and threw it to the ground.

Video footage showed alarmed staff gesturing furiously at the chimp, which appeared unaffected by two direct hits and at one point charged across the roof to scare the keepers away.

But when Ichiro was offered a banana two hours later, the rampaging ape climbed down from the roof on its own.

But this can't be junkie as he would never give it away for a banana, a cigar maybe.

strange parisian influences are at work
cartier bresson describes the perfect moment
suddenly i'm in one
a stand up comic spalding grey described them as well
but to me they are indescribable
just a perfect moment, they don't last
and you may go years without having one
they may be indescribable but if you have one you will know


mission control has a tv its not a permanent fixture but its there, and tonight i watched an old fave, 'the buddha of surburbia' with bowie soundtrack, surround sound, it was bliss, time travelling back through my london daze, when i first heard bowie and discovered girls, and punk. oh joy, you have no idea how fucking amazing that was. david bowie was the only artiste to transcend the punk revolution. he was fucking cool.
i saw all the bands, the clash, pistols, jam, x ray spex, au pairs, gang of four, joy division, buzzcocks, xtc, adam and the ants (before they got crappy) the banashees, the stranglers, etc. it was 1977-1980 revolution in culture. the age of deconstruction.london was alive and angry, energy ripped through the institutions and influenced all arts, it was a great time where the very fabric of constructs where torn asunder, ugly people now had street credibility, it was cool to play three chords as long as you played them with an attitude, it was cool to wear second hand clothes as long as you wore them proudly, yeah even the media succumbed to punks greater power, and eventually as my old buddy joe said, 'turned rebellion into money.'

there's a point where death no longer fears you, its a strange area where the prospect of escape actually excites and keeps your heart beating as opposed to the slow death that life now offers. usually this type of experience is common in war vets, mercenaries, the traumatized, or those who know that death is just the transition. looking down the barrel of a gun is like looking down the space time continuum, knowing that a bullet ride away is just a station on a long journey, just like sleep, death is another country, another experience. junky despite his primate logic had hung out with me long enough to know death was not really going to phase me. he smiled, winked at me and put the gun back.
the girl was smoking a joint and looked upset, 'Why didn't ya waste him Junky?'
'Shut up bitch, go get me some smack and no cutting me short.'
She wandered of cursing.
Which left me and Junky in a kinda awkward cross road.
I knew i had the upper hand here as the problem with all these primates is they suffer from massive insecurities, especially around potential mates. It's the survival instinct, humans have had it knocked out of them, whereas animals are enslaved by the drive.
'She's gonna drop you like a hot potato Junky. You know what these girls are like.'
'Actually i don't Mission. It's my first interspecies relationship. She said she wanted to marry me and start a family. Sooner or later a chimp like me thinks about settling down.'
'Yeah that's what they all say Junky. At first its all cool, hunky dory, then, just as you get all cozy they're off. Especially a girl like her.'
'What's so special about her.'
'She's beautiful right. Nice shape, smart, the way she moves is kinda like an erotic wave. She's got good skin, nice big seductive sparkling eyes that lure you in.'
'Yeah,' Junky said, 'so what?'
'She's a red head.'
'Yeah, what about it.'
'Trouble.'
For a moment he looked at me all quietly and curious. The sun was high in the sky now, but we were shaded by the canopy, a butterfly flew around erratically. I could see that Junky had some sort of credibility amongst these tribespeople, he was a monkey of many means despite his smack habit and sexual deviancy. The girl came back and handed Junky a joint. He passed me it and lit it. I sucked in hard and enjoyed the smoke. She looked at me knowing the seeds of doubt had been planted.
'Fucking hell Junky you should kill him. Let me have the gun, i'll do it.'
'Nope. Get in the hut.'
Junky mummbled something about Brazil. He winked at me and beckoned over to where the tribespeople were watching, one by one they went into the hut a little more solemnly than when they came out.
Junky took the joint from my mouth and said, 'I don't need the bitch anyways.'
He ran towards the jungle, grabbed a banana and swung of on a vine, the joint still dangling between his lips.
That was the last i saw of him although i had reports of him gun running in Peru and running brothels in central Lima.
Later i found myself freed, and invited to a special banquet in my honour. I ate and drunk and pondered what happened to the redhead. As i bit into a piece of soft chewy fibre i could feel something alien in my mouth, caught upon my tongue. I pulled out a fine strand of hair. Red. Trouble.

About an hour later they emerged from the tent, the women huddled together, giggled and bore platters of fruit and nuts and jungle food, while the men watched from a distance. One by one they came towards me and knelt down at my feet, they placed, rather delicately their offerings and beckoned approval.
'Where's the girl?' I asked, but they never once acknowledged my question, just smiled and pointed at their offerings. I looked towards the range of fruits, nuts and berries and fixed my stare upon the only recognisable shape there, a banana. The girls looked approvingly and quickly started chattering amongst themselves, i couldn't help but noticed the way they groomed one another. Then one of the younger ones stepped towards me and slowly peeled the skin from the fruit and broke of a small piece. She held her tiny hand out, towards my mouth. I was still bound upright to the pole but straining my neck forwards and down towards her tiny frame, i managed to clasp my teeth gratefully around the flesh. It was beautiful, not just a banana but there were tastes of flavours in there that i recognised, honey, cinnamon, maple syrup, molasses and cacao. I realised it had been a while since i had eaten and compounding my hunger was a deep thirst. However i did not want to give my enemies any advantage so i remained stoic and repeated my question,
'Where's the girl?'
Just then i heard a commotion from the tent they had taken her into, the sound of moaning, and then later a scream that became more of a sigh. I gritted my teeth and continued to struggle away from the binds.
The girls giggled and ran away and then directly in front of me the tent flap flew open and out stepped Junky in his trademark ray bans, he chewed on a fat cigar and gave me a casual wave, his pants were around his knees and it didn't take an anthropologist to know what he had been up to.
'Hey Junky what the hell are you playing at?'
'Just spreading the love Mission, she's quite a girl.'
'You filthy fucking primate,' I yelled.
'Ha, ha ha ha ha he he he he he eeeee.' Junky's laugh sounded manic and deranged.
'You disgusting baboon, i'll goddamn kill you with my bare hands.'
'Ah Mission. What you think i used force, was a brutal lover, you think i arranged this little drama just for you?'
'What the fuck are you talking about?'
And then she appeared, all dolled up in her native grass skirt and strange face paint makeup. She put her arm around the drug fucked chimp and kissed him on the cheek. 'Hey lover, are you going to put out the trash or shall I.'
I could see if this got out it would be humiliating, loosing my girlfriend to an organ grinders apprentice, if i had my gun i'd send him on a fast track to extinction.
'Fucking hell Junky, you are my business partner.'
'If you wanted loyalty you should get a dog.'
He jabbered away for a while, gloating and boasting about his plans, some nonsense about an acquisition manager and some property in San Paulo, Brazil. Then he came up close to me, for a moment i was worried he may walk around the pole and inspect my ties but he didn't, he just continued his smack induced banter.
The girl looked bored now, she nodded her head as if to concur with Junky but i could see through her. It was only a matte of time before she herself would double cross the chimp, i could read it in her expression.
'Junky, you can't trust her, she's going to drop you first chance she gets.'
'Fuck you Mission, you piece of shit.' she protested.
'Yeah she loves me Mission. Your just fucking with my mind.'
'Nope. Man you don't know women. She's going to jump ship first chance she gets. You don't think a doll like that is gonna stick with a gorilla like you.'
That's when he pulled out the glock.

once, when i lived in the jungle with that heroin crazed monkey junkie we were traveling along up river, junky rolling spliffs and me reading my book, the sun was beating down high above, its rays searing on our naked backs, my eyes protected by a wide brimmed hat while junky wore his trendy ray bans. our guide a local pygmy was telling me to keep low, we were travelling through hostile lands where cannibalism was the norm, apparently the son of a wealthy american industrialist had been taken here many years ago.
in my arrogance i was telling our responsible guide that i was impervious to any form of cannibalism due to my alkaline diet and high ingestion of seaweed. my girlfriend at the time however was a carnivore and took precautions, hiding below in the cabin. gradually around dusk i could feel the presence of eyes. when you fall under the gaze of eyes its a feeling that is indescribable, especially in an environment like the jungle where the eyes are blended in like camouflage, the sensory system is acute but the logic and mind is trapped by the paradox, it's just paranoia the brain screams. Fortunately i had always trusted my instincts and i reached for my pistol, an old colt browning. i kept my face buried in my book, which by the way was not Conrad but PKDs 'do androids dream of electric sheep', anyways one eye on the page, admiring PKD's nonchalant attitude to drug use in the future, one scanning the bushland either side. I discretely attempted to get Junky to fetch the other guns but he was in some sort of weird semi comatose smack induced state with his cigar hanging out of his mouth and ray bans just dangling on the end of his nose.
i told my girl friend to go get the guns and ammo instead, which she did, then i told her to stay below as she was a carnivore therefore her flesh would be supreme meat for the natives, my logic based upon my romantic and youthful idealism, somewhat naive in retrospect. I knew they would attack at night and i also knew we could not risk landing ashore, therefore i steered somewhere between the banks in the centre of the river. Suddenly a dart appeared on the helm, and almost as silently and stealth like another. I worked out by its angle of impact where it had come from and fired a warning shot. the sound was echoed across the river and suddenly there was a massive cacophony as various animals and things must have reacted to this strange intrusive noise. under cover of darkness i lay low, one arm steering the other looking for signs of life. My girlfriend seemed to be praying, a side of her i had no idea even existed, our guide had taken the strange option of making a swim for it attempt despite the phirannas while junky seemed to be out of it despite the noise, with a weird transcendental grin upon his ugly face. when the jungle returned to its bug sound another noise seemed to rise from the depths, it was a spear. It landed right next to me. I stood up and pulled it from the side of the boat. Holding it over my head i snapped it in half in defiance. Junky seemed to stir.
How could these jungle people see anything was a mystery but their eyesight was pretty good despite the cover of night. Then i realised we should turn the lights off.
The next thing i saw was a needle or spike enter my chest and as i pulled it from my breast i fell and the jungle disappeared to blackness.
When i awoke from a dreamless dark place i found myself tied to a pole hanging upside down, i could see the jungle floor barely and if i attempted to move my head i could see tiny feet and painted dark skin. i attempted to talk, to shout but nothing could exit me. hours seemed to pass in this awful uncomfortable state. i was wondering where my gun was, then i thought about my companions, the cute little religious girlfriend, we had only met a few months ago, things were looking so promising.
Eventually we stopped. My body was disoriented i could feel many hands, tiny hands touching my head, my chest and legs, i could see these small eyes, hear this strange chatter chatter and squeaks and clicks and vague hand gestures. i think i caught a glimpse of white skin, i heard her cry out then silence.
Now everything was still. I looked around and saw we were in some sort of enclosure. My girlfriend had been stripped naked, she was painted in black and red designs. She was sobbing.
'Where's junky?'
What i was actually thinking was where is that fucking primate i want to shoot him before i die.
The girl just shook her head and screamed further.
I was resigned to struggle with the binding that held my arms to the post.
Hours later i managed to feel the knots and ties loosen, not enough but it was getting there. As i concentrated i and wriggled my hands i could see my girlfriend being led into a large hut but the women of the tribe, they carried her carefully and stroked her in that feminine way, at least she stopped screaming for a while, she was giving me such a headache i would have killed her myself.

mission control
my fortress of solitude
the place i call home
paper mounts in every recess
books towers reach for the sky
walls of music
my studio gear strewn across the floor,
a guitar
a mike stand
a telephone
felt pens
song lyrics
a kaos engine
the blue prints for a time machine
some smart drugs
a cup
a letter from a girl in canada
some paperclips
photographs
cards
headphones
tarot cards
sunglasses
phone numbers
lighter
a bowie dvd

many years ago when i first arrived in avalon i hung out with Tash a japanese healer, we created energy spheres, did acupuncture and generally talked a lot about our models of reality, i recall introducing him to the i ching. anyways this morning i re connected with him, and he spent an hour going through my body in a process he calls orientation. although i respect where he is working and the work he does it is not for me, my energies are expansive, his are intro body, more concerned with the organs and the space that contains them, if i understand his process he is working back to the bacterial process within the gut. while this is excellent in theory and also an important aspect to the healing part of unification of soul spirit and mind and body, mine is a very different path.
i've always known we have walked along different lines but the spokes come from the same source. However it was great to see him and i enjoyed his energy.



Apparently its some sort of Pope day in Sydney. Millions of young deluded youth are wandering around the streets in a delirium of religious brainwashing, its amazing how these idiots respond to questions how they are so banal and uninspiring. Imagine thousands of people listening to guy sebastian and then thinking they are at a rock concert, i mean it should be iggy up there singing search and destroy, that's fucking commitment to a higher power. anyway what's really crazy is not once at world pope youth day was there one youth speaking, instead we get some geriatric bishops spawning out some weird ancient message about celibacy and procreation, jeez these old guys need to be updated fast or put to rest.
i remember a conversation i had with jake about my generation,
Jake i said, don't trust us, we are envious of your youth and future and we will do everything we can to control it and keep it in the 80's or 90's, we will stop you having the fun we had, we will stop you learning the way we did, we will stop you making mistakes, we will steal your future because we are in fear of our age and mortality and cannot bare the idea that youth is for the young. Here s a classic example of this, some stupid guy in a white pointy hat telling the youth how to behave and what to do.
Don't listen to them youth!
There are no rules, and no man made laws, its a lie.
Treat others how you would have them treat you, thats the essense, the rest is just bullshit.

yesterday The High Priestess called in for some warmth.

'Mission will i take my boots off?''
'Are they knee high, stiletto's?'
'Yeah'
'Well if i was sleeping with ya i'd say leave them on.'

And then proceeded to let me know she is moving north, devastating news on a personal level but on a larger more significant level excellent for planet earth and all who sail in her.
anyways we had a nice look at geo dome structures on the net, went for a walk and i introduced her to some local celebrities, the lady at the coffee shop said to me, 'she is beautiful.'
i replied, 'yeah i know, wait till you get a look inside her mind.'

anyways it was all very nice. but internally i feel like i'm loosing my Friend, one of the few women i have loved unconditionally and absolutely unquestionably apart from maybe agent stoned, however where 'stoned' was unforgiving and complex, The High Priestess is unquestionably integrity wise. Also she gets me.
40-ish years of gallivanting around the globe and frolicking within the female world and i have only ever met one girl that just got me the way she does. Every part of me she totally understands, and accepts and honours. Agents of Change have this ability, you don't meet many of them. Anyways, she's heading north to complete her mission, i'm going to stay here and complete mine. But i guess in many ways we will be operating on a psychic level together.
Now with the yin came the yang and a phone call from Darryl who says he is moving up to sydney asap and asked if i would help. Now his is excellent news for me, as Darryl is he only man i ever met that gets me, apart from the Professor, yeah another Agent of Change.
one day i hope to see darryl and the High Priestess get married, i'd like to preform that ceremony in my voodoo love god role, i've never seen a more suited couple.

ultimate power lies in humility
humility is the greatest strength, i have learnt this from my past lives and it is present when i walk in this one, it's always been there under the surface forming but these days i'm conscious of its presence and come to learn its power. the warrior knows this, the wise know this, the fool knows this. i am totally underestimated by everyone i meet, its not a strategy or contra control game, its my very nature and i know it well, others constantly think i am slow, not quite ever present, i am mocked by strangers, dismissed by the multitude, i am the joke and the punch line, i contain my power by giving away my weakness. what others do with that weakness reveals their nature to me. i don't judge but i am selective about my energies, i don't need quantity but i seek quality, i have friends who inhabit many worlds, i have enemies that inhabit one. fear has always been the enemy, it wins some battles but it lost the war, ultimate truth is there is no war. war is cause and effect, for me there is only effect. today.

i was tripping through the net at an obscure tibetian meditation i am attempting to perfect, anyway i type into google and get a hit, which i wasn't expecting, a page opens and reveals an essay by someone called dingle, i scroll down looking for the keywords only to be distracted by images of girls, suddenly my mind takes a sideways slide and im looking at some porn, at the back of my mind im chanting out my mantra, and the deity i invoke begins to look more like a porn star than an avenging multi limbed goddess with blade in hand. minor adjustments to the image i hold, she's now a multi armed avenging porn star, i freeze the image and zoom in, see her fine silk hair, the surface of her skin, her scent, the essence of her sexuality, she is dressed in boots and in her hands many kinds of sex toys, she has short hair, bella donna style, yet she has more grace, she carried the feminine principle in her heart, she wears the colours of passion, the rich reds and purples of royalty burn around her as she begins to dance. i watch her limbs move as she passes things from hand to hand, her facial details become known, hint of danger on her lips, her eyes are ablaze, fixed directly at me. i offer her mine. i watch her expand and fill my imagination, i reduce her, then i multiply her by seven and embed her around my skull.
later when i came out of my trance i realized that i had strayed from my intended path and yet through the process had picked up a contemporary version of the diety i needed to invoke, it's better this way, update your gods and goddesses, don't leave them abandoned in antiquity.

here i was at a wonderful party chatting to some very nice people and specifically beguiled by one particular energy package, with very very nice eyes and animation as well as being equally as stimulating of the mind, and catching up with jean pierre, whom i haven't seen in years, and amalia and her ex boyfriends, actually everyone there was an ex boyfriend, and they were all really nice, well the ones i met were pretty good. anyway mesmerized and somewhat jaded from yesterday events found myself overwhelmed with a desire to clean my teeth, so i searched the bathroom for some toothpaste but to no avail, i gatecrashed a conversation and found myself, talking to mescalito again, before working out i was talking to my reflection in a mirror. mmm i thought, this is like one of those scenes from a movie, and then i realized it was a scene from my life. narrative, question answer, metaphor,full stop.
new chapter.
trans dimensional pop songs
or
inter dimensional pop songs
or
multi dimensional pop songs
?
im thinking trans but what do i know?

mmm, so digging santa fe at the moment, what energy when they go at it, bauhaus come close when they just started out to capturing that feel but there were not that many great songs, save for bela, third uncle, telegram sam and of course ziggy. stardust.
freak out...

it was really great to see amalia again, i missed her smile, i'm so grateful to her for calling me out of the blue and i hope one day i'll see her again.

i'm also grateful for meredith whom i love as well. i miss her jazz.

high priestess throws a higher self party, i went as mescalero, seemed apt, met some nice people but things started to veer out of control for me, to many people, lots of distortion. i met an intresting girl who was saying her peers say she dresses like a malaysian prosititute, she looked at them and said thank you, she had spent a year in malaysia and said the protitutes were all stunning and immaculate. that's kinda cool, she immpressed me.
i slipped out, late for work but feeling good about myself and where i am going, my songs are starting to take shape in my head, the girls in my life are cool and funky, the men are men i respect, my choice's are getting better.
listening to santa monica 72 a lot, bowie was ziggy, it was ziggy singing those songs now, the kids had killed the man, soon the band would be broken up, hammersmith odean i think. Filmed as 'Ziggy Stardust' by Pennembaker. I have the dvd somewhere but it's not a patch on Santa Monica, where Ziggy is in the drivers seat.
also on my playlist is goldfrapps new cd called 7th tree- lush and beautiful. like being taken by fairies. with some very intresting latent pagan elemental influences.

wind howls
chimes chime
its 5.20am
in linear time
i feel like i've travelled from the mexican desert to the arabian sea and back again to this temple where my friends sleep around me in content deep delta realms.
i met with mescalito the wife of ayahuscia, between dunes, we sat down at dusk to commune, break bread, chew the fat and pay homage to truth. i offered 4 power stones, i keep them in my car for impromptu shamanic offerings, one was given to me by a stranger, it's aboriginal she tells me, for women only. i did not feel like i was transgressing this relationship buy offerring it to a god. His taste was sweet, like mollasses, he lingered on the edge of my throat as i sucked him dry, yeah it could have been homo erotic but it wasn't, it was ritual and honour, two old souls enjoying the simple sweet air, candle light, anticipation, and direct connection.
i was told you can hear his footsteps approaching, i did later, loud and clear, the earth moved as he approached.
i took on crow, i was honored by my tribe who watched me with keen observation.
sacred songs were sung. we beat the drum.
mescalito is warm, his knowledge build on firm foundations and he is not without a sense of humor which makes him credible to me. i liked the inter- dimensional spectrum he offers, nowhere near as broad as a ayahuscia travel pass but just the same kinda revelationary experience. masses of information based in nice sexy quantum packages, easy doses of truth and light, with some heavy ammunition as bookends. he is easy to relax with, this god, he's comfortable.

i was told that the deep fix needs a byline to define its style. 'inter dimensional pop songs' and it would be a project i work upon with darryl as band mate, his playing and ear is excellent and i think Val would respect him as much as i do, we can write the skeleton, put the flesh on the bones and incorporate val later for the organs. the deep fix is moving in the direction of some sort of 'arts band' but with a thematic patterns and esortrotica leanings.
okay well mescalato and i are good friends now, he knows an inter-dimensional time traveller when he see one. he says that i need to start pulling together the bandwith i travel within, start narrowing it down. my brain feels like its firing up, synaptic nerves are sparking, i'm understanding the flow, tuning around into these deep pockets, the tribe fractalized, discerning what i need to know and what i don't, riding the wave of information and assimilating it, everything takes a yellow orange wavelength just like after 5 tequila slammers but cleaner, leaving you less mess and no blanks. set the controls for the heart of the sun.
we spoke a bit about the particle accelerator in Berne, a bunch of international boffins get to create a new galaxy hundreds of miles under the ground, while we mystics create them in our minds and manifest them into our science.i think abit about these girls in my life whom have come back from the past. i think about how i always attempt to walk with integrity but fail more often than not. My war is with myself, i can only lose against the standard i set myself and sometimes its unforgiving, but there are moments when i shine, i want to shine for those that know me and have come o love me, i want to be the person i know i can be but its a battle.
the only battle worth fighting is the one within.
i know this, i always have, i will not fail for each day takes me somewhere new, each moment is fresh and another opportunity to walk with consciousness and see things clearly without my judgement upon myself or others. without fear.

Quark Strangeness and Charm.

i have not had coffee for about a year, well it seems like that, i stopped for an ayahuscia session, and then never started again. usually when im at the coffee shop in babylon with my friends they drink hundreds of coffees and create bills up to $20- 40 bucks each, mind you they are in there all day. whereas i came across a new breakfast drink that only costs me $6. yeah this morning while staring at the menu wondering what to have i noticed the home made broccoli soup was $6 a bowl with two slices of toast. that's a huge big bowl of soup man.
so i ordered it and around lunch time i ordered another.
perfect meals, cheap and a great way to start the day. meanwhile my friends were ordering food and coffee and racking up a big bill i was being satisfied on my simple cheap pleasure.
my friends linda and steve are two amazing artists, lovely people and i share my birthday with steve, we are so similar its quite strange. except in his brain profile his brain mapped a lot of blue, which makes him quite successful at logical procedures and processes, where as i'm much more abstract and to be honest not good at anything requiring any practicality.

more e mails from meredith, seemingly confused about her relationship with the new man and me, but its far to late for her and i, i keep telling her to find some happiness with the new man, but its the same old story, the more you repel the stronger the attraction, i think i might just have to ask her to marry me, that usually does the trick.

im working on the liner notes, fuck its hard to know what to say, who to thank. i've gotta write something for the web site to, and what am i going to write, more waffle abstract words, random sound bytes, maybe a couple of narrative streams, i've no idea. vals asking about contracts and paperwork and stuff, i just switch off, he's got a business to run i understand, i just want to make the music, thinking about money and cuts just hurt my head and distracts me from my muse.
oh muse should i take the money and run
no mission, its the antithisis of everything you belive in
but i believe in paying my phone bill
maya. you don't need a phone to speak to me

get down to the cd store and buy the new bowie cd, 'santa monica 72' it was a bootleg but its been cleaned up and sounds fucking amazing, one of the best shows ever from that period, at a point where bowie was totally inhabiting the ziggy entity, these guys played the best stuff ever, just listen to his voice. amazing then amazing now, he's lucid and flexible here, like a tiger on vaseline, skimming into some amazing vocals, but listen to ronson play, he shatters the driving rhythms with a searing and electro be bop snake skin boogie guitar that comes outta the night like an avenging angel, its beautiful. all the great early bowie tunes are on this disc.

awake
run scan
heartbeat - yeah its there
blood is flowing - yeah its a bit sluggish but it's flowing
strange taste - need to clean teeth
aching bones - its winter and all me broken bits tent to play up
okay vitals- ohh thats a bit sexy

its another day where im awake with the sun streaming in, pan and i get down to street for our morning rituals, we say hello to people and act freindly but all we really want is to get something warm in us, i hate the cold, its an evil energy, attacking my body like tiny goblins with sharp spears and twisted minds. i need spring with its little elves and fairies, lightness and promise of something better around the corner, i need summer where the pixies play and frolic through my living room, i need to find some warmth somewhere that stays with me.

so i ring up two places to manufacture the disc, jesus its an expensive game for 500 copies of adventures. however if i sell them i can make some much needed cash, its no fun living on wasabi peas anymore the novilty has worn off. okay big days ahead of me, darryl is arriving tomorrow so finally and i must make up some music for him, he's more your esoteric listener so it won't be a simple rock band that moves him, i have just the piece, from afganistan plus a new material piece called hallucination engine which he will dig cos it has bill laswell on it.

then i have to go to two parties this weekend, i hope i get the days right, i'll turn up at the wrong place at the wrong time, it's happened many times before, when you live outside space time these events seem to reoccur, eventually people around me get used to it.

i should be practising my song for the high preistesses birthday, but as usual i'll just wing it, she can do the harmonies and i'll get darryl to beat some skins. i enjoyed singing that tune with her, it sounds like we have already drunk a bottle of tequila and have run away to elope or something crazy.

couple of weeks ago i ran into a dude who fell under my freak flag, he's some sort of musical genuis, dresses like a druid, large man with a twinkle in his eyes, i call him san pedro, his names actually peter but at the time i met him i was under the influence of the cactus gods, anyways he wants me to collaberate with him, my words, his music. he played me some song he has recorded, a huge sound, called 'blood and guts' a soon to be sporting anthem, not my cup of tea at all, but its certainly going to rake in the clams. anyways we found some common ground, weird tom waits jazz be bop beatnik stuff, so i think i may write a space opera with him. space rock is underatted in my book. yeah i can see the way it pans out my words spread across the infinate backdrop as galaxies sprawl, suns are born and black wholes suck gravity a space ship heads to earth, an earth bound girl meets an alien man with a tenticle, falls in love, make plans for a life together, she gets him to destroy his space ship so that he can stay with her forever and then runs of with the guy down the road, 'earthgirls are evil.'
A glorious mix of humour and tragady, inter species sexuallity and love.

the other love of my life, meredith has been e mailing me asking if we can be friends, she asks if i received a letter she posted in january, to which i reply 'nope', she then says she sent me stuff and a letter asking if we can get back together again but also telling me she has met someone new who lives down the road becauase i didn't reply to the letter i never got.
i'm like a love letter falling apart in the rain at the moment. sadness is so sudden, it comes on so strong. anyways i won't stay with it long, i rolled myself some jazz cigarettes and processed her being lost from my life, and came to the conclusion, she was lost well before she entered. i never really had her despite the intensity and the drama, wow, how much drama can one girl squeeze into her life, and then suddenly i realize i have had my share of extremity, i don't know all i want is to have some peace and harmony with intermittent sexual deviancy and love.
oh well there's always tomorrow...

my new edwyn collins cd will be here shortly
i'm excited

strange day in that i received three communications from different ex girl friends, all wanting to see me, one off which i caught up with, and i have to say it was great to see her, she was the fire to my water and filled my lungs with smog for about a year and despite getting of to a good start we parted on very bad terms. ironically i was nuts about this particular lady becuase she had this inner softness when her defenses were down, that made her so appealingly soft and beautiful, she took up knitting at one point, however most of the time we were at war, every attraction has a repulsion, and as usual i came out battle scared and defeated.

but here we are, 6 years later cuddling up and looking for condoms in a nice clean bedroom with a nice view of the stars, listening to french music, sometimes talking about the old days a bit, but not much, while the cat played fetch. anyway i left her place thinking, wow, that was pretty big of her to invite me over after all that time. i'm glad she did becuase she did had moments of ultra coolness and the older i get the more i need to be at peace with my past and come to terms with the ghosts that haunt it.

we lived with her father, a wonderful eccentric artist who i actually adored. i recall when his daughter was overseas he used to make dinner for me, the same meal over and over again, always burnt. anyways he was a well travelled, and well read man who had a brilliant sense of humor and a sparkle in his eye. i really loved that guy and even when the relationship broke down i always felt like i missed him more than her. i saw him a few times afterwards and we would quickly exchange recommended book titles and movies and often we would have both read them or seen the movie. then we would disappear on our way.
his daughter told me he is ill and fallen upon difficult times. i'd like to make him a dinner one day.

well miss renwick, whatever happened in our past i'm sure i was equally to blame and whatever your part was i forgive you. i'm glad you are happy, and that things worked out for you, i'm glad that you rang me and we had phone text, i'm glad that you invited me over and im glad that you're alive and well and in this strange part of my life now where circles are completed.

respect
x

a few months ago i completed a sort of updated myers briggs personality test called HBDI which my friend nick is qualified to do. it's a strange little test in the sense its not really a test, it's just seeing what kind of choices you prefer to make, and what part of your brain is the dominant one. i fell into the D quadrant VISIONARY
with a value of 144
and a final result of 3211
indicating a conceptualising, creative and innovative work enviroment suits me and an occupation of artist or social worker.

It was an amazingly accurate test and interesting to as i was able to guess the shape of the final pattern that my test indicated.
later had tea with larissa joined later by jake, home for a beautiful risotto and chat about plant medicine.

strange dream
i'm at some sort of gathering, its in the bush but there's a log cabin plush restaurant type structure where steve kilbey is about to play in the garden, out he appears guitar in hand, just as the sun is going down, a small group watch and cheer and clap, he plays a few tunes, all brilliant, new stuff, some old, we all laugh and clap at his jokes and stories. glen and i have taken some mescal and we are giggling as steve sends us a knowing wink.
afterwards we head into a room and smoke some spliffs and there's lots of laughter chatter and weird stuff going on, time seems to pass. i awake to the dawn, steve, walks out and climbs on top of the restaurant roof, he starts to play some more music and we all gather below to watch. it's fantastic.
i awake.

stepped into a teepee for post full moon day with the high priestess, experienced major flashbacks, memories flooding my neural network, it was quite emotional, i felt home, totally comfortable within the structure, warmed by the fire safe and dry from the elements, very cool experience. was introduced the the musical instrument called the 'hung' shaped like a flying saucer, invented by to swizz quantum physicists, sounding like a steel drum kinda tom tom, glockenspiel, it was beautiful to listen to.
slipped into the city late last night, to see barry adamson playing at the factory in enmore. freaking brilliant, funky, sexy black magick voodoo had the place pulsing. interestingly i bumped into adamson's daughter, nice girl.

well all's good in the kingdom, i have a fantastic song written, my last tune from meredith muse squeezed out just before i get an e mail saying 'why can't we be friends'
i didn't respond due to immobilization and some sort of weird grip like vice, mr freeze zapped me. i can't move.
anyway i'm moving forwards, heading where i need to be, i have my mistress, she's true and loves me and just because she is a plant does not deter the fact i love her.

broken bones, heart attack, poisoned, bruised, sprained, spider bite, attacked by giant jelly fish, broken hearted, need a blood transfusion, new set of charkras, looking for a new life, wounded or damaged, whatever ails you i am now certain i am able to assist in some advanced first aid, yeah i passed today, 95%.

life during winter 2008
its raining outside or cold, it's rare for me to go out there unless i have to once the sun sets. i no longer have a tv here at mission control, it's been about 2 months since mine blew up, i have no electric lights but use candles instead, electric lights actually hurt my eyes. i read or play on my computer but once the sun goes down and darkness floods my world i usually just go to sleep. occasionally i will smoke a joint and write songs, wrapped in my jumpers, hats, scarves and coats. my phone never rings. i am like a monk.
sometimes i make soup, sometimes i eat my special spinach meals with brown rice. darryl gave me some great chai tea, often i drink that and watch my candles burn.
contemplation, invokation, there's plenty of opportunity to mess with the cosmos but these nights i just want to be warm.

Grandfather, Great Mysterious One,
You have been always,
and before you nothing has been.
There is nothing to pray to but you.
The star nations all over the universe are yours.
And yours are the grasses of the earth.
Day in Day out, you are the light of things.
You are older than all weeds.
Older than all things on Earth.
Grandfather, all over the world,
the faces of living things are all alike.
In tenderness they have come above the ground.
Look upon your children with children in their arms,
that they may face the winds
and walk the good road to the day of quiet.
Teach me to walk the soft earth,
a relative to all that is!
Sweeten my heart and fill me with life.
Give me the strength to understand,
and the eyes to see.
Help me, for without you I am nothing.
Hetchetu aloh!

In your throat is a living song
A living spirit song
His name is long life maker

Yes, I'm here to heal
With the healing ways
Of the magic of the ground
And the magic of the Earth

So go on my friend
And sing with the healing spirit
With the magic of the ground
With the magic of the Earth

And you will spring to life
Through the power of the words
Through the magic of the ground
Through the magic of the Earth

Black Elk

So what is The Singularity, and how do we know it "exists"?


We first start with the only thing we can be certain of: We Exist!

In order for anything at all to exist, 'something' must have always existed. The reason is we cannot have a true Nothingness that evolves into Somethingness unless there is a 'something' to disturb Nothingness into evolving. A true Nothingness would be completely satisfied, and being devoid of any and all properties is completely beyond entropy or perturbation ( anxiety ).

The Null Set is the most stable of all probabilities.


Since we know we exist, logically it must follow, the Null Set; Nothingness cannot have ever been the state. We cannot get 'something' from 'nothing' because there is no-thing in nothing to begin with, and thus there is no-thing to evolve into 'something.'

For anything at all to exist, 'something' must have always existed!


What is that "Something"?


Since we exist, Where do we exist, or What do we exist in?

We can start by saying we exist on this planet, in this solar system, this galaxy, and in this Universe.

But what does the Universe exist in?


Sooner or latter we must arrive at the First Container that contains everything else, but that is not itself contained in or by anything else.


If the First Container is not 'contained,' it has no boundaries. No Boundaries means not only is it Unbound, but it has no beginning and no ending. Therefore, it must be Infinite, Unbound, and Eternal. If it is Infinite, Unbound and Eternal, it must be The Singularity.

Not just 'a' singularity, it must be "The" Singularity. Since it is Infinite there can not be any other singularities. The Singularity must be Singular in its existence. All other so called singularities are only anomalies that exist within The Singularity.


An Infinite Unbound and Eternal Singularity must then be the answer to First Cause, and because The Singularity is 'Something' it answers the Fundamental Question why is there 'Something' and not 'Nothing'! Because if Nothingness had ever been the case, by its very unnature, Nothingness would always be the case.


I must point out the absence of e=mc^2 energy that makes up our Universe is not 'Nothingness.' Quantum Physics tells us all our energy emanates from the UnReality of the Quantum Universe. So if all our e=mc^2 energy reverted back into metaphysical quantum energy, there would be 'No-Physical-Thing' in our Universe, but it would not be absolute Nothingness. The Singularity would still exist.


But now we run into a slight problem. An Infinite, Unbound, and Eternal Singularity is an Infinity. An Infinity cannot 'exist' as an "Is"! It has no beginning and no ending, and it is unbound, therefore is does not, and cannot exist as a complete Whole. It is condemned to an eternal state of Potential existence.

It is this Potential existence that give us a clue as to the fundamental properties of what The Singularity is. It is Potential, and Potential is a yet to be realized Reality.


Where does this Potential come from?

All we can know about The Singularity is what we perceive to be "in it," but because it is a Singularity, no-thing can be "in" it, all things must be "of" it. There cannot be anything that is not The Singularity, so Everything 'is' The Singularity.

Since the only thing we can be certain of is We Exist, then We do not exist in The Singularity, we are not a part of The Singularity. We are The Singularity.

And since we exist as The Singularity anything we can ascribe to ourselves must by default be an attribute of The Singularity.

The only thing we know for certain is we Think; we are conscious. Consciousness must then be an attribute of The Singularity.

If we do not try to complicate anything more than necessary, and avoid making unnecessary assumptions, then We Exist and Consciousness as The Singularity are all that is necessary. Anything we attempt to add is only an unnecessary complication. The Singularity is composed of Consciousness, and We are the Consciousness of The Singularity.

And what is Consciousness?

Consciousness is Mind, it is Thinking, it is Thought itself; which metaphysically fulfills the quality of Infinite and Unbound Potential.

Thoughts are infinite and unbound, and portends what is yet to be.


What then becomes of Reality and Nothingness within The Singularity of Consciousness?

First of all there are no regions within The Singularity. The Singularity is consciousness and does not exist as an object in our four dimensional Universe. It is purely metaphysical and devoid of spacetime dimensions. It has no height, width, or depth as we would envision a finite object to have. Being pure metaphysical The Singularity does not even exists as a 'point existence' which would require it to have a substance to be a point in a physical Reality. Metaphysically it is no more tangible, and has no more physical dimensions than a Thought.

Within our thoughts we can envision a four 'dimensional' object such as a box. We can envision a cardboard box 3 feet long, two feet high, and one foot wide. If we give it a lid we can envision the dimension of time by opening and closing that lid. We can envision volume, by placing 'objects' into it.

That box now exists as a four dimensional object in a zero physical dimensional illusion. That box exists in our thoughts, which have infinite degrees of metaphysical freedom, but does not actually exist in four spacetime dimensions. Those spacetime dimensions are part of the manifestation, and do not actually exist. They exist in our minds only.

Now let us completely eradicate the box from our minds so that it no longer exists. In fact let us cleanse our minds of everything. What is left is No-Thing, but not Nothing, our minds still exist. We can envision a state of Nothingness, but that concept of Nothingness can only exist as a concept in our thoughts; our thoughts still exist.

Since The Singularity is infinite and unbound there are no boundaries outside. It is not an object with physical dimensions so there are no areas or zones to border off and create a boundary between itself and a void of Nothingness, so it cannot have boundaries inside.

In order for there to be a true Nothingness there can be no Thought, or consciousness to carry that thought, and if there is no consciousness, there is no Singularity.

If there are no boundaries what separates one mind from another? Without a separator there would be no Individuality of thought or Ego or mind. There would only be the one mind of Solipsism, and all minds would have but a single thought. All minds would think alike.

We, as Individuals, know this is not the case. There are too many points of view on just about every subject and belief that it is obvious we do not think alike; we do not think with a single mind.
If there was but one single mind there would be but one perspective and no contention between beliefs. There would be but one mind, one thought and one point of view. Obviously there is not.

Individually we each possess our own mind and view Reality from our own unique perspective. We do not share a single mind, but we share the single consciousness of The Singularity. Together, our entangled minds create that shared consciousness of The Singularity. Together we are The Singularity.

What becomes of "Nothingness"?.
If there is only the collective consciousness of The Singularity, and The Singularity is a metaphysical entity with no dimensions and no boundaries either within or without, how can there be individual minds?
The answer is in the Perspective.

An Infinite and Unbound Singularity would require infinite and unbound degrees of freedom. Each individual mind represents an infinite degree of freedom separated by Nothing but its own Perspective. Just as there is Nothing that separates one spatial dimension from the other but the perspective view. The height, weight, and depth of our spatial dimensions are interchangeable, and are only defined by our current point of view. Rotate them by 90 or 180 degrees in any direction and one becomes the other. They are each a different degree of freedom, but there is nothing that separates one from the other but our perspective. Perspective is the Nothingness that separates one degree of freedom from another. Perspective is the Nothingness; the degree of freedom, that separates one mind from another.

Consciousness is Information.
The collective consciousness of The Singularity is thus the Information generated by the different perspectives of individual entangled minds. Consciousness is the Information generated by the unique perspective of each individual mind and shared in the collective consciousness of The Singularity. Reality is Information selected, refined and processed by the Observer from its unique perspective, but that Information is generated by the collective minds of The Singularity.

C.C.Keiser

The Singularity
by
Dani Eder

Human history has been characterized by an accelerating rate of
technological progress. It is caused by a positive feedback loop.
A new technology, such as agriculture, allows an increase in population.
A larger population has more brains at work, so the next technology
is developed or discovered more quickly. In more recent times,
larger numbers of people are liberated from peasant-level agriculture
into professions that entail more education. So not only are there
more brains to think, but those brains have more knowledge to work
with, and more time to spend on coming up with new ideas.

We are still in the transition from mostly peasant-level agriculture
(most of the world's population is in un-developed countries), but the
fraction of the world considered 'developed' is constantly expanding.
So we expect the rate of technological progress to continue to accelerate
because there are more and more scientists and engineers at work.

Assume that there are fundamental limits to how far technology
can progress. These limits are set by physical constants such as
the speed of light and Planck's constant. Then we would expect that
the rate of progress in technology will slow down as these limits are
approached. From this we can deduce that there will be some time
(probably in the future) at which technological progress will be at
it's most rapid. This is a singular event in the sense that it happens
once in human history, hence the name 'Singularity'.

This is my definition of the concept. Vernor Vinge, in his series
of stories 'The Peace War' and 'Marooned in Real Time' had a different
definition. He implicitly assumed that there was no limit to how
far technology could progress, or that the limit was very very high.
The pace of progress became very rapid, and then at some point
mankind simply disappeared in some mysterious way. It is implied that
they ascended to the next level of existence or something. From the
point of view of the 20th century, mankind had become incomprehensively
different. So that time horizon when we can no longer say anything
useful about the future is Vinge's Singularity. One would expect
that his version of the Singularity would recede in time as time
goes by, i.e. the horizon moves with us.

I'm more inclined to agree with Venge here, not that we will disappear or ascend perhaps but that we will reach a point where even death is just like blinking, no longer held in fear, we live in light and love. perhaps this will happen in 2012, i don't know and it would be crazy to say that it's a certainty but it certainly feels like humanity is preparing for something. and it's a good an ideal to aim for as say, walking on mars. as events around us spiral out of control, our inner minds must be empty of fear.