just when you relax and think it's all smooth sailing the weather can change and a shit storm come pummelling down accompanied by the cruel laughter of some twisted sadistic god. well fortunately that's not my god.
here i am driving again, satisfying my need for velocity, you know i love the fact i have a highway to rocket down, it's where i can legally speed and when i'm off the highway i revert to a healthy safe regime following all the rules like a really good citizen. 
its worked out quite well. all i needed was a highway.
however in weather like this morning driving becomes something else, focusing concentration, breathing exercises, mental agility, pattern recognition, adaptability and some heightened psychic ability.
and lady luck because in conditions like fog and heavy rain, patches of sun and the occasional wash of water as a truck shoots by, luck is what gets you home. 

i have some time off, i'm going to get my bicycle on the road and give the car a break. 

next!

my on/off girlfriend has cancer. 

i just found out.

i don't know what to say, the universe seems to add and subtract and there's that crazy bit where you just don't know what the result will be. 

i want her to be okay, i want her to just be okay.

we have a loose relationship, it's really simple and it works, we get together sometimes when i have a weekend off and we play, its like two wild animals playing free and hanging out...simple easy and real!

there's nothing i can do except light a candle and pray for her health.

at 5am this morning i find myself looking for a coffee before i hit the highway. i'd been up till late smoking johnny cash and now i was suffering the early morning blues but i noticed the stars and then i found the moon. it's a big moon this weekend, i always get very hyperactive around this period, and i confess excited. those winter days are behind us, the evenings can only get lighter. there's something reassuring in that, i mean there is not much that is certain. you can depend on the astral ballet more than you can depend on your government these days.

i find a 24 hour place and grab my latte for the road, i flick through the newspaper, the return of rudd is imminent. 

i think i read that, 'game of thrones' is julia gillards favourite series but she's actually in one, a game of thrones. i close the paper wondering where all the news is, it's not in here.

i drive out to the highway, searching for a cd to stick into the player, i sift through a pile of stuff and stick 'atoms for peace' in, crank it up. 

out on the highway i hit that zen space, nothing really acts as a point of reference, auto pilot i guess, me and the road, stars twinkle and the moon looking down on me as it sinks, i could be anywhere in the universe but here i am like a little corpuscle travelling down a vein. there's no cars on the road, just me, and as i get towards brooklyn the sun is coming up, the waterways all come alive, glimmering like ancient energy does, i pull over and take it all in. moon sun and water, earth, fixed point brooklyn bridge, i don't know, i feel like i'm in some cosmic alignment but i am now running late for work, the cosmos will have to wait, i feel all energised now, running on coffee and moon power. look out world here i come.

 

here i am on the central coast of nsw, how did i get here, thrown from the northern beaches, blown adrift after tims death. the central coast where there is car culture, some gypsy folk across the way, smoking cults and winery restaurants, i could be anywhere really, i'm always just lost. 
here i am alone, day in day out with only friends who border autistic spectrums, they can't fathom me but they trust me, and that feels good.
it's okay i whisper in their ears, it's okay. i see their fear, what is this madness outside of them, why it's the world of man, hard to navigate my friends, i don't know how i do it, just barely. that's the resonation, that's why they trust me, they know i am one of them, freaked out by religions, politics, banks ad tax, freaked out by haircuts and cars and money, shoelaces and cake tins. i'm lost in civilisation but somehow i surf it. 
it's okay man, it will pass, all things pass. i don't know what it is, just some ones idea. it's alright sister, it won't hurt you if you don't believe in it.
what do you believe in, you can see them pleading.
i believe in you.
but we are lost causes.
thats technically out of context, your found effects.
that's a good name for a song or book.
yeah, i make a note to myself.
a found effect, i found you and you found me, and the effect is just a kinda good feeling right.
are we friends
yes
i loose all my friends.
me to eventually.
i'm scared.
me to. it just means your alive.
here i am not quite alone.
today the girl from fbi radio rang me up, asked me how i was.
it had been so long since i had spoken to anyone i just rambled on. when she hung up i was standing there wondering why she called.
i don't really understand anything sometimes, even what i think, it just passes in and leaves me. if i'm lucky i may get to write it down.

this is evening, travelling fast, it's late and i've sat in the darkness listening to an old church cd, parallel universe, disc two.
i have a small lamp sending out a red soft light across the floor, while the volume pumps out these incredible songs. my joint is burnt out, my skin cold and i'm wrapped in blankets like some north american indian in a teepee. 
have you heard this cd? play it, loud and in the darkness, let it wash over you, my god, it's full off stars as dave said as he flew through the black oblix and became a star child.

okay finally 'snuff' is available at cd baby, please have a listen to some tunes, see what you think, buy one if you wish, i'd recommend the whole cd as it's a conceptual piece but what the hell, it's a diverse collection. just click this link:

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/thedeepfix

enjoy

austerity has hit mission control, times are tough, no fucking room to move, pan, the birds, the lizard and i are on rations, yes porridge for breakfast, salad for lunch and some sort of spinach pie for tea. 
stupid credit cards, saved my life but now we have to pay it all back before the bank comes and gets my blood. i have always hated being in debt, it's like a huge weighty thing that pulls me down dragging my body into the ground. ive managed to avoid it for so long and now i'm stuffed so out go all the non essential luxuries.
i'm lucky really, things could be worse.

now here's why i don't believe science can help us determine anything better than spirituality but in order for me to explain this i have to talk about something unrelated.
every year sydney hosts a 'festival of dangerous ideas' it's actually a festival of weak and feeble ideas from the usual suspects, but recently i read a book which was a compilation of dangerous ideas, and most of them were actually very dangerous.
however in one section, they spoke about science and in particularly a test used in psychology called the 'carriage test' where by they test peoples morality by putting them in a situation where they are witness to a runaway carriage. now this is about to hit a group of ten people but the observer can intervene and redirect the carriage so that it only hits one. most people chose to intervene because the utilitarian creed is deeply wired into us.
here's my take on it.
that one person you just killed may have in their future discovered a cure for cancer but now won't.
you just killed him because you attempted to save 10.
don't get me wrong, i would do the same thing, it's instinctive and natural but really in terms of the experiment it means nothing. 
what i am saying is science has not got all the parameters covered, it is one diminutional unless it is quantum. science can't be absolute, it's a metaphor for something else.
how about that for a dangerous idea?

i was asked to stand for the australian sex party but i'm not a citizen, very upsetting, they sent me a nice tee shirt but i am heartbroken, i want to enter the political world, i like the asp policies  i agree with them, libertarian ideals. that's what the liberals are supposed to be but fail. i want to kick up a stink about everything, education, for fucks sake, lets get back to educating kids about the classics, how to think about thinking, how to use logic and reason, the classics! let's get them using their imagination, learning music and how to care. give them real experiences with aboriginal culture, assist and educate the connection with landscape and feel part of something larger than a class room.
religion. mmm, i guess there are some sacred cows but the extremists can get fucked, for every stupid arrogant and hateful thing they say, the fine is banishment.
the refugee crisis, look i say open the door, two years compulsory working in the remote areas, building up infrastructure, paid a good wage after which they get a citizenship and their wage which after two years they can chose to spend how they wish. but they get more than that, no one can say they did not contribute.
international relationships - fuck you, we don't wanna know about your conflicts and wars and united nations, work it out yourself.
we gotta sort our own shit out, food and water. making sure people have shelter, work and community.
the laws can be scrapped, one law, be reasonable.
if your not reasonable i'm afraid you can go live in england.

anyway, i can't be prime minister so you can all breath a sigh of relief.

birds going nuts, dogs barking, some glitch in tranquility, nature's all of a sudden burst forth with noise and discord, what's going down? pan and i wader down to the river, but things start to settle down, some sort of incident in the animal kingdom.
nature detective mission on the case, i can see no ripples on the surface of the river, but i can hear a boat and it's getting louder, a tiny electric motor rips up harmony in my kingdom. i contemplate setting a trap, a string spanning across the width of the river, but the images of heads being flung overboard assists my tolerance levels.
i watch a small boat with two guys manoeuvre it's way down the waterway, fishing people, making a racket. no wonder the animals are spooked, humans interfering with the natural order, upsetting the balance of things, that's the problem on planet earth, we need to restore some balance. 
   

collision course, two great bodies, opposing forces, second law of thermodynamics, everything according to plan. 
what's the plan baby?
the plan is the two forces are not separated, they are not opposed, only by the mind. 

stillness ceases the mind,
wind echoes from some where else
leaves rustle an orchestral manoeuvre
the bird secret knowledge 
the insects industry
the dogs dream
the garden of eden is alive and well
the garden of eden is pulsing with life
the garden of eden is knowledge itself
the garden of eden is in your heart
the apple tree blues was a trick of the mind
the snake itself was the inner all seeing eye
the angels whispered in a language not heard
the woman and man played indifferently.

but now we know, both male and female
now we have knowledge and are separated
ironically we know nothing
ironically we have words to name things
ironically we think we know
ironically we have fallen 

only to rise.

sydney, the city, the emerald city is aptly named, it's stunning, watch the beautiful people adorn the beaches, the shopping is all glamorous marble malls and opulent window displays, everything here has a high price tag, even the $2 shop's are really $5 shops, the restaurants and bars packed with the eternally young wealthy sating an appetite that can never be met, a city that is good looking on the surface, sexy and expensive, glimmering with personalities and media grabs, everyone get's more than their fair share of 15 minites.
it wasn't always like this but the powers that be have turned sydney into the playground for the global rich. in sydney if your a banker, solicitor or real estate agent you are made, keys to the city, probably have good teeth and own at least two properties, one with a water view. 
well these young millionaires swarm the emerald city, and if they are not fabulously wealthy they are massively in debt, credit card eyeballs roll back with every chop it makes because cocaine is the urban poison of choice at this level, alcohol the one below.
every girl will whisper their secret desires when they are half naked, on their hands and knees, sucking a weekend line from their pocket mirror. they all want the sydney dream, to stay young and glam, to find a loaded cashed up uber rich man. to have the sex and the shoes that go with it, to star in their own soap opera, to drive the personalised number plate chic hybrid sporty 4 wheel drive, to be popular, desired and under the thin façade of some authentic sense of boredom they follow some spiritual wave but never disciplined enough for humility, the days spent sun baking on boats, the nights are champagne explosions, forging the memory with a movie like experience so far removed from any thing real, love becomes the cynics sword. 
yeah the emerald city of oz, superficial and over priced, spiritually bankrupt and corrupt to its shallow core. 
but like an inverse diamond the flawed city has some pockets of genuine beauty, it has light shining through the glamour, it's in the geography, and those in tune with it, you just gotta scratch away the surface sheen and get your fingernails dirty, you have to not look, you have to see.
i see you.
practice some detachment, avoid the cool and trendy fuckers, exhaust the hedonistic impulse unless it kills you, explore inner space, stay true to what you discover in your heart, acts of loving kindness open doors, it has currency you won't find on a stock market floor or in jimmy choo, it's all over sydney as the spirit fights back and it's guardians are the lovers, poets, the writers and musicians, the unholy, burning madmen, the jokers and the fools. and like every city that teems with people one has to find ones own tribe, and although mine is small it comprises of people whom have transcended the blind impulse of being something they are not. yeah i have some kooky friends, scattered throughout the place. down in south sydney val works deep in his laboratory, half evil genius, surrounded by chemistry sets and bass guitars, on the northern beaches are evan and gravy bones, completely unique and glorious individuals, true angelic beings. 
yeah a city is a city but when you have friends it's something else, a playground, medium, conduit, whenever i go out into sydney things happen, i meet someone, have an extraordinary experience, small interaction, a seed grows, chance encounters, serendipitous events, the dots connect, and after so many years a pattern forms, a picture reveals itself, sydney and i developed a relationship, i can access it, tap in to its information network just by walking the street, glebe point road, kings street, york street and the botanical gardens.
i'll often spend time in the bookshops of sydney, certain coffee shops, there's no uncertainty in sydney for me, i can travel through it's geography alone yet connected, people connect with me, strangers on a train, random encounters in the street, a throw away smile, a gaze across the road. sometimes i will loose myself in the gardens, down past the opera house, this is my favourite spot in sydney, summer time i will go with a book and just walk around looking at the trees and plants, watching bats, boats and people, caught up in the beauty of it all. sometimes i'll find a bench and sit and read until some one comes and joins me.
inside the emerald city, far removed from the world, a smug cocoon, amniotic fluid with beach and waves, yes sydney i am a child of the universe but on earth i inhabit sydney.

the bush, if you never saw the bush you would think it's just a bush, but the australian's tend to underplay everything in language, and the bush is basically forest. it can range from deep green old growth in tasmania to the red desert desolation on the centre but the bush out where i live is lush sub tropical and vibrating with the energy of life. it can also kill you, swallow you up and eat you alive, suck the flesh from your bones and send every atom of your body into the cosmic recycling process. 

the aboriginal people off australia understand the bush, they know how to survive it, and they have a relationship with the land that is beyond any civilisation western man can comprehend, it's an ancient relationship that certain indigenous people seem to have developed as their culture, caretakers of the planet.

the dmt tradition in aboriginal and south and north american indian is obvious to anyone who has explored these brain changing plants. the idea that the earth and therefore the land encompasses one dimensional space can be left behind in the same way a snake may shed its skin, the bush is alive, the earth is alive and sustaining everything upon it, it's an intelligent being, and we are basically just neurones firing away, connecting electrical impulses, some driven by a desire to become more conscious, become more aware, evolve oneself, others driven to the opposite impulse. 

theres no value in this, a scientist type mind will reject the idea of consciousness and attempt to reduce the relationship into its components. perhaps he may feel constructing a guidance missile has more value. ultimately the relationship one has with the planet and by extension the universe is the relationship one has with ones self. 

people mock the aboriginals because they have no technology, no culture that the west can relate to. 

but they have something, spend anytime out here and you will have to face up to the truth of it, these people have suffered at the hands of the western man.

on my arrival to australia i was most upset by the fact i never saw any aboriginal people, where were they?

they were living in the inner cities, in run down council areas, or the red centre, stung out on petrol fumes, drinking white mans poison, trapped in a cycle of self destruction, self loathing and abuse. the year i arrived the government launched an enquiry, it was called, 'black deaths in custody' and investigated the reasons why so many aboriginal people seemed to suicide while in jail. 

to me, a new arrival, the answer was obvious and it lay within the collective unconscious. here was a race of people that had never in 40000 years known enclosure, let alone four walls, the bars of a cell in the basement of a small outback police station.

the commission led to nothing, no real change, the aboriginal people's misery is turned into an industry of suffering, money thrown their way. that's the west for you, money or war, the answers to every malaise.

the situation of a disenfranchised community is still very relevant, things have not changed that much but there is a larger understanding occurring, where the bush is being understood, where the western man is glimpsing elements of the aboriginal consciousness and its relationship with the bush and by extension, the earth.

in the last few months i've started to manage a little plot of land, in the bush, i get it now, i really get it, the bush needs a caretaker, a caretaker needs the bush, just like a neurone needs a brain and a brain needs a neurone, start pulling weeds out, start clearing old fallen debris, start shaping and caring for the bush, and the bush will speak to you, it will reveal it's secrets and you will be amazed.

known predominately for it's beaches australia does have the best i've ever seen anywhere on earth, and i believe that like everything in life, you have to find the beach that suits you. everyone has a relationship with a specific beach, just like say a man would with a woman, get to know it's moods, ebbs and flows, find it's passivity, recognise it's gentleness and anger, respect and revere it, the beach ain't just a bunch of sand and water.
i fell in love with avalon, particularly north avalon where i surfed almost three times a day for about five years. to be honest i was never a board surfer, i didn't see the point of being perpendicular to the water choosing the body surfing concept and then once i got hold of a had fin i was obsessed with the idea of surfing just like all the board surfers out there.
i'd wake up early skip breakfast and head down to north avalon with my friend, we would start early while there were no people, summer days you wouldn't need no wetsuit, we would spend about two hours in there, crystal clear water, perfect statuesque waves, i'd learn how to negotiate them, build up my confidence, it was exactly like dating a beautiful woman, you needed to understand the flow, the nature of the wave, the energy that it contains, all that potential under the surface, you read it like a book, sometimes the science of it would baffle me, north east west, i mean okay i get it but to me these were just points on a map, angles. i was interested in the angels in the wave form, i was interested in the mental state a surfer has, the effect the wave has over a surfer, the attitudes the significance. let me tell you the first thing you learn is fear. yeah the ocean can kill, it don't mean to, it don't mean to swallow up your flesh and smash your bones on rocks, it has no intention, it just does what it does, it's a harsh mistress right, you gotta have some respect for it, and yourself, know your limits, don't push them to far, don't think you can outsmart the ocean that stuff has been around a lot longer than you. so respect the ocean is the first law of surfing. this can be broken down into a simple ritual.
stand where the ocean meets the sand, let the water gently wash over your toes, stay at that depth, a few inches while you focus on the horizon. now it's best you do this in your spot, i always chose north avalon as it had the best surf for body surfing, a nice little sand bank made the area just the right conditions. however one needed a ritual for focusing and gratitude, for you are about to change your element. so i'd breath in the air and let it go a few times, focusing on my breathing like a meditational class, all the time watching the horizon. obviously between here that the horizon the waves would break, you would choose a place that offered smaller waves with force over bigger waves with no force, this takes a little time to work out, but eventually you do. then in the exhale of one of those breaths you would see the pathway, it would be there, and you would step forwards, getting under the water as fast as possible, kicking out with your flippers until you where just where they break. 
the second law is to tune in to the feel, this requires some kind of zen obliteration. i've always said, a surfer is both a particle and a wave, therefore in the true nature of reality but you have to let that condition be inside you else it's resistant or resistance, and that inhibits the ride.
kick of before the wave, it's instinctive, comes with practice, and when you feel it you remember it, it's part muscle memory and part some sort of psychic ability, you just feel it, just like when your learning to drive and between manual gears you get that biting point, that's what you do, feel it and kick off.
there's nothing on earth that beats that feeling, riding waves, being the wave, it's joyful. surfing makes me think about three things, fundamentals, breathing, which was is up and are my board shorts still on. 
i loved the times i spend in the ocean at avalon, i loved that beach, and i have never found another like it. i had some near death experiences in the water, especially whale beach and once at palm beach but never avalon, avalon always loved me back.
later as i became more experienced i learnt meditations in the surf, charkra rituals, energy manipulation, magick baby, yeah i used the ocean as a medium, healing, inspirational and consciousness unbounded. the water fed me, nourished my soul and gave me life.

in complete contrast to newtown is my adopted home of avalon, on the northern beaches of the peninsula that sticks out from the mainland, surrounded by ocean on one side with their magnificent beaches and pristine landscapes, while on the other is pittwater, gentle little bay where all manner of sailing vessels traverse on their journeys but most just bob up and down moored permanently as playthings of the rich and glamorous. 
now avalon has changed dramatically over the years, it used to be a magickal place, like real magick, i'm pretty sure aboriginal people would classify it as a sacred space, the energy there is incredible, it's a sort of healthy version of what byron bay aspires to be, without the pretensions. it's powerfully healing the further north you travel from avalon, through to whale beach, and then palm beach where you come to the lighthouse. 
i used to clamber up that lighthouse everyday, having lived everywhere in that little area, my son and i spend a lot of time wandering along that coastal area, rock hopping, swimming and lighthouse adventuring, it was a magnificent backdrop for playing. 
i'd even spend hours in a float tank at palm beach, very intense sessions, being consumed by some friendly void but let's face it palm beach is defined by the people who live there and in them old days the people were amazing, yeah they were either very wealthy or struggling passengers like me, the thing is, you could never tell one from the other, there was no distinctions, the class war didn't exist. i was friends with some of the wealthiest people in australia, successful artists, their children, film directors, writers and a host of creative folk whom had opened up their lives and homes to folks like me.  
madame lash was one that springs to mind, a misunderstood person if ever there was one, she was so far ahead of her time, a brilliant mind, a talented artist and a very lovely lady. she hosted some pretty wild parties up at her place and always made me feel very welcome, once when i was homeless she let me stay, although i had to sleep in a dungeon, she even invited me for xmas dinner on many occasions and i assisted her form a new political party, the extra dimensionalists party, which stood against fred nile.
lash is a very well read woman, germanic lineage and capable of holding incredible conversations on any subject especially herself.
there were other personalities 'francis firebrace' the aboriginal artist and story teller whom also adopted me as a brother and gave me great insight into aboriginal australia, he was a great malcontent but always positive.
the beaches had its share of personalities, cults like the 'pod people' filtering trough the thin veneer of respectability, there was a something very californian about this stretch of geography, everyone open to new ideas of consciousness, and mind expansion, no wonder i felt so at peace here.
the one thing about the beaches that always filled me with wonder and replenished me each morning was the light. this place had its own light, bouncing from the waters across the villages, cafes, the small bakeries and bowling greens, the light was alive. i'd often surf in the mornings and be amazed at the water, so fresh and clean, waves breaking like perfect sculptures as a handful of us would be there, out with the dolphins as the rising sun came over the horizon.
night times to, a big old moon over the ocean, that chronoglide skyway across the water, stars filling the heavens, yeah avalon, whale beach and palmy have a special place in my heart.
but like all things change came, fast and unrelenting, real estate vampyres exploiting the area, the inner city cashed up idiots with to much money and no imagination moved in, no longer was it a place you would go out to get some milk, return home four days later, no it was now a place where if you have bare feet in the supermarket they pour scorn at you. if you didn't drive a black lexus you were excluded from the table. i began to loathe what was happening to this area, a lot of people just moved away, eventually i did, as i watched shops going under as the greedy landlords upped the rent. sydney suffers from a kind of soul eating ego disease these days, that cannot be denied, but none the less it has a natural beauty and grace and it is represented no less, than in the beaches.
i always said, 'no matter where you go, if you are a child of avalon, you will always carry avalon in your heart.' 
yeah there's a little van morrison in everyone.

every city has it's new town, and sydney has two, the newtown of my memories, and the one that exists now.
in the old days i frequented newtown, hanging out in lesbian bars and clubs with my friends who seemed to have adopted me for some reason. every night we would eat a huge meal at the singapore gourmet for 4 or 6 bucks. 
the sing gourmet was a strange place, tiny, no decor, very plain, plastic tables, printed menu on a4 paper stained with god knows what, it sat about 20 people maximum, all squished up together.
we would walk down, summer, winter spring and autumn with our ravenous appetites, walk through the front door where if we were lucky there was an empty table.
the steam from the kitchen was incredible, often filling out the whole room, making your eyes tear up and the chilli burning the back of your throat, the smell was so exotic and strange i would feel transported to some sort of asian dante's divine comedy, never really sure if i was in heaven, purgatory or hell as my sensory system adjusted to the environment of steam, noise, aromatic assaults and claustrophobic intensity. 
in the corner sat the old man, he must have been about 100 years old, always there on his table watching us through clear grey eyes.
one night i went over, said hello.
it turned out he was the owner, his wife the chief, they owned several big upmarket restaurants in sydney in the 70's all very successful and they closed them all and opened this one because they wanted to down size. he told the story with a sort of deserved pride and grace, and eventually as he knew i frequented the joint we became friends.
his wife knowing our tastes would just bring us out special dishes, stuff not on the menu, sometimes we would get a big steamed fish or some weird looking soup that tasted like an alien stew. they loved that we came every evening and appreciated their food. the girls would have this expectant joy on their faces, it was a real treat.
even when i moved away i'd sometimes drive in just to eat there and then one night i walked in and the wife told me her husband had died.
she kept going, cooking up a storm for about four years after but then broke the news she was closing up shop, the rates and rent were getting to high and she didn't want to put her prices up. 
that's the thing, newtown used to be alternative in the real sense, not an ideological thing, just a free thinking exciting place where people could express themselves without being fucking labelled or thrown in some sort of category. it was a bohemian epicentre, where the dandies could sit and share a pot of tea with the punks, where everyone who never fitted in could just be accepted, there were no politics, no methods or gurus, it was a real community. 
newtown changed just before the olympics, they cleaned it up, raised all the rents and moved the yuppie scum in, so like all underground parts of cities newtown eventually became a different culture. don't get me wrong, it's still funky and cool but it's lost it's authenticity, that moved over to petersham and annadale. 
another great spot was the bank hotel where i used to hang out in the cocktail bar on wednesday nights with some very cool ladies, what a special spot that was until they refurbished it and tore its spirit out.
newtown has some great shops, a few second hand bookshops i frequent but down the st. peters end is the fijian shop where i get my coconut fix. the fiji shop is wonderful for the spices and herbs it stocks, and right across the road is the indian shop where i can stock up on my ayurvedic gear and illegal indian herbs. 
i like this end of newtown as no one ever goes down it, none of the trendy sheep bother with this end, it's just the one spot we lone wolves can hang out.
these days whenever i am passing through king street i stop into the italian place opposite the new theatre. i've never really been a big lover of italian food, but these guys do some great pastas and on a summer night you can sit outside on the street and watch the people pass by. i've always met interesting strangers there, and had some amazing encounters with random civilians walking the kings street.
if your a visitor to sydney i'd say visit kings street, see the inner city pulse and the mix of diverse people who inhabit it. there's bound to be something there you would fall in love with.

when i first arrived in sydney my in-laws drove me over the harbour bridge from the airport, i was underwhelmed. it's a big metal bridge, next to a strange spiky opera house over some water. it was a few months later that i began travelling across on my own, down the cahill expressway. now the thing about the bridge is to catch it when there is no traffic, it's just a very smooth drive under a criss cross of architecture that begins to grow on you the more it's traversed. it has a strange history, a man called francis de groot rode up on horseback the day the ribbon was to be cut and he beat the prime minister in slashing the ribbon with a long silver sword. he said he opened the bridge on behalf of the people of new south wales and was promptly arrested, fined five pounds, given a psychiatric assessment declared sane which was later reversed. he then went on to sue the police for wrongful arrest and was awarded an out of court settlement, having won his case. 
now as i drive across the bridge i always think of this chap, slightly eccentric spirit, on horseback charging into authority against the odds and winning. this to me sums up australia and everytime i drive over the bridge i give a salute to old de groot, the guy was one of the many personalities that inhabit australian history's underbelly. he don't get no tv show made after him, he won't get the girls, he probably won't even get a look in at skools, but to me he's an example of why i love this city.
the bridge itself has it's own moods and changes depending on the time of day and weather conditions. i've driven over at midnight on new years under an exploding sky as fire works rain down and colour lights up the whole vista, sometimes in the rain it's eerie and in fog i'm transported to some victorian nether world, but mostly in late afternoon sunlight its spectacular.
i always choose the bridge over the tunnel, unless i'm heading to the airport, it links sydney's north to the city, and bridges the incredible waterways of the harbour.
these days people climb over the bridge, in some sort of tourist trap, not something i'd consider, to me it's a structure of resounding beauty despite it's overwhelming metallic energy, from underneath in the luxury of a nice sea fairing vessel the bridge towering above, and you can't help but be impressed by human engineering. this is a bridge that trolls can't live under, it's a bridge that don't belong in fairy tales and children's stories, it's real worldly and reeks of human achievement and toil. 
then there's the toll.
now the toll puts a kibosh on the bridge because even though it's  cash free and electronically deducted from your account it's the sinister invisible hand of government reminding you of your civic duty, from which there is no escape, they have satellites looking into your soul. 
once you leave the bridge into the city, there's a few multiple choice exits, you can head over the glebe island bridge driving past the offices watching people slaving away at their desks and cubicles and then catch a glimpse of darling harbour or you can take the exit that goes straight into the city centre but i usually head down the exit that slips past the opera house and circular quay, here you get a sprawl of ferries all lined up waiting to fill up and depart, sometimes one eases in from manly and you can see the hordes of people leaving. i like that flow of transit, the waterways conducting traffic, access all areas, trains buses ferries and foot. sydney welcomes people with beauty, sure it can throw you out with the trash to but the trash is glamourous and kinda sexy to. yeah superficial city until you pierce it's fabric and get over all that surface gleam. 
the city is divided up into tribes, the rocks is the oldest part, some sort of english historical area where i never really go, although there is a modern art gallery there. at night it's filled with drunk people, and the pubs all pump out pub rock songs. i can't say i'm attuned with the rocks, possibly it's a bit to artificial for me, except one night the church played a free concert there, outdoors and whenever i go there these days i am cast back to that performance where they played, 'you took' for the first time in ages. 

recently i drove along the back streets of an outer sydney suburb looking at the trees ablaze in autumn light, sparkling leaves bursting through with some sort of divine fire. i stopped the car and looked around at the nature on both sides of this street and it was truly beautiful.
it's not until you go outside of australia and return to gain a perspective on how incredible this place is, i know, we don't have the european history etched into every statue and building but we have something here, it's ancient and it's represented by the dreamtime.
i've fallen in love with australia again, my little patch, sydney and the central coast. who could ask for a better city, vibrant and exciting, pulsing with a vivacious sexy energy. in the next few posts i'm going to try to write about sydney, i may repeat stories i have told and ideas i have written years ago in this here blog, but i want to write a homage to a place that i will now call home.

city of tiny demons, city where money dwells, histories a weeping for the city that never tells. streets of ancient secrets, the roads may lead to rome, but one thing is certain my darling, i'm heading home, back to the sun and the blue skies, back to the bush and the cane, over poseidon sleeping and not to return again.
ah it's good to be here, back home in australia doing my thing, pottering around playing in the gardens and sandy expanses, watching crashing waves as surfers wipe out. 
it's the edge of the world here in no man's land, it's remote and isolated but it's unspoilt and beautiful, wild and unconquerable.
i'm at peace here, on the edge of the treelines, the ocean crash, amongst the reptilian agendas, laying in the sun, smoking my spliff, being still.
there's no chaos here, there's a vast difference between being hacked to death and having your head cut off by an angry idiot in broad daylight than being eaten by a shark or bitten by a snake. give me the fabric of nature, the mesmerising cloud display as light fractures itself through water, the strange stormy veils that cruise in as the pressure changes each evening. home is where the heart is, and mine is here, in australia, in nature and the frontier territory, speaking to the shaman within me, yeah all that city interference fucks you up, clogs the brains neural pathways with junk. yeah you can keep all that city vibe for the perplexed, the distracted. the generation of detached. 
me i'm plugged into something real and it's plugged into me.

in the deepest of dreams i was reunited with tim, in england of all the places, at my parents old home. i don't quite know how i met him, but he was there, he wanted to buy some shoe laces but refused to shop at any large shop. i took him to a small independent place. we returned home and he had a sleep, i went out to work.

my job was a strange new job working as a door to door salesman or delivery man. i could never be certain exactly what i was doing, picking things up or dropping things off. embedded in this job was another job, distributing marijuana to people who were in pain, terminally ill, post traumatic war veterans. the frail and old, chronic arthritis sufferers, lonely depressed housewives and any one who was in any kind of pain.

on my way to one pace i passed a moor where very large eagles sat in a thick low laying mist, you could see the tops of their heads sticking out from this blanket of cotton wool fog. 
the grounds were being used for construction in the very near future, the moors needed clearing and a small team of environmental people had the government sponsored task of capturing and relocating the eagles. i watched them working and then made my way to the next appointment. on the way i stepped over an area that was wet and connected two large lakes, down in the dirt i saw what appeared to be an iphone. it rang, glowing incandescently under a layer of muddy water. i didn't answer it but picked it up and thought to return it to its owner if i could work out whom it belonged to.

then i made my deliveries, some sexy housewives in skimpy french numbers, some tragically sick frail people, and two young brothers, all seemed to know me, some were giving me bundles of art, others complained about the slowness of the company i worked for, some offered me a joint and some hungrily accepted the  bags of grass i tossed at them, offering me a roll of cash.

later i returned home and tim was up and about, he was struggling with the laces.

i made him something to eat, my brother came home and i introduced him. i spoke about how i thought he was dead, how it upset me, and how i moved away from everything i know. i told him about that strange walk i had through avalon where everyone came out to hug me and how i never went to the funeral. tim laughed out loud, he said he had just left and gone to india. he looked the same, huge, bald and dressed gregariously but he was somewhat softer, more gentle. i asked him bout the david ikce book he had been reading. he reached the same conclusion as i had, i asked him if he would stay around and he said yes. my mother appeared and tim introduced himself, they spoke for a while, and then tim and i decided it was time to return to australia. outside his car sat, the same old beaten up black bmw.

in my dream i was happy, i had found my friend again.

when i woke up i wrote this, i don't know what it means yet, i think in some ways it just means tim is somewhere, existing in some form, and he wants me to know he's okay.

as far as the eagles, well the crow symbolised tim's death so i'll intuitively leap to the eagle being a rebirth. perhaps tim returned this morning, with a new body, perhaps he will seek me out as before. perhaps the phone was a communication symbol, the mist obscure and mysterious other worldly. perhaps the shoe laces are the ties that connect us, perhaps its wishful thinking on my part but i feel reconciled now.

when a singularity bomb explodes there is no noise from a blast, it just creates a small portal from which anti matter leaks into our universe. part of the antimatter is the past, the past leaking into the present time colliding in a way it was never designed to. the radiation emits in a 360 degree radius, it doesn't stop unless the fracture is healed and what has changed remains, it can't be undone. i imagined the city would be over run with this type of energy, morphed into something unimaginable, i was not sure if any life could survive it. we had outrun the leak, but we would always need to keep moving forwards, attempting to get further away, but in the back of my mind the awful truth was taking hold, the further we get away from it the closer we head towards it.

i stood over the seeping cat girl, part of me wanted to wake her, and take her with me, running until time itself runs out. but it was better to let her sleep, in a few hours the singularity energy would wash over her, it's better if she didn't see it coming. i looked for the cat, it was nowhere in sight.
as i reached the door she spoke, 'fuck you mister, you can't leave me here.'
i stopped in my tracks, 'there's no way out from this, we can outrun it but it will catch us.'
'then why are you running away'
'i'm not i'm going back to the city, right back to the centre of the singularity.'
'the what!'
i explained what had happened, the way the military had developed this device, experimental weaponry. something must have gone wrong. she listened but i don't think she really believed me, the cat leapt up into her arms, the sun started to hack into the room past the blinds in strange laser like lines.
'i'm coming with you, maybe i can help.'
'well i'm just warning you, there's no telling how this will effect us, we will change, our molecular structure may mutate, our faces may melt, i just don't know.'
'what are you going to do in the singularity.'
'i'm not certain, but i will try to stop it, somehow, plug it at least, there must be a way.'
'we have nothing to loose but time.'
i waited for her to get dressed, we drove back the way we came, back to what was once a beautiful city.

before dawn we pulled into a small cottage, it was a one bedroom hideaway, on high ground. abandoned by whomever lived here, no trace of their identity left, not a clue except they were efficient when it comes to stripping their home, even the light bulbs were missing. i found a few candles and lit them, i checked the water, it would take a couple of hours for the boiler to kick in, so i made a comfortable bed up and got some sleep on the sofa while cat girl and her furry friend slept on the mattress in the bedroom.
i wandered around a little, then fell asleep on the sofa. 
as i drifted off, events began to focus. it started about 20 years ago, the building, and although the construction was kept hidden from the public we all knew it was there. when they unveiled it of course it was just a regular government building but information has a habit of leaking and most people with their ear to the ground knew it was some sort of experimental military project. some said it was a place they did research on aliens, others suggested it was a vast network of computers, echelon, monitoring all tele communications in the southern hemisphere, others said it was a stargate type wormhole, designed to make interstellar travel possible and then the blue prints leaked out.
no one was really sure what it was except it was a portal, the design was non human, no one could understand it. it was posted online on various sites and the comment threads all seemed to speculate and then it began to gain exposure. first a breakfast tv station showed it as a novelty item and asked people to phone in their ideas in a competition. government spokespeople gave their five cents worth and denied any covert operation and then during a live interview one of the scientists who worked there confessed it was a weapon, a singularity bomb. no one took him seriously, i mean what the fuck is a singularity bomb?
people laughed, the media went nuts, the scientist was dismissed as a crackpot. he shot himself, blew his skull up with a sawn off shot gun, people wrote books about the singularity hoax and then months later when everyone stopped talking about it, it detonated. actually detonated implied an explosion, singularity bombs don't actually explode, they leak.
i guess you could call it anti matter, it pours into our world like an invisible gas, altering everything, changing the properties of matter. 

heavy rainfall, city drenched in water, coming up through the ground, sweeping in across the roads and pavements. i make a dash for the car, i'm wrapped up in my new raincoat. water droplets explode on my coat and face like a war zone, vision blurred, the car headlights from the street appear like light blasts. i fumble with my keys and slide inside. 
the highway is chaos, cars stacked up in a graveyard of metal, warped doors hanging of their hinges, broken window screens and waterlogged audis, bmws, hondas and fords. my radio is static with the occasional intermittent blast of hysteria, industry blues i guess. 
i slip in some appropriate music, 'we are the pigs' chimes out loud. a girl with a shaved head runs out of some dark foggy rain, she's holding a kitten. i open the door and let her jump in next to me, 'buckle up.'
i slam my foot down hard, no point in sticking around, my wipers working overtime, back and forth, hardly worth it as the water falls for a moment i imagine i'm underneath the water.
a truck moves past me, and a wave hits us on the side. it sends my car veering to the left, i let go of the wheel and let it come to a rest. the girl shrieks but keeps cool. it's a moment to shriek. the car slides sideways to a stop, we didn't hit anything and i head back onto the outer lane, moving free from the debris and car wrecks, heading north. the girl strokes the cat, the cat stretches out near the heater which blows out hot air. 
the rain starts to ease, my wipers work hard, i switch my headlights on and enjoy the road. in the distance up above, clear cloudless skies, a big full moon hanging in the sky. i pull out my moon powered zap gun, time for a recharge.

i must take this moment to say thank you to my two friends, tez and jeanie in brighton. these guys are beautiful people and i love them both, i'm really grateful that they were there for me. cheers guys, i had a lot of laughs, and this one's for you.

the shadow's encircle me, i trudge through the forest, grumbling and complaining the words of her majesty rotating and spinning through my head like an irritating song. the crystal sword begins to glow slightly and in the moonlight probably looks quite beautiful but i'm to miserable to appreciate it.

i find myself whistling and then suddenly stop as i ponder how i came to be living in a clique childhood tale. of course i had spent many years pondering my situation, regret weighed down on my like a heavy tombstone, two snorts had changed everything, sentenced me here for eternity.

although i had learnt how to live here i still never quite felt contentment, i never found peace or stillness and my life was filled with a longing to return home. but home was chaos, it was a place of war, greed, envy. t was a place where time ran out, it was a place where the skies were filled with pollution and the warring tribes bleating like sheep in an abattoir. i must confess my heart was conflicted. 

i attempted to be positive, after all fairy folk are always positive, there's the music, the books, the wonderful films people make, there's my friends...

i wandered deeper into the darkness, even the strange washed out moonlight failed to penetrate the darkness of the dark lands, and there i saw peering right out of the sky a pair off eyes. 

big red eyes towering above me, i steadied myself, thrust my sword forwards to illuminate. it was a monstrous shape, bulky and irregular but bipedal. i could see it's outline, make out thick layers of fleshy flab and fine sharp teeth, gnashed in shock as it watched me, long cheeks hanging down jowls wobbling as it made a grunting sound and loomed in closer to inspect me closer.

'what are you little thing, not a fairy that's for certain as i can be now.'

the voice was in contradiction to it's physical shape, seemingly friendly.

i considered its question, 'i am an explorer, just passing through.'

it brought it's large chubby fingers up to it's chin and looked bemused, 'well ex..ex..porer, this here is troll territory and you are trespassing.'

'ah so you are a troll then?'

'i'm a troll alright, ha ha,' i watched it shake as it laughed out, stomping from foot to foot finding something hilarious in my question, 'and mr. ex-porer what do you taste like?'

'i'm not fit for troll consumption actually, highly poisonous.'

the thing now stopped laughing and grabbed me with its fat hand bringing me up to it's face for a closer look.

'not fit for trolls. not fit for trolls hey trespasser, what shall i do with you, snap your bones and boil you up.'

about now i confess being very frightened, off course living in the fairly lands had desensitised me to a lot of this nonsense but i ad never been so close to a trolls mouth before and as i waved my sword about i could make out the pointy teeth were filthy yellow, rotting and the stench of trolls breath was enough to make me feel nauseous.

i looked at the sword and for a moment thought i could at least use it to plunge into the trolls fingers and then if my plan worked he would drop me and i could run off, but i was here for a reason and i needed to deal with the situation in confidence.

'listen troll, listen to me before you do anything hasty. we ex-porers are very poisonous and if you eat me or boil me you will die immediately a very painful death so put me down and i will tell you what i will do for you.'

the troll contemplated this, i could see the dim slow machinery of his mind, a piece of string and some old wooden cogs turning slowly as he considered my words.

okay when i say slow i mean really slow and i began to think he may just be to dim to take self preservation seriously, so i jabbed him hard with the sword, like rally hard, plunging it down into his hand.

i had enough time to withdraw the sword before he dropped me in shock and let out a bellow.

i fell onto my back and watched him hop around, tears streaming out of his eyes, 'you hurt me, my poor hand hurts.'

'yes, i didn't want to hurt you troll, that's why you must not eat me or harm me, for i am very poisonous for trolls.'

'your one of those pesky fairies ex-porer,' he whimpered,' come to hurt poor old troll.'

'fairies don't hurt trolls you know that. that's why you eat them, your a bully troll.'

'those bleeding unseelie's do hurts us trolls, we hate em ex-porer. are you unseelie?'

'no i don't know who they are but i wont hurt you, i came here to make you a special soup, a gift.'

'special soup, gift for troll, what trick is this.'

'why it's no trick at all, in fact i'll drink it with you and then you will know it's no trick.'

'mmm, troll is hungry, troll can't eat ex-porers bones because they are to poisonous,' he seemed to have forgotten about the stab wound and now appeared interested in my offer.

'what kind of soups is it?'

'a special soup for trolls. now be quick and get me your cauldron, i'll also need some vegetables, but no bones.'

the beast went clumping off into the darkness, i would only have a few hours before the sun rises so i immediately opened up my bag and started preparation.

he had brought me a pile of what i would say were yams, sweet potatoes, cauliflower's and barley, he offered them to me and proceeded to build a fire, placing the huge water filled cauldron on it's centre.

i added some garlic to the water, a few drops from a small bottle of sweet water which incidentally works on a homeopathic principle. i also added some of my herbs and then very carefully added the barley and the vegetables, finally sprinkling the heated mixture with my special ingredient. 

this better work i thought, else i will be in the pot.

the troll seemed to get excited, he was obviously hungry and in need of a meal. he danced around in a circle, singing, just like in a children's book i'd read when i was a child eons ago. 

i encouraged him to dance and yes i confess i joined in to, dancing around the cauldron like an idiot, hoping he would tire and his resistance wear down.

occasionally he would kneel down and stir the pot with a huge wooden spoon. then as the pot began to bubble i showed him the soup was safe but taking a sip from the spoon as he held it for me.

i can't say it tasted great, it's didn't but there was enough marijuana in there to put an entire country to sleep, and it was very strong.

the fairy marijuana is perfect, it's biodynamic, grown with love and the added magic faire use to make everything special. 

immediately i felt the narcotic effect as my lips warmed up and my body seemed to lighten itself.

'perfect,' i proclaimed, at which the troll picked up the cauldron and drained it dry gulping it down like a greedy, err troll i guess.
i watched him as he stumbled over laying on the ground with his tongue hanging out, his eyes rolling around looking for something to fixate on, which was of course me. i walked up to his face.
'no listen troll i made you a special soup and soon you will be fast asleep dreaming beautiful troll dreams but first you must tell me how i get home, back to the place i came from.'
i confess he was so discombobulated he could hardly get his words out, but he mentioned something about standing in a crystal circle and in the first ray of sunshine my hearts desire would come true, like a wish, he pointed to the woods, follow the path. 
there didn't seem any reason to distrust him although my experience with these trolls was negligible. as i backed away he asked, 'what are you ex-porer?'
'i'm a human,' i replied, 'just a human.'
he looked at me with a deeply penetrating look that and then he just said, 'the humans are the real trolls,' his eyes closed and he fell into a heavy sleep, snoring loudly.
as i prepared myself and started walking along the pathway i began thinking about his words, after all life here in the fairy realm was particularly different from my own and offered much more in the way of harmony and peace than in my own civilisation. i wouldn't have to ever deal with taxes, telephones and stupid cars. what was i doing, it was crazy, attempting to find my way back to the madness, when here i could be, happy. 
i found myself at the circle of stones, a mini stonehenge, beautiful crystals glowing with the fading moonlight. i sat in the middle of the circle and focused on my heart, waiting for the sun.
i must have sat there for forty minutes or more focusing on my breathing steading my mind. my hearts desire. when the sunlight hit me it was dazzling, i closed my eyes and knew when i opened them i would return, right back to the beginning, where i pace around worrying about my jazz cigarette situation. i could feel something happening, something special, sparkles, i imagined opening my eyes, i imagined seeing my friends, the witches and drinking their strange bitter teas, i imagined pacing up and down with a pile of unpaid bills. i opened my eyes! 

i don't know how long i spent in the fairy realm, it felt like years, years passing by, a lifetime, many lifetimes. i learnt to play the mandolin  i learnt to use a wand, yeah real magick not that complex chaos stuff, the real fairy kind, i even married a few of the cute little sprites, reared children, went a wandering, translated a few occult volumes from ancient faire to modern english. but i also wandered the realm, roaming like a mythological figure, from village to village, i even started a religion based on sex, but despite all these things i grew bored, restless and melancholic.
i missed my old life, the human one. yeah the one where i'm fighting telstra, struggling to pay my bills, the one where i get angry over politics and write stupid posts on my facebook page, i missed my son, he would probably be a grandfather by now, time slows down in this dimension. 
i had build a nice little place, a dwelling, near the lake of 'tranquil compassion.' it was made from honey oak and walnut trees, a kinda shack. i sat there in the afternoons, playing with the dragonflies and watching the sunsets with some of my fairy wives.
i mean these fairy women are pretty liberal when it comes to relationships and i figured i may as well indulge myself, there has to be some advantages, being trapped here, right?
we had feasted on honey cake and sweet water from the wells of joyful infinity and i guess were in a slight stupor  i was trying to light a fire with my wand, but the energy was somewhat mutated from to much hedonism and the pile of coals just kept transforming into various metals.
she arrived almost silently, it was the strange breeze and change in air currents that warned me she stood behind me.
'hey, long time no see your majesty.'
'i see you have made yourself quite comfortable captain.'
'yeah well i work at it.'
'well i bring good news, shall we sit down?'
'yeah yeah, go ahead make yourself comfortable, i'll get you a glass.'
she zapped the pile of zinc and it burst into flames, only now the zink was coal, i went to pour her a drink.
'it's been a long time, you haven't aged a bit.'
'we don't age here, one of the benefits of fairy land.'
'mmm, well i've discovered many benefits but i do miss home. you know i'd only just arrived back from an overseas trip. how many human years have i been here?'
'it's possible it is thousands.'
'mmm, wow, i wonder what it's like, those crazy humans would have either wiped themselves out or left the planet by now.'
'well that's what i need to talk with you about,' she took a sip of sweet water and looked at me seriously, 'there is a way back.'
'i'm not sure i wish to go back now i know thousands of years have passed.'
'you would return to the same point you vanished.'
'okay, that's got me interested.'
'well it's somewhat irregular but i requested my councillors investigate, they in turn have come up with the one and only way home for you, however you won't like it.
'i think i should hear it first, don't you?'
'quite. captain mission, basically you have to capture a troll.'
'that's ridiculous! there's no such thing as trolls.'
the fairy queen smiles at me, 'yes, there are, very very rare to sight one but they exist. they are the enemy of my people. they inhabit the shadow lands where we found you, usually they eat trespassers and often they will catch fairies as well.'
'what do they do with the fairies they catch?'
'trolls eat everything, they suck the marrow from bones and then boil the bones and make a soup, they are vile disgusting things.'
'so how does that help me.'
'well research indicates that if you capture one and spare it's life it has the duty to offer you one wish.'
'mmm, and how does one capture a troll.'
'that i can't answer. however, on a full moon like tonight, it's likely one would be out in the shadow lands looking for food.'
'fucking hell your majesty, you just keep bringing me the good news don't you.'
'i can take you there but i can't enter tonight, not on a full moon. the trolls would rip me apart.'
'trolls, fucking fairies and trolls!'
i looked around at my sleeping wives, my little cabin, i grabbed my shoulder bag, stuffed it full of potions i thought may come in handy and i laced up my boots. yes. did i mention that all fairies wear boots? you have to believe me i tell you no lies. 
so the queen and i transported ourselves over to the edges of the shadow lands, with a bag full of herbs and a crystal sword i prepared myself to catch a troll.
we materialised on the edges of the dark lands, already the temperature seemed to be falling as the eerie ambience of the forest weeped out, aevil stood hugging herself, looking around nervously.
i gave her a hug, 'go your majesty, no point in hanging around. it's been a pleasure to meet you and if i make it back perhaps you will remember you and your people have a friend in the human realms.'
she hugs me tightly and bats her green eyes in a sexy girlish kinda way that is slightly disconcerting. as i step into the darkness i hear her whisper, 'remember the code.'