perhaps i can assist you in your hidden desires, i'm good at that. let's see we just edit a film together. here's how it would look. a hardcore porn film intercut with images of the holocaust, global islamic terror (from the hijacking of aircraft and ocean liners to the stabbing of christian clerics in sydney, there's beheadings, isis, hezbollah, hamas, we show images of october 7th, rape, murder, kidnapping and general mayhem intercut with women fucking, sensual sounds, hardcore sex and orgasm spliced into jew death. the murder of jews as pornography, that's what you really want isn't it?

go on admit it. deep down in your heart, that's what turns you on. 

maybe i should start my own porn hub channel. while you study humanities, work for that united nations charity, write for the guardian or host your own show on the abc or bbc, while you create your tik tok bullshit or march down the streets each weekend protesting on behalf of the genocidal hamas but condemning israel, you can discreetly get off to your chosen secret porn channel. i know it's what you really desire, and you know i'm a liberal open minded guy. no judgements here, just some honesty, openness and truth. 

i know your dreams baby. the things that get you wet and hard. the secret stuff you almost feel ashamed about, but not to much. hey, i'm human, it's just a repressed impulse urges that need to surface. baby, i'm a safe space, all you have to do is suscribe to 'jew hate love death porn hub' and you can decolonialise your unconcious needs as much as you want. 

with a breathable atmosphere and severe landscape we went as a team, the medic, the android, the scientist and me, the captain. our instruments showed no signs of life but there were structures that were not formed by nature. these towered into the stratosphere, strange gothic towers that spiralled and curved almost defying gravity. as we landed we took a close look at them, with their opaque portals and organic surfaces, it was almost like a petrified limb of some life force but there was nothing indicating technology or life. whatever this was it had been dead a long time.

it was the medic who proposed a small exploration party, he suggested we explore the rugged mountain range out near the edge of the dead sea, a vast expanse of what could well have been water but now left as black sand and rock. there was no colour here, just shades of black and brown. he was keen to get into the substructure, and his curisoty as an amatur archelogist paid dividents. i was reluctant at first but it did seem ridiculous to have come so far without a surface exploration. i sought reassurance in the wisdom of the android who suggested we time our first walk to three hours (earth time) and then explore the next day up to five hours, and finally a seven hour trek. 

it was now the final trek, into our fifth hour, soon we would have to return and we had seen nothing of real consequence. a dead landscape and these towers reaching upwards, no clouds, little sun, no life. having extra augmented vision the android could scan the terrain in a number of alternative spectrums, it was a clunky old thing, shaped in human form but it's movements were odd and out of rhythm. however without it we would be at a huge disadvantage for it had saved us on many occasion.  no one knew where it came from or who constructed it, it was something we had found wandering around with a wiped memory aboard an abandoned ship many years ago. we saved it and our technicians managed to give it a basic program, and  the chance to create new memories. we collectively agreed we would never tell it, it was an android, we would just accept it as a crew member with equal status, and consequently like all androids would, it questioned its identity often, noticing many differences between organic bodies and it's own. recently it had settled into thinking it was just different but equal, a disability perhaps, but it understood it was amongst friends. the biggest leap in it's own growth was the emergence of dreaming. this surprised us all.

'there is a crevice seventeen clicks to the north west, it seems very deep and leads to ancient rock strata, this may give us some indication of the history of this world. i think we should investigate.'

we were all bored and tired so a chance of scenery seemed like a good idea, although i didn't want to go to deep. the idea of caving on an unknown mysterious planet seemed a little risky, but i thought my friend iggy in japan would just say, 'don't take care, take risks,' so i agreed.

we clambered awkwardly over the rocks making our way east until the entrance loomed in front of us. it was a dark slit in the rockface of a mountain, the sonar and spectrograph said it was very deep and part of a large network. i sent a couple of probes in but  when they returned the imaging was to blurry to see detail, save for a series of glimmering lights. 
'what is that?' the medic asked.
'it's a reflection. the drones lights are being reflected in something reflective.' the android responded. 'it could be polished stone, mirror, water or some kind of glass.'
'how far away is it?' i asked.
'we can make it in an hour, depending on terrain but there's no telling what sort of obstacles are in there.'

and so we found ourselves in the abyss. 

my body was weary, it was hard going, not just physically but mentally, we could only see a few feet in front and there was no telling what lay ahead. the android had several instruments which would indicate dangers but dangers could take any form and i felt responsible for everyone. as it happened we seemed to be walking along a natural corridor. in parts it was very narrow but comfortable enough to manage without any problem. 

my breathing became constant, deep and regular, calming any tension. above me flew the probe with it's array of lights. as we turned around what seemed like a corner, the reflections became visible and i halted the team.

'let's attempt a np flare,' see what we can see.

the android suggested aiming it above as the chasm seemed so deep. 

as the flare ignited, all was revealed, the foreboding  megalithic tombs embedded in the rock. they rose above us, filling the chamber with an awe, each inscribed with various hieroglyphs and markings, the vestige of panelling and technology, what were these, chambers, small ships, coffins, i wondered as we passed by collecting as much information as possible.

'let's stay 30 minites get as musch footage as possible and then head back, we can return tomorrow.'

everyone agreed. 

the ass has fallen out of the modern world, and as i read it's entrails i just see the looming death throes as populations just cannot get to grips with reality of what has occurred in the last decade although i have been watching it's decent since 1988. now i understand it goes back further to the jfk assassination when the cia or deep state started to influence politics domestically and internationally. but it goes back even further if one wants to follow the subtle machinations of the deep state, who are basically nazi's. hear me out.

many of the western leaders were very sympathetic to hitler, in fact they openly supported him, especially in regards to two things, eugenics and jews. the queen of england can be seen parading around as a young girl sieg heilling with her parents on the lawn. the ruling classes still clung to empire and saw the lower classes as uneducated workers, cannon fodder and petty criminals. the only reason the uk went to war against hitler was because the majority of people (the public)  opposed him,  the govt. had already attempted to make peace given the uk was to be under british rule after the conquest of europe. the evidence is in folks, the establishment loved hitler. 

business loved him to, the industrial machine saw his technocratic possibility to embrace the machine. the nazi's are described as a well oiled machine. and they were, a mass of moving parts all focused upon conquest and death towards gypsies, people with disabilities including autism, gays and jews. i defy anyone who disagrees with me to walk through yad vashem and come out unscathed. the pope declined. the royal family declined, i'm sure roger waters would too.

the one thing europe would love to do is wash it's hands of the shame, but it is history. churchill was not a good guy, he was forced into accepting the british public's perception of hitler and began to see an opportunity for himself,  hence he never liberated any death camp, he left that to the russians and americans. 

after europe and usa entered the war, lines were drawn, and by it's imagined conclusion, as new lines were drawn it was russia that became the enemy, communism. 

germany, england and the usa all had one enemy now, hence the ratlines, operation paperclip and the show trial of nuremberg where only a handful were brought to trial, the rest just given high ranking positions in nato or nasa. just look at the children of these nazis, now holding office in governments in america and canada, and their recent history is one of colour revolution, fascism and dictatorship. ie victoria nuland and chrystina freeland. 

the bankers that supported the nazi's were not jewish bankers, they were swiss, swedish, english and american, not run by jews. that's a fact. at this point in times jews could not join a country club let alone be allowed to run a bank.

the nazi machine, the national socialists merged with the international socialist agenda in recent times, taking great inspiration from china a country that really is a well oiled machine where the communist party control their population with technology, death camps and strict conditions like social credits. hence various leaders in the west who publicly admire china. a society where the people serve the government. 

nowadays we see how these technocrats control media, run propaganda and cancel it's enemies in the most brutal 'disguised as civilized' ways. 

cancel culture, racist, sexist, denier... all these labels carry with them a certain gravity if contemporary  'society' labels you this. i have been labeled all of them although i can't be cancelled as i am not a media head or famous. however as soon as i get to many followers i will be. as soon as i begin to influence you in the counter narrative i will be a threat. i am banned in china so that's a start.

free speech. while i hear many people speak about the need to control or limit free speech those same people always allow for one exception, the jews who are hated by the left and the right, blamed for all the ills upon the world. far to powerful a people for to small a percentage. they rule the world, wars, banks, american the media, it never ceases, on and on, a pointless pathology of lies, envy and misdirection, for as soon as it suits either side, the word antisemitism is used as if they actually cared about jews. unfortunately most jews can't see they are just pawns in a larger game, and they are just as lost at sea as most other people. the info war is wide, and deep. there's a rule for the internet called rule 34 which states 'internet porn exists for every topic.'

it's variations are:

rule 34. there is porn of it

rule 34. if it exists there is porn of it.

rule 34. if you can imagine it it exists as internet porn

rule 34. if it exists there is a subreddit devoted to it

it's corollaries are:

rule 35. the exception to rule 34 is the citation of rule 34

rule 35. if there is no porn, it will be made

rule 36. there will always be more fucked up shit than what you just saw

so if we tweak the rule to a few more obviously noticeable numbers

rule 3. it's always the jews even when it's not

rule 3a. if it's negative relative to the readers own ideology, it's always the jews

rule 3b. eventually some jews even think it's the jews

rule 3c. it takes only 3 comments in before jews are mentioned.

corollaries

rule 4. jews are interchangeable with isreal

that's basically the facts. cancel me, but the facts remain.

shadows. they flicker on the edges, they move in and out of sight, hiding behind other dark areas, stretching out into my world, contracting back into others, always just out of sight, always avoiding the retina's memory. imagine the jekell to mr. hyde. we all have a shadow, jung understood this and suggested we meet it. 
set in contemporary times, a young professional let's say the daughter of a famous politician starts having strange episodes as a young girl. hallucinations and psychotic breaks. the parents race her to a psychiatrist where she is given medication. 
later in her teens she goes off the rails, sex, drugs and a few assaults, she's bailed out a few times, on remand and eventually threatened with some form of institutionalization.  she is prescribed various new medication and therapy. 
10 years later she marries and has children, but gradually begins to develop compulsions, impulsion's and neurosis that results in aggression and violence. she murders brutally, just for the thrill. 
a physic detective tracks her down, captures her in a trap using his secretary as bait. the authorities are shocked at the fact such a privileged personality could be responsible for such depravity. she goes to court for trail. 
her defender argues the case, she did not commit the murders. a separate part of her did, a part that was her shadow and had split into it's own persona. this is the part that must face trail but since it is impossible to separate the two aspects the case must be dismissed. physiologists are flown in to give evidence. psychiatrists follow. the nature of the mind is now on trail. 
the judge is frustrated with the evidence, he is confused by the whole argument, science says one thing yet his moral code says another. the jury will decide and he will announce their verdict.
the jury are given the evidence. they cannot decide and spend a few days in discussion, contemplation and disagreement. eventually they are pursued by the science, trust the science. she could not be responsible and punished if it was a separate persona that committed the crimes. but how can the persona be punished?
the obvious answer is therapy. during the sessions a childhood trauma is revealed although the details are repressed, hypnotherapy and some ketamine therapy reveals them to be of a violent sexual nature, after which the psych fractured in a form of disassociation, the shadow was born.

the shadow and the original persona are at odds, one wants to dominate and take control, it needs to express it's urges and compulsions no matter how taboo or perverse they are. it loathes the original considering it weak and pointless, a victim. from the depths of inner space it whispers it's degrading abuse towards the original, cruel vindictive statements, gas lighting and chipping away at any confidence the original has left. however the therapist is clever, he knows what's going on thanks to the hypnotherapy where he has access to the new persona as well as the original. it's a process of integration, however the new persona is far to calculating and independent to want to join the original, it's selfish self destructive desire is to dominate the whole body and mind relegating the original to the darkness if not obliterating her. 

the therapist digs deeper until they come to the core of the event.the actual moment of assault and abuse, the point where the personality fractures. glue won't fix it, neither will memory or forgetfulness.

only acceptance and then reclamation of the whole, the new integrated person, shadow and light. it won't be harmony but it will be peace. sometimes you have to let the shadow out to play but negotiate how dark it gets. mostly stay in the light. forgive yourself. 

groovy driving music, captain mission likes to cruise the freeways in his magnificent car, finding zen moments up and down the highways and by ways. the sound system is perfect, it's where all things converge. you really have to have the correct ambiance, podcasts have their place as do audio books but driving really requires a rhythmic tribal beat to flow to. along with some great weed to spirit you away. 

interspecies communication, ultra smart octopi, a banished android assists a brilliant and passionate marine biologist on a remote island of the coast of vietnam, a hacker attempting to get inside the androids brain, a kidnapped man trapped upon a robotic fishing trawler, it's all in here, gloriously written by naylor whom has put a lot of thought into the future, into the idea of communication. a twist on first contact. two main characters have written seminal works which punctuates the chapters in short excerpts. how to build a mind, and how oceans talk. these are the incredible themes that run behind the narrative. i loved it. you will to. 

my fat head hurts, all afternoon listening to a whining woman from nepal talking about how good she is, blah blah blah, all afternoon. it's almost painful, like hot wires fusing in my head, this ego on legs doesn't know when to stop.  i don't know if she's in love with me, jealous of me, hates me or just wants to fight but it's almost impossible to deal with. she calls me autistic and suggests i don't like change, in front of autistic people, one of whom is hitting himself as her voice volume increases and grates whatever shattered peace we have. 'i have no problem with change, it's you i don't like,' i say. i don't mean to be rude but she is relentless and getting personal. every time i work with her, it's like a boxing ring, competitive, antagonistic and oppositional. i don't get paid enough for this shit. sometimes i just wanna walk out, sometimes i just wanna go on workers comp and fix the damage my job does to me, not the clients but the idiotic people i have to work with. i'm trying to build a safe therapeutic environment for people with mental health issues and this is the type of moron i have to work with. it's becoming a joke. i have to shake it off, like a bad energy. toxic. 

the next day she is fawning all over me, calling me very romantic, kind, compassionate and a great cook. it's nuts, i put it down to some lunar feminine influence, i mean what else can i do.

it's a strange few mornings, the water looks amazingly calm, and then there's some big waves, energy in the air warns of storm but don at the beach we smile, laugh and joke around. lots of people wanna take me out for dinner, i don't know why i'm so popular, girls call me on dates, far out. but work is in overdrive, with so many things i have to do, there's no time for socializing this week, the long weekend is upon us soon and i will be working right through that, and then hopefully a few days off, time to play.

part horror, part science fiction but all gothic, leech is a remarkable first novel by hiron ennes and it's unlike anything i have read previously. part mervyn peake, part lovecraft, part jeff vandermeer, yet strangely unique we find ourselves in the far far out future of what may be earth. 

told from the point of view of a parasite that is collectively known as the institute, and operating as a hive mind the institute is a collection of doctors who serve humanity in order not to be discovered by them. 

after one of it's bodies dies in mysterious circumstances one of it's bodies travels by train from  the academic town of inultus to the remote and frozen northern wasteland of virdira to the gothic mansion of the horrid old baron and his very unlikable family to investigate the discovery of a new parasite, one that killed the original doctor. this one is a mass of black tendrils that has incubated in the barons wheatrock mines. it is moving in on the institutes territory and as the new doctor attempts to stop it he is also undergoing some sort of transformation into the original host body. all this occurs while the castle begins to collapse around them, the family revealing it's ugly nature and strange secrets.

as the reader progresses you are invited into this imaginative world where aliens, humans, strange mythological creatures and maybe mutants all inhabit a landscape of weirdness and eventually the black tendrils, the institute and the barons family are revealed as different forms of parasite.

i love this book, it's so original and yet familiar, incredibly written. each sentence is perfect, a literate treasure chest filled with articulate gemstones. hiron ennes has done the unthinkable, and surprised me.

down at freestate, not the cafe i really hang out at but everyone else does and i like them a lot, so here i am chatting away, swapping stories. 
the lord mayor of terrible is peter proud, a great guy who i really like a lot. he swims every morning with monique and they are close friends. andrew is monique's husband and he's part of the tribe as well, another great man. so they are telling me a story about a white picket fence.
peter just bought a house and i joke, 'all you need is a white picket fence.'

the story starts with peter and monique finding an advert in a local magazine, white picket fence free to whoever wants it. if it's still there, it's yours. so pete rings up, and gets the street address, he sets off with monique. as they approach the street they realise they don't have a house number and the owner is not responding to texts. they drive up and down the street and see a lone white picket fence standing around a small house. it's the only one on the street so they disassemble it and heft it onto their utility. as they drive away they get a text from the owner which says 'she wants to give it to someone else.'

peter looks at monique and monique looks at pete, she yells, 'drive.'

and they do.

another story, robert is having a holiday in queensland at fortitude valley, and one night him and a friend go out to a huge club which has about 8 other clubs inside. each club has a theme, one is gay, one for transvestites, wone for transexuals, one for band d, ect. rob goes to the bathroom where he is propositioned by a guy offering a free head job. now robs a big biker guy, he races bikes and is pretty intimidating but he comes out of the bathroom and catches his friend who is very nervous, 'we can't stay here, it's not for us.' his friend says.

'yeah but if you go to the bathrooms you get a free headjob.'

it was hilarious and i burst out laughing but two lesbians at our table stood up and left. 
 

i noticed anthony fauci has just admitted they all made up the 6ft social distance regulation. yeah, well they made it all up anthony, you fucking killed millions of people with your stupid regulations and the ban on ivermectin. you killed thousands of old people by isolating them and then there's the thousands of people you killed whom you ordered hospitals to put on respirators. but no one cares cos as usual they are all to busy hating jews. fucking world is mental!

please do not respond with your pro science and ideological bullshit nonsense, i fucking don't care anymore. the truth is most people were bamboozled and are gullible fools who trust the govt and the media i say fuck the govt. i am intelligent enough to decide what's real, what's true and what i can do about it without some bureaucrat forcing me to conform to the zombie mass.

as far as the zombies go, they are still there chanting their nonsense like chickens chanting for kfc, collective madness is rife.

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

simple minds via planet funk - one step closer

 

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

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

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

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

blazing of the fire
deeper than an ocean

a force of concentration

the mantra blocks all thoughts

leaving words of power

perhaps sigil minded

the mind becomes focused.

in sex there is a power 

the psychic censor obliterated

subconscious free to implant suggestion

for the operation to begin

when flesh meets flesh

friction is an energy.

and if sex isn't your bag

then there's the monastic favorites, 

sleeplessness, fasting and exhaustion

torture, self flagellation

the censor weakened by time

one slips into trance 

the gateway to ecstacy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

from portal to portal

the return of

captain mission

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's nice to be home.

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

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

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

 chickpea fritter

Ingredients

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

FOR THE AIOLI

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

Instructions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

train ride down to the coast to tez and jean's house in worthing, so good to see them in the flesh as we usually skype. the weather is awful and it's cold but i feel warm as i am with two old friends, it's fantastic to see them again after a few years. off course we have aged a bit and slowed down so it's nice to be around people who are on the same wavelength and physicality as myself. 
tez and jean have always been a wealth of knowledge and great company, they are also excellent cooks so i am fed well, nutritious health fresh vegan food. wow! i'm so grateful. the first night i sleep like a baby, wake up feeling completely alive and ready for anything. we take a nice drive into town and i buy some long pants as my legs are freezing. then a little tour around the [place. it's okay, a good place, people are friendly and helpful, totally different vibe from londonistan. people have tiome to stop and chat, it's slower, more traditional and english in that gentle kind way. i like it although i feel a bit of a fish out of water, the beach is filled with rocks and the water looks so uninviting and angry. we have a quaint tea and cake in the lido at the pier and although i am freezing from that onshore wind, the hot drink helps. it's quite amazing how much history tez knows. to be honest tez should have his own you tube channel and i think it would be very popular but he's a humble modest guy and avoids attention.
so for a few days i feel like i am in a sanctuary, being looked after by two beautiful people. we have a laugh as we discuss the world. tales are told, memories of east london where we all hail from surface up and local folklore placed into context. fairy rings, energetic pathways, magick and new eras, politics, secret agendas, possible strategies to navigate them, everything worthwhile is discussed. i drink a few guinesses, eat more great food, sleep deep sleeps and dream weird dreams. we take a group photo together, it's our album cover for a new band called 'pterodactyl hex.' 
jean plays sitar, tez on guitars and i do vocals and tabla.
before i know it it is time to return, london is a shock again, the anthesis of the south coast.

as usual i arrive early and haul my suitcase across the city on the tube, london is cold, grey and wet. already i feel depressed and out of place. all i can think about is the ocean back home, terrible beach where i miss my morning surfs, the smell of good coffee afterwards, and the sun on my face. anyways here i am, gotta make the most of it i guess. when i get to mums everyone is sick, mum, my brother and the people that seem to come and go. jake is fit as a fiddle, he's off to italy for work for a few days but returns in a few days but before he leaves we head into london where i stock up on rare books and stuff at my fave places. london seems nuts, from now on i will refer to it as londonistan, seeing as though the islamic population outnumbers everything else.  it's packed with tourists, americans, italians, spanish, it really is quite the tourist city. occasionally i hear someone speaking in english.
i can't help than notice a lot of the pubs seem to be shut down, that's a step in the right direction but it takes away the very fabric of the london i know. there are some pubs open, very expensive and crowded, far to loud for me although i do occasionally stop for a guinness on doctor's orders.
my brother invites me to his workspace, a huge big tower made from brick and glass in algate. from up there i can see east london, the old architecture looks amazing, the new not so much. generic buildings, even the telephone shaped one looks ugly and lacks imagination, the shard is modern and looks good but belongs in dubui, the pickle is wonderful but belongs in dallas. 
on the street it's bangldesh. 
we walk to (whitechapel) london hospital where i was born. the original building still stands although it resembles a victorian insane asylum, with it's gothic turrets and gargoyles. ancient brick crumbles and faded with age. this whole building has closed down and they relocated now, down the road stands the new london hospital, it's ugly and has a generic failing nhs sort of feel.
we wander along to my first home, 'zion house' in sidney street, the roads are tiny and the apartments are equally small. i can't believe this area, when i was born this was considered the biggest slum in europe but now it's a mini bangladesh a few minutes walk from the city. londons ever expanding boundaries kinda started here, in the background of these council homes stands the shard and the new skyscrapers, you can even see the eye.
along the main road of whitechapel are the ruins of the white chapel of saint mary matfelon, now just a few white stones. as i stand staring at them a black dude with a headscarf wrapped around his head, wearing torn plastic globves comes over to shake my hands. he says, hello and tells my brother about me. it's weird, this sort of thing happens quite often, random strangers come up and start saying to whomever i am with, 'this guy is very amazing, he's special, he's important, he's an angel, a legend,' etc.
not only is it embarrassing for me, but whomever i am with is left bewildered and lost for words, as is my brother whom looks nervous as the guy shakes my hand and walks off fulfilled.
we wander around, pop into 'the ten bells' a famous haunt for east london prostitutes in the olde days, in fact jack the rippers victims had their last ever drinks there. now it's filled with yuppies and advertising people.
one fine day i walk through hamstead with jake, he shows me a new bookshop which i really like. it's all arranged in geographical terms. in hampstead i feel more relaxed and in an environment i can relate two. it was a big haunt for me as a young teen and now jake lives there. sunday afternoon it's heaving, everything is open and cafes and pubs are packed. 

the transport system has declined a lot in the year since i was here last, often trains don't run, buses are unmarked and the drivers don't really speak to the public so they are no help. it's all very weird. jake and i made the mistake of catching a train via wembley when a soccer match was on, it was squished up to the max. very uncomfortable and unhealthy.

an hour of boxing this morning, wow, i'm feeling good. move fast and punch hard, i feel confident enough to handle myself in a fight now. especially ready for londonistan where it appears violence is the currency. obviously if it's an acid attack i will be in deep trouble but knives, fists and any sort of punch up i am ready. i'm going to punch like a concrete block and sting like a man o war jellyfish. but only if i have to. i am aligned with mars for london

on the flip side i'm emotionally filled with love and peace, good vibrations cruise from my body in erotic pulsing waves of creativity, sensuality and charm. strange, i have not felt this energy in a while, it's been dormant or awaiting a moment where the body, heart and mind are aligned with venus for asia.

i awake again after a very long 24 hours, how do they stretch it out into what feels like 48? i'm pottering around, this and that, expanding into that strange inertia variation as i always do before life changing events. everything looks jammed packed, no space as the walls close in upon me. i do live in a suitcase.

the adventure beckons, the lure of sirens singing and shrieking enchantments, i throw a couple of books in my bag.  david zindell's 'neverness' light reading, heavy story which can be dis-guarded after reading as i have another copy. smart travel. a pair of swimmers and two shorts, old church t shirts that are falling apart. their last voyage out. men always find it hard letting go of old t shirts, it's a strange relationship.
the flight to bali occurs with my head in a book, i hardly notice the journey. on arrival there's a lot of waiting around but eventually i meet my driver whom i employ as a tour driver later in the week. 
oh no! the hotel is not quite what i wanted, it's in the heart of legian, and nowhere near as glamourous as my previous stays. i kick myself for not returning to sanur which is further north and less touristy. the town is filled with tourists, restaurants and bars. i make friends with a guy from mullumbimbi, we share a lot in common both having worked in youth work and homelessness. i tell him about some lovely weed i smoked a few weeks ago and he says, 'that's silver widow right?' 
he is right. 

after a chat he tells me his neighbour has a supply and suggests he may be able to acquire some for me. unfortunately we never meet again and like all transient things i am left wondering if it was all a dream. others in the hotel are dogy aussies, tattooed up, alcohol fuelled and chain smoking with their oversized girls friends who burst out of bikini's and talk far to loudly about getting their hair done. i hot tail it to ubud where i hang out with the monkeys who are slightly more cultured than the australian tourists.

i have lunch over the rice fields as a storm comes in, it's quite dramatic and beautiful. outside of time.

udud is a bit touristy as well and somewhat filled with modern shops, restaurants and spas. i ask my driver to take me somewhere where are not many people and i can get a massage.

we end up in some temple, it's stunning traditional architecture and gardens are almost japanese, although with a huge hindu influence. the women wear traditional sarongs and the building is hidden along a long walkway.

two hours later i'm floating on air.

we stop at a place i always visit to pick up a couple of sarongs, i end up buying a shirt as well. then off to the local chocolate factory where they have taste testing but the only thing i want is the coffee flavoured one. it's good but not brilliant. at least, not as good as european chocolate. 

another day i walk along the beach, it's very different from the beach i wandered along 10 years ago when i bumped into my friend from sydney who was holidaying with her husband. now there's a trail of litter, plastic bottles and bags. it's disturbing. part of me wants to clean it up, it would take about two years and i wonder why the local authority doesn't just ban plastic at the beach. there are plenty of locals selling fresh coconuts which they machete open for you to drink. 

it's a long walk but i get to the infamous 'mr. potato head' where i grab a tonic water and lunch. surrounded by exotic women in bikinis, sipping cocktails while taking a dip in the infinity pool. they lounge around looking glamourous on the lounges and comfortable recliners, while some very deep chill out music plays across the whole place. i could stay here all day, and i do.

getting a moter scooter back i feel the cool breeze cut through the hot heavy air, dodging oncoming bikes and cars, the traffic system here is chaos but it works perfectly unless you are a westerner. i guess there's some sort of telepathic communication going on, some instinctive understanding of finding order within chaos. 

there's a lot of lounging around, eating nice salads, reading and sleeping and then i'm heading to london.

back at the enmore i am there to see and listen to one of my favourite political commentators douglas murray in a show called uncomfortable conversations, which is basically a chat hosted by some young gay podcast guy with the formidable intellect of douglas whom is also gay but in a less obvious way. i was there really to support douglas as he has been a lone sane voice and spokesman for israel in the current madness. he is not only articulate but funny, and easy to like. somehow i ended up down the front, and i think as douglas walks on stage can see he is overwhelmed by the audience applause. 

from the start it's a confrontational interview, the host is good, he challenges murray's stance and attempts to advocate for the other side, yet murray is able to remain calm and in control offering a counter- argument that is rational and reasonable. 

time flies by, most of what is discussed is already known to me, and although i am on side with murray i feel an elevated respect for a man who challenges the status quo and addresses the establishment with such ferocity and analysis. he can take apart the counter argument in the vein of that other incredible mind of the late christopher hitchens whom i also heard once demolish a pro-theocratic iranian audience. absolutely remarkable non politically correct these two champions are the last of a dying breed.

one thing that murray explains is how it is better to be true to what's just and true than what's expected as it's the trend, fashion or peer pressure forces you into. he says, 'one path leads to slavery, the other freedom, you may make a lot of enemies but you will also make good and true friends.'

at the end i stand up and clap, i chat with a few people in the packed enmore. we all agree it's nice not to feel so alone politically, and i must admit for the first time in a long time it was. 

as usual there are a crowd of morons outside protesting, screaming and spitting at people. the usual chants of 'rivers and seas' and intimidation. apparently they attempted to get the event closed down but the enmore refused and douglas mentioned how brave the management were to continue with the event as the pressure was quite hard with even staff being put at risk.

interesting times. 

on the way home i sit opposite a guy listening to his phone, and i pick up the familiar voice of douglas. i ask if he saw the interview and he says he just arrived from adelaide and loves murray but didn't know he was in town. we have a lively discussion all the way to gosford about israel and ezekiel 37, 38. 

we both share our stories about travels through israel, the incredible cities of tel aviv and jerusalem. about the amazing beauty of the galilee and the remarkable transformation of the dessert in such a short time. it's the beginning of some sort of friendship, the guy is very intelligent, and some sort of christian minister. whatever he is he attempts to explain the concept of jesus on the cross and the implications of sin to me. i don't have the heart to tell him i don't believe in sin or satan but listen actively as i never quite understood the idea of 'dying for our sins' and to be honest still don't but i am closer to it, thanks to this gentleman on the train. 

when i leave at gosford i wonder if i just encountered some sort of angel like intelligence. i don't know, how else do you explain that sparkle in his eyes.

 the

violence

of

truth

in the tesla all is quiet as we weave the roads to get to the highway, it's a smooth elegant ride. the moonroof has stolen my heart, and i look out gazing at the skies, the huge raincloud forming over the horizons. we hit the highway and i see a lone white goat standing upon a huge rock face. i have no idea how he can get back as the face is sheer but by the time i ponder the goats dilemma we are in the city.

it's always fantastic to see dave, ryissa and wild child, these are my church friends, and all evening i feel weird. i feel like i am having an illicit relationship with another band. the damned.

and we watch tim rodgers doing iggy pop with the hard ons. when the damned appear it's mental. far too loud, slightly distorted. it gets louder. it gets more distorted. my head feels like it's going to explode.  my ears hurt, it's painful, an ordeal. i never should have come i think, i'm a church man, this london punk thing was great when i was young, but now i need to listen. i need subtlety, nuance and elegance not loudness and distortion. the vocals sound muffled. i can't recognise words or songs. as a band they are a strange group, each member completely different from one another. captain sensible is an idiot, swearing and carrying on, we do get a little happy talk from him but mostly it's incomprehensible nonsense. david vanian is just a strange front man in a black suit and wide brimmed hat, he hardly speaks or ever shows his face. he walks from one side of the stage to the other, hangs in the shadows, hardly speaks to anyone else on stage. the keyboard man is a freak, he's the most animated as he attempts to pull in the audience. the songs whizz by at ten million miles an hour. 

when it's over it's a relief. 

in the old days before babel man could speak to all beasts, the communication was elegant and almost telepathic in nature. once has to also accept a lot of nuance is non verbal anyways but most beasts had a face and faces are easy to read in communications. 

over the decades i have found i am able o speak with large spiders. this is a strange thing indeed as i am very nervous around them however after the initial shock of discovering a huntsman or tarantula in my home i manage to calm down and work out a strategy on how to live with the beast.

the usual one is a pact.

the spider can stay as long as it either keeps out of my way or checks in with me to show where it may lurk so that there are no big surprises. 

this seems to work to some extent and over decades has proved successful.

about two months ago i was greeted by a huge tarantula in my bathroom at about two am after flicking on the light. it was motionless upon the wall. the size of it was frightening, it was straight out of the amazon, the size of my hand and very hairy and a deep brown colour. i was petrified at first but refused to give into the vacuum cleaner stratagem, or the plastic box and a vinyl record, run to the garden trick. i just didn't want this spider anywhere near me, no matter what protection stood between us. besides these types of spiders are very good for housecleaning.

so the pact was made. 

and it has lasted two months.  

the angry sea exonerates me as it spits me out, somewhat battered after a wild encounter with it's undercurrents, mammoth waves and chaotic nature. i stagger back towards the shore looking around me i realise i am the only single person who is in the surf. i knew i wouldn't catch any waves but i just needed to wake up and get wet.

later i bump into my friend monique who is off to meditate upon her next painting. i see her art around the town, it's really good, part fairy, nature and spirals, always white and snow like. we chat about the surf, she's already been in. monique swims every day, she's quite the dolphin and a much better swimmer than i. her friend peter is also an amazing swimmer, he's also my chiropractor. after my swims i always enjoy chatting with them and laughing, these mornings have been very nice lately, as we flirt from subject to subject. i like their politics, almost in alignment with my own. 

back home i watch douglas murrey on you tube, possibly the most intelligent political commentator at the moment. he gets about and few dare challenge his arguments for fear of being humiliated i guess. later some joe rogan, dan borngonnio and a documentary about aliens. between books i can't decide what to read next, choice paralysis as my piscean nature kicks in, it's a very tricky process. in the old days i would just grab something and start reading it, but now the whole thing causes me endless anxiety. i guess it's tied up with time and mortality. as i age i understand time is finite subjectively, therefore i want to saviour it and not waste so much of it reading second rate stuff, although nothing around me is really second rate. it's just priority.

later i do some boxing, half hour of intense movements and channelling anger. it's good but in the heat i find myself exhausted and covered in sweat. where's that ocean i think, ironically.

half way through the plant hunter and it's a great read so far as it follows harry compton's search for a mysterious icicle tree.

from the old kings road in chelsea  across half the world to deepest china. it has all the makings of a classic. a hapless hero with nothing to loose, on the run and chased by unscrupulous dealers. it has an ocean voyage, loads of information about rare plants and the opium wars. i'm about half way through and love it. it's a classic english adventure for adults. harry has just sealed a deal with a young widow and together they embark upon a voyage up the yangtze river, pursuing the plant that would transform both their lives. 

around noon i remember i have a free ticket to the mind body spirit festival so i jump into the hybrid and catch a train, (only it's a bus as there is track work) into darling harbour. the bus turns out to be non stop so it's actually faster. i read a big chunk of my new book which is rather good so far. 

darling harbour has changed quite a lot since last time i pottered about there, it's packed with tourists and people eating ice creams, there's a huge commotion near a big stage as i have to navigate the crowds, there's awful music and signs written in alien languages, and as i pass by i see it is some sort of festival celebrating serbian culture. a big stage suddenly fills up with people in traditional serbian outfits and some horrible music blasts out ruining the perfect summer day, as i quicken my pace and head to the conference centre.

inside mind body there is no spirit, it's just your corporate like, small business stuff catching up and cashing in with the public. crystals meet hyper-vibrational machines, nutrition, organic supplements and tarot cards. retreats for yoga, meditation and exotic spa weekends. i've only been there five minites and i'm bored. the only stall i find interesting is a feather stall where i manage to get some lovely feathers for my hair. i do chat to a few people, all are very complementary, 'you have a nice energy,' they all say. cynical me, just sees it as part of their sales pitch. i nibble on some very nice new zealand olives, some amazing cocoa beans and drink various herbals, it's all very civilised and dull. i sleip away and make for the japanese bookshop where at least my brain can awaken.  now, todays book hual is rather excellent, 'paul of dune' an in between novel that is to fill the 12 year gap between book one and two, i get some new don winslow crime novels, and a stanislaw lem collection of short stories. as i make my way to the cash register i pick up another book of short stories by leannora carrington. 

somewhere along the way someone asks me the date and as i tell them i remember today is my birthday, yep. all in all it's not a bad day i think as i wait for the bus home. 

if you think you know almost all there is to know about david bowie, this is a great book. it really surprised me with it's fresh new information about his connections to people and attached gossip. i read it in about two days, it's not difficult and leaves you hungering for more as you plough your way through davids relationships with the famous and infamous. there's some great stories in here,  and some really surprising events that were new to me. did you know it was bowie taught micheal jackson to moonwalk! it's so weird, yet useless information, the type i find fascinating and easy to store in my bowie trivia filled brain. anyways i really liked this one.  

dune part two. i'd have preferred the whole dune story in one massive 15 hour orgy of film but i understand it's a complex story and perhaps people need time to follow it and process the many aspects within it's narrative. 
it really is the best science fiction novel written, therefore there is no reason why it can't be one of the best films, and it certainly could be, given the next episodes match the first two. i enjoyed dune part two, it was perfect and spectacular. the sound was amazing, far improved than the first which was a little bombastic for my tastes. i particularly liked the lighting, although i wanted more from the sandworm scenes, a little more detail and there's one part where the sandworms are being ridden into battle by fremen and it does look kind of ridiculous. however that is a minor criticism. i love the way the harkonen scenes are so contrasty, at one point the film becomes black and white, and i love the fyad character played by austin butler (elvis) who is going to be the next big thing. the fight scene between him and paul is basically the template off how fight scenes like this need to be filmed, it's incredible. but the story itself is remarkable as it totally inverts the usual storyline of the hero, although it will be in the next film this becomes obvious, the seeds are sown in this one. 
at the conclusion when paul calls for 'holy war' (jihad) you can begin to see how the story will take a sharp turn. 
well worth seeing on a big screen, just for the soundtrack. i must admit i would have liked subtitles as i missed some of the dialogue being somewhat deaf but all in all, fantastic stuff. 

zone of interest

by

the deep fix

there's a chronic rift

a schism

it's not quite a hole

or a void unfilled

or any other ism

welcome friend

enemy

you are no guest

don't come in

to the zone of interest.

bones turns to dust

it's the season in hell

not quite winter

but you can't tell 

in the image of man

come on in

unfamiliar stranger

but do not rest

when you find yourself in

this zone of interest

strange dream. 

it's london, i'm getting a lift with an old friend martin, we are going to a music event but first he has to go off to a doctors. we are driving in a beaten up old van, which rolls up into a driveway, one story clinic into which martin disappears. later we get to the event, out friends are there, everyone preparing for the competition. we have been told to bring our own lunch, everything is packed away into a big cupboard. the event finishes, i somehow get locked in the room and miss my spot but later everyone returns, we begin to pack up. i have not eaten and go looking for my lunch. it's gone but a couple of non english girls point me towards a high cupboard filled with chocolate. the girls are laughing as i say i can't eat it and they grab it themselves. eventually i discover my lunch has been stolen. then the girls follow me around and we return to the area martin is. martin flirts with one of the girls, as we prepare to leave. they follow us out to the van, we say goodbye. martin drops me off outside my place. i enter and fall asleep. i awake in the night to hear heavy rainfall. the phone rings, a mysterious voice tells me he likes my music and wants to release a few albums with me, he asks me to send him some stuff. he's quite a big, well known dude but is in a rush so when i ask him what address he can;t make up his mind. while he keeps me on the line i hear a crash from the lounge, it's huge followed by a gush of water. i have to wait for the address and then hang up, run down the steps to see a hole in my roof, water everywhere. i'm puzzled as there used to be a huge white fluffy rug there but it's missing instead a spray of shattered glass and my fave bowie picture ripped and partly soaking wet. half is still in the frame. i follow the glass into another room where another rug is missing and the room trashed. i run out the door feeling confused and angry. 

i wake up, it's about 30 mins before dawn. everything is where it should be. i feel stupid checking but the dream was so real and vivid, so detailed i carried it with me into my waking state.