the waterboys live in germany

procrastinating i sip away to the dreams of some nebulas dimension, they swallow up my thoughts of trail and retribution. the laws of physics don't quite work the way they usually do, slight discrepancy in thought and expression, it's the penumbra of uncertainty flooding through every door you open and behind every one you close.
i watched a film about men in hats who move between doorways, jumping into this world outta that world, adjusting things, like an angelic bureaucracy, 'you think you have free will but it's just an illusion of free will' one character says.
but even i don't care, i just want some soft oblivion today, in this strange sleep where things add up to nothing.

my brother martin visits me, it's just for a day, he's been travelling through india, researching my family who where shipwrecked there many generations ago after fleeing from the destruction of the temple in jerusalem (the second one) i guess they were not good sailors, i wonder where they were going?
anyways the survivors were a bunch of my descendants and went on to become some kinda jewish hindu hybrid. martin tells tales of fakirs, mystics and healers, he talks about our great great grandfather being a composer of kirtan, all these things resonate with me, for many years i have written about this in my blog, intuition connected me to the temple of solomon, healing close to my heart as a social worker and music manifested itself late in life with 'snuff music' being something of a devotional piece ultimately climaxing in the mantra 'om sri jaya rama om' which would translate as 'liberation for the true self'
all these unusual elements lurking embedded in my own dna now confirmed by my lineage, i think even my brother was shocked. 
i can't concern myself with past events, history and reflection, these are ripples and one must remained unattached to them as they wash over, but i am human and i found a certain validation in his message. 

anamnesis

the stars are out - BOWIE

loving the new bowie cd, the next day from it's opening bars of the familiar 'repitition' style guitars in 'the next day' to the wonderfully commercial 'boss of me' which a guardian reviewer panned for being to american in its content. the fact the guardian panned it on ideological grounds makes the album that much more better, for whatever integrity the guardian used to have it lost with me in the early eighties when it decided to hand over a whistleblower sarah tisdall to the government, yeah real integrity from the green socialist newspapers.

the album is rather brilliant, it's a slow burner with at least 30% being below what one expects from bowie. i really feel as if a trusted friend should have told him to leave out 4 tracks and keep the standard high and quantity less. but having said that the four tracks i would leave off are the ones that most people seem to be raving about.  
there's some interesting themes, school massacres explored in the wonderfully upbeat pop of 'valentines day' the stupidity of war in 'i rather be high' which has a wonderful chorus and of course the ideas of mortality, memory and fame (the stars are out) which i think has a very good short film to accompany it.  

the next day is a great comeback, very rich in lyric and production, very accessible for a new generation of fans and us old ones who always knew when bowie said 'retirement' he never meant permanent.

when i received the transmissions i firstly denied all knowledge and rejected them, no it's not my responsibility, it's just an hallucination, it's a mild psychotic breakdown man, it's stress related, it's fucking to many drugs, years of shamanics sending me nuts, it's old age creeping in, it's this it's that, but finally the voices began to boom with authority, and denial became acceptance and a reluctant devotion.
i say reluctant as a small part of my brain just was a fighter, it rejected and kicked, it screamed and howled and attempted to defiance, it's my inner deconstructionist.
but when the voice of god booms in-between your ears and fills your heart it's only a matter of time before you start to listen.
so i started slowley, working on my body, building the perfect vessel, doing my swimming, yoga, mental exercises, i transmuted my dna sharing the qualities of all lifeforms in this duality, invoking them inside my genetic code, and thus my ark contained all life, and thus when it came to the flooding my codes knew how to survive and what to do, for they were in tne with the natural ebbs and flows, the strange voice of god as it chattered away with it's plan i could not understand. eventually i realised automatic writing, a little knowledge of dr. dee, some variant of the enochian language, a little snippet from the apocrypha, oh yes, i learnt to listen through half closed eyes. 
'don't you see,' i would mutter to my wife, as i fed the unicorns, 'don't you understand, that we are the ark, our dna is life, that we must voyage as our experience floods,' i droned.
she looked blank and sympathetic at the same time, so i carried on, hoping one day she would get it.

yes we are, yes we can, yes yes yes, closer to the edge, yes yes yes, topographical oceanic yes yes yes i will, yes we will relayer your message, yes we can, yes we're going for the one, why, because we can.
thought forms focal point the house near the river, the bush shack dream abode by the beach, wild animals roaming around on that dead end street, the cool de sack, the cool oceanic breeze carrying news from nowhere, old nature knows no bounds, it just flows from now to now, station to station, and onwards the strange toiling human strive towards liberation, as old captain mission finds his place in the future history, yes we will. 
the plates rotate, the poles spin, the world follows it's beat, pulse signal to noise, think i'm going to drown in the white noise, think i'm going to swim across to the other shore, think i'm going to get to where i'm going, yes i can, yes i will, effortlessly.
it don't matter, one way or another, i got there, there's nowhere left to go, there's just somewhere.

in the old days magick was for outlaws, now its embraced by the popular culture, yet popular culture won't call it magick because by association magick is uncool, but magick is quite scientific in it's process, it must be tested under scientific conditions, repeated to give the same result, conditions must remain the same otherwise the result will vary.
herein lies a problem and why magick is tricky.
the condition of mind requires a discipline, this is fine tuned by the ritual and mediative aspects of the magickian, those old wizards knew what they were doing. 
those mantra chants, the yoga and visualisations all had purpose, the mind needs training, this is evident in all traditions, and the training is endless. the point is until one can not think of an elephant, when told not to think of an elephant, one is unprepared for magick to work effectively and therefore the results if any will be unpredictable. the lust for the result is also a mental exercise that requires discipline and training, for how can one enact an act of magick and not have a desire for a result, it's counter intuitive. yet counter intuition is the magickians currency, it's an abolishment of reason that gets the result. science folds back upon itself. 
if one uses astrology, one must accept that the universe and all it's components do not repeat themselves exactly, the variations are infinite yet the patterns may revolve. such approximations may result in different results, which is why it's known as chaos. 
the modern practitioner forgoes astrology for an internal alignment, quantum information.
the mind transcends single points, the position of a planet is never really in a single point anyway, it's part of a cosmic ballet, as we are. the chaos magickian would probably say something like, 'rocks n space only cast an influence if you want them to.'

looks like i'll be back in the grid on the 10th of this month, all communication is on the run, from my phone, internet cafe's or passing vessels i am travelling within.
this evenings post comes courtesy of the 'autistic express' a smaller ftl vessel manned by a bunch of extra chromosomal pirates, looking for booty and dancing to abba streamed through the internal radios 24/7, i tell you it's driving me nuts although i quite like that catchy number about the winner taking it all, interesting piano and lyric perspectives. anyway's i'm being accommodated although everything is slightly squished with the low ceilings, narrow short doors and the meals are generally jelly with bit's off fruit embedded within. they also drink a lot of coffee which is probably a good thing as i can't sleep on the short bed anyway.
old captain mission is popular amongst the girls here as well as they all come and introduce themselves and some request a dance, but he's no dancing queen, he declines and sits in the library waiting for another ship to cross paths.
these guys have no routines, they eat till it hurts, they stay up until they fall asleep and they dance till their legs can't move. but i tell you, i've seen em in battle and they know how to fight. they need a leader, some discipline, they know it, i know it, but it's left unsaid.
besides i'd need a large room of my own and put a ban on abba, i'd need to start a regime of vegetarian foods, avoiding the jelly and caffeine, then a fitness regime, that's when i reckon the mutiny would start....
so for the moment i'm happy just chilling out as a guest.
i'll post more as things develop.

last night the echo visited me, a future echo, warning of the black sun, 'be careful they play the tower card, they play it over and over, they speak of secret agendas and conspiracy, you must not....'
and then the echo fades away and i stir, awakened from the strange visitation. i wander to the window, opening it a little, gulping at the cool fresh early morning air. 
air with the taste of flowers, i wander out and feed the fish, my fish like to be hand fed, the lizards come out for their share, i'm going to miss these guys when i am away. so much to do, preparing for war is never easy. i must banish the thoughts until i am ready.
i have a new plant, a water plant, it's quite stunning, a wonderful addition to the pond, it shoots out with it's tropical flowers and huge leaves, it's strange dangling purple bits, i love looking at it, in it's new home, the fish are perplexed by it, slightly nervous. 
inside i have unrolled the big rug, it's perfect, the space transforms, everything is as it should be, a few more boxes to put away, a few books to give away, then the pictures to put up on the walls, after that i will be ready, i must prepare for the black sun, i can smell them in the air, they want something from me, i know it. i must defeat them.

i plugged out of her auric field, to many defence mechanisms, all that university education just warped her personality into one massive fortress of impenetrable energy, ugly with some sort of self righteousness and academic superiority, brainwashed with some memetic virus that tied her in knots, light poured out from the holes in her aura and even when i smiled at her she was already deep in defensive mode.

i could play it two ways, one would be to lull her into a sense of security, prostrate myself upon her superior needs, be the submissive for her insecurity. i couldn't do that, it's against the laws of nature, well my nature.
we were knee deep in dead glasses, neon seeping through the windows, doors half closed, glimpses of a thousand dramas, glimpses into anther persons tragedy, smoke hung around the room, the ceiling fan just churned it around, there were cracks in the ceiling, holes in the walls. 
some people were laughing, i think they were breaking up, and falling in love again, reviewing their time together. we looked at them, she looked cynical and made a funny face.
'hey love works in mysterious ways right?'
'it just don't work, people should get over it.'
'your just a bitter and twisted, hard done by. who was it who broke your heart?'
'i don't have a heart mission, you know that.'
it's true she was heartless, i don't even know what i was doing with her. she went to the bar and i watched her hips, her legs were pretty good in that skirt to, and she had that femme fatale look that all men desire. 
i sighed.
'just like a moth to a flame.' a woman with red hair stood next to me said.
what could i say, it was a perfect analogy.
'set the controls for the heart of the sun.'
'or alternatively the moon,' she smiled, i smiled and while the femme fatale was getting cocktails we slipped out. 


  

i've updated the my space page, some new tunes are available, have a listen.
http://www.myspace.com/mydeepfix

hope you like them.

the dreams wake me up, it's him, dr. crack, back from the dead, to say his goodbyes. i wander around the house it's 3am and all is quiet, stillness. even the wind and rain that has been battering my roof for two days has ceased. i sit down and think about the my friend, such a loss. my whole world was shaken by his sudden departure and the fact he just left me. i say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.
the mornings i go looking for a water plant, something large to sit in the pond, i find the most beautiful plant, it's perfect. later i'm attacking the front garden, picking up fallen debris from the storms, massive palm branches, branches and bits of trees. the water dragon watches me, he runs towards me hoping i have food. he's big and he shows me his red belly. i return to toiling the land, clearing it away, it's so humid, the clouds roll overhead threatening me, big black shapes looming from the shadows, ghosts everywhere.

arriving home in the evening i go to the fish, i have to hand feed one as he can't see very well, plus the water dragons all come out for their share so feeding time is a big deal. i noticed the water level of the pond, it's dropped so much it's easy to notice, half full, half empty, a dramatic difference from the way it was when i left. well i assume it's just one of those freaky natural things that occur and then after my duties i go inside and have a shower. next thing i notice is in my bedroom all the plugs are unplugged, now this is not natural as i never unplugged them. 
the first response is to check the rest of the house, some one may be inside, i move through the place, checking the back doors but it's all secure and there's no one else here.
after a good nights sleep i potter around pushing the events of yesterday to the back of my mind, i find myself having to head for the shops so i jump in the car, it starts to rain. 
over the last few days i been listening to sk's new cd the idllyist in the car, i usually play a cd to death until it's in my dna and i'm enjoying the unpredictability of this one, it's so diverse, lot's of interesting elements to discover. steve plays all the instruments on this one, it's a really solo album and it's so chock filled with his influences i'm still uncovering them all, so i drive along the coast listening to it, track four suddenly i notice something really strange in the mix, only it's not the mix. the song starts to get louder, louder and louder until as i stare at the cd player i'm watching the volume level rising. 
it's not until i reach down and intervene that normality resumes. 
it's hard to know what's going on, i think i may have picked up a thirsty spook who likes good music but how does this explain the plugs? perhaps that was the spooks way of letting its arrival be known, i just don't know. 
i don't mind sharing my life with a ghost, just as long as it behaves itself and knows the rules. i'll keep ya posted.

it's true we need a global revolution, citizens of the world hear me out, i don't advocate violence or destruction when it comes to revolution, however there is one fundamental advantage and that when a revolution occurs and the government is brought down, it's leaders need teaching a lesson. all the best revolutions result in an act of violence and savage justice, the french, russian, american and mexicans all know this and it does maintains some effectiveness for many years afterwards but people forget, generations of leaders default back to their ways and the very people who installed them become their slaves.
world leaders need a lesson, they need reminding who they represent and that even in a democracy there are limits to what you can do to your own people.
so the first thing to do is get that anger out of your system, put down your weapon, you know it's an outdated way to overthrow the government and belongs in our history not our future.
the best thing to do is have your own private revolution, divorce yourself from the idea that any non spiritual perception of reality is an illusion and  be creative. art lov-ism is the answer, paint the white house purple, with small yellow spots, turn the battleships into floating gardens, melt all guns, teach children that dancing is good for the soul, pig out on joy, the sunrise has much more power in it than a financial system, its real, offer your acts to your deity, expect nothing, practise love over hate, banish fakery, be true to your higher self, love your enemy for he/ she shows you your self, make love not war, (ask me for details) keep the faith, people who chase power are insecure, people who control people are in fear, people who start revolutions should finish them and clean up the mess.

on the verge of hitting 51 years old, my body is beginning to decline rapidly as old wounds come back to haunt me, my eyes fail and my appears hearing shot to pieces. the doctor reckons i am in good shape, having the same health as a 40 year old except for some weight i have packed on, he seems to think i should consider myself lucky.
well i can still write, that's the advantage, i am breathing and i live in a good spot, so yeah i am lucky, lot's of gratitude there.
when i wander out of the docs into the hub of the shopping mall i am disorientated by the crowds, the shops just confuse me, i consider a doctors surgery in a shopping mall the height of bad taste but i require a sick certificate, so environmental concerns have to be prioritised as low. it's bizarre that i only ever go to the doctor for a sick certificate, so i can get off work, but i guess when you hit 51 it's probably a good idea to find a doctor you can trust. 
i never think about age, never consider it anything but a process and number, one mans 51 is another mans 17, it's all about the process, depletion or restoration. 
so i file out into the horde.
the mall where i live is sprawled out over a large area, it's single story and has hundreds and hundreds of shops, a lot of which sell sunglasses. i decide i will investigate and find myself a new pair of round glasses, john lennon style, as these are my preferred shape, large round circle lenses, with a narrow thin frame. 
not surprisingly the sales assistants bring out everything they have but round lenses. i reject them all, in about 12 different shops i go through the ritual of explaining a circle and why the glasses they bring me are not circles, 'no that's an oval, sorry that's what i would call a rectangle, err nope.'
on it goes until i start to feel different, am i the one who is wrong, did the scientific community who decided pluto is no longer a planet also later as an afterthought declare circles no longer have to have a consistent radius. 
these days staying home, reading, writing and feeding the animals is safer for me, the world has become very confusing and awkward for me, it's melted away from my mind, i am truly detached from it all, yet able to navigate my way through should i chose. it's a snake pit of greedy people chasing down money, that's basically the experience of society in the modern age.
the desire for cash is growing, you can see it everywhere as the governments all over the world suck cash from the tax payers, and like sheep we pay them their fines penalties and royalties, yet the tax we pay should come back in the manifestation of better services and facilities. my point is where is the service? for all the cash the public hands over where is the actual service we fund?
it's being spent by a bureaucracy on a bureaucracy, that's the bottom line. the health service get's worse at a ground level although the committees that run them rake in the clams, transport services in sydney are 20 years behind the rest of the world, education now dumbs people down so they don't know what a circle is. and if you don't believe me, wait till you pay your rates, because they are going up about 60% in the next few years, which means rents will increase to. 
yeah the local councils have agendas to. 
yeah i need glasses now to read but i see things very clearly.

been listening to idyllist the new sk cd and what a surprise, 16 songs all completely diverse and unrelated, individual tunes that seem very familiar in a strange way, i love the music and the words although the lyrics are not easy to decipher, more due to the way the cd is mixed maybe, or some technical thing, i don't really know. this don't take anything away from the experience, i guess it's just being a word man i like to know the words which is why i always enjoy lyric sheets. i know sk never prints lyrics in cd's and for a good reason, it's a personal thing i guess, i have a curious need to see the lyrics. 
the cd is so eclectic, there are many influences here, they are like ghosts haunting the whole cd, i hear john foxx, i hear bowie and bolan, i hear bee bop delux and bill nelson, i hear the echos of hawkwind and space rock, some strange experimental music from john cage, or the new york avent garde. yet it all sounds fresh and unique. if i was getting someone to appreciate steve's talents this would be the cd i would give them, it's accessible but uncompromising.

i can't chose a favourite song but i'm really into 'swift one' for its construction, every component is well thought out and appears in place, remarkable song lyrics and delivery, i like steve when he's angrily singing with that arrogant snarl, it's so far removed from the sickly sweetness of boy bands and modern pop music. 

'well my baby came home and she shot me with a gun...'
let's face it, with an opening line like that you can't go wrong. 
the guitars are brilliant, no complexity, a simple kind of riff but highly effective as this industrial nature of the song pumps along like a good old steam train on it's journey through all the iconic landscape  sk fills in his songs. the backing vocals are fabulous and conjure images that cross times expanse. it's the time being man, that guy can walk on water when it comes to music. 

the zone one architecture offers crystal luxury for the discerning eye, reflection of space, you could really be in the centre of the void, anywhere in galaxy seven. 
let's take a look at some of the colours, new colours never seen by earth human eyes, they replicate frequencies of the higher more evolved species, whales, dolphins, exotic birds. these colours are living, they have thoughts, formulated predominantly upon philosophical implications of a branch of mathematics we could say is pure, but is actually more of abstract representation in a fractal pattern of light. the colours don't have names because they don't perceive identity in a way that we can understand, they are aware of themselves as a life form of many but they do not focus their attention upon this fact, they have no desires or ambitions, no survival instincts and no form of material culture. only an intellectual pursuit represented in wavelengths and frequencies.
zone two on the other hand has a life form humans should avoid at all costs, these are the hive mind insect replicators whom are vast and inhabit all the planets plus a number of moons, asteroids and some orbiting hive ships. 
the hive mind is a swarm of about seventy seven thousand billion individuals which in size are about comparable to a cat although they look like crustaceans. many variations depending on function but these are ugly looking creatures relative to human concepts of beauty and it is recommended to avoid this species at all costs. 
the hive is highly technological, very advanced, they have salvaged technology from several dead races, adapting it into their own hybrid technology, which is based around weaponry and killing. the collective race is known as the machine, each unit a component in the mass body of something that has not yet come together, the unity of the machine is predicted and calculated to take place in two hundred thousand years. by then the zone one will be assimilated into zone two and any life form inhabiting the zone will be extinct.
it is my pleasure to report that i have with me the virus that will circumnavigate this. i will release it into zone two and end the machine, thus contamination will be almost immediate requiring approximately eight minutes to infect the whole species. however this will result in war crimes, according to the council of twelve, punishable by execution controlled by remote sensors hooked up to my controlling system. this is the law of zone three  as decreed by the council of seven before it was twelve. at risk of saving the zones i must sacrifice my own existence.
the council in their finite wisdom do not subscribe to the unilateralist approach, the greater good is unconsidered. 
i am in effect a suicide bomber, although my termination will not be mine. i wish there would be another way but the machine must be stopped.
the philosophy of the council of twelve limits our own survival, it's own survival. it has led me to believe in the imperfection inherent in our society, a standard so high we would rather be extinguished than compromised.
as soon as i release the virus the twelve will know, i will be terminated almost seconds after, my life blown out like a flame dancing on a candle.
i'm seconds away, the twelve know this, they watch my movements and thoughts, they know my intent, all seeing eye, remote possibility, the ghost of edgar allen poe, an echo from the human galaxies was whispering, in the pulse of my heartbeats, the ever present whisper, evermore, under the floor, in the wind, the bustle of trees. 
i set the controls for the perimeter of zone two, i only need to engage with one unit, transmit the virus and the rest will occur almost instantly.
the machine function as a collective intelligence, they or it have only one program, the absorption of all living systems into themselves. they call the separation 'the abyss which must be crossed.'
they perceive themselves as having no meaning inhabiting their environment, the abyss, for this is the realm of the storehouse called phenomenon. the only meaning that could possibly exist is to traverse this void, connect all other life forms to their own and thus create a meaning.
shivadarshana.
the collective intelligence is also known in some circles as choronzon, it is likely that this is the name those that have managed to cross the void give the machine, it's an inner name, a secret name, a name not spoken of.

what compulsion drove me to this point? a strange impulse embedded within the trajectory of my soul. a need to unfathom the mystery of existence.
it made me isolated and unloveable, it forced me to act in a way that was perceived as madness, it challenged me in ways that almost broke me, save for the grim determination i always kept my eye on the goal. illumination is the destruction of the self, while giving birth to the self, shedding skin, spirit is rebirth. my incarnations made all things known. 

the virus would detonate on infection, it would be split second, the explosion would change everything and thus myself. 

Swift 1 by steve kilbey

buy jupiter (a magickal jest) i'm going broke, it's all very well having visions but you gotta pay for them, to become solid, or pray, maybe i'll try that, i've never really done it officially except in obligatory circumstances. ie. being coerced to by my parents and their belief structures, and although this in itself was not a bad thing it never felt natural. then there was the times i thought i would die, i think i just made that deal with god, you know the one, i guess that's more of a pact. sorry god, i must have let you down more than once but you're a god, and i am just a part god, a human made in your image huh?
then there was some magickal activities whereby i was invoking and that's a form of prayer although more formal, but it's not a prayer as such. 
i've seen people prey up close, muslims, jews, christians, hindus, pagans, although not in the same room, which makes me feel somewhat indifferent to all these memes, i mean if you have faith in god it should be tested or it's a belief of faith which history indicates fails all the time giving way to war. 
anyway's, i seen people pray for material things, very strange, it's something i never understood. i mean why pray for a washing machine when you can prey for peace. i guess it's just the way humans are wired. preying for cash seemed okay with the born again crowd, i just couldn't respect it, nor do i think god could answer a prayer with cash, it's such a human construct. the god i believe in works in mysterious ways, she don't just dish out the cash for those who ask for cash.  
you gotta enter the world of energy to get cash, the way i see it, it's a reasonable exchange, capitalists understand it, a trade, your talents for something else, i'll trade you a bunch of banana's for an hours work on my car. it's a net of complex barter and exchange but it's elegant, until some greedy fucker comes along and fucks it all up with an extreme desire. take heed girls who work in erina happy high herb shop. 
$5 for a packet of rolling papers is taking liberties in my opinion. i also paid $5 for a coconut drink which across the street in the asian shop sells for $3.50 which is still expensive considering i usually get a coconut for $1.00 from the grocer, which means i paid $4 for a can that i would throw away after use.

(so happy high herb people of the central coast next time i see ray (happy herb founder) i'm gonna have words.) 

see this is what happens, a great idea gets corrupted by greedy savages posing as hippy bimbo girls, the music industry is filled with them, i fucking hate hippies, especially these middle class byron bay types, they are the worst, they are like oil barons and big pharmaceuticals only shrouded in sanctimonious delusions that they are the opposite. 

a good man's reputation trashed because some stupid idiot hippie gets greedy, i should have said something but they would have started crying or called me a brutal misogynist.

these prices are insane, no wonder the shop is always empty. i rather get a train into newtown and buy my stuff from there or online than waste my time in that spiritually corrupt zone. it's a horrible place, fake niceties, personalities, fakery and deceptions without any happiness. 

anyway, i am broke and i need to sell something. apart from working in mental health where they completely fucked up my pay and it's going to take weeks to get back on track so i hope maybe i can find some other way of supplementing my income.

so i offer a prayer to the gods, all of them, help me.

sure enough a team of sexy gods in england reply with the idea that i should sell some stories and they have pieced together a short book, 'the adventures of captain mision' subtitled, 'astounding adventures through space time and mind.'

it even has a cover featuring yours truly, and they sent me a draft copy for proof-reading which i am doing today. i don't know who will read such a thing, or how much they would pay for such a thing, i think a few dollars would be suitable, a coffee costs $5 these days in sydney so $5 for fifty tales of strangeness quark and charm is a real bargain, who know's maybe it will be more than $5, i can't say yet but it will be reasonable, unlike those hippy drippy greedy herb people.