in soft moonlight, the strange curtain of clouds that part, the invisible pathways transcend the human senses, the cosmic maps embedded in places no science can reach the four magickians invoke dangerous energies. it is a still night, no sound except natures own. these are not sane men, they are not rational minds, they have crossed the threshold of containment. they have no knowledge of one another, but full knowledge. 
summoned by the universe itself these individuals are neither bound by sex or religion, politic or law. they are magickians. they have no fixed identity, only purpose.
the ritual is without much cosmetics, for in quantum magick there is no intention other than the spell. all possibilities are equal, one is invoked into being. 
four dimensional physics is the rule of this universe. pale moonlight informs us nature is abundant, it creeps in and surrounds us, it moves through us all, it envelops us and it turns us on. the energetic channels available are more powerful than the splicing atomic structural weaponry. this is a magick of creation. 
four hackers of the cosmos, insert codes in symbolic form into the mainframe. the program is corrupted and requires healing. the cultural subterranean pathways end at a cul de sac but the magickal ones cross all dimensions and are infinite.
the source code is altered, in an invisible war known to few. the magick is strong, it defeats corruption in the rotting systems, it is neither right nor wrong, it only is a technological thinking tool, a mechanism that projects intention and tweaks the outcomes. quantum magick is microscopic when observed and macroscopic when cast.
doubters ask, is it real.
believers say, it don't matter.    

strange energy current flowed through my day yesterday as i tried to fill it doing pointless things, like going to the big shops, wandering around like some sort of zombie, mind blanked out on lack of sleep and stress but underneath i am processing deeply, it all happens on a deep level, so deep i don't even know what's going down. i'm a mess, a nervous wreck, i have no idea how tricky the future is for me there, but it may be my time is up. who knows, therefore anxiety plagues me. have to heal myself from some psychic wounding. up against bureaucracy, my arch enemy and some guy i happen to work with who won't do any work. 
i somehow transported myself from the shops to the gnostic spot a few suburbs down the line. i'm looking at a silver pentangle but it's a bit to small although i appreciate its elegance. i'm looking at a lapis lazuli set in a piece of jewellery. a silver ring. anyway looking at these beautiful stones i chat with the people behind the counter both very lovely ladies and mention to one, whom i have met several times before, that i once gave a talk upstairs once. anyway they get my number, and let me just confess i was happy to leave it, but bout 20 mins after leaving i get a phone call asking if i would come in tomorrow and hold another talk as the person they were expecting canceled. 
i asked what they wanted me to talk about and went through a lots of things i could successfully talk about while ad libbing it. it was not a long list granted but it was impressive to me as i have low expectations at the moment. what surprised me more was she chose the ayahuscia subject, and in reflection it's possibly the least transgressive of my interests although i could tone it all down a little. 
i had a coffee or two and walked into the place and spoke about ayahuscia and they asked brilliant questions and accepted everything  i said with a respect i could only say floored me. i sort of didn't make a big deal about the whole thing, i was just me telling my story with some edits and they were cool. some had even heard about it and one asked where she can go to have some. i enjoyed relating my story as it's changed a bit, it's a softer gentle one. 
as the marriage i have with, this goddess spirit of ayahuscia. it's like an old married couple, she's still with me. amazonian goddess spirit. makes sense right?
anyways' i thoroughly enjoyed the sharing and the listening, they were the brightest group of people i've seen for a while, switched on old people.

i kick down doors, smash the windows, let the light in on the charade i work within. negligent staff getting away with murder in the government department i work at, ripping off clients, i hate it and speak out. i am told by various managers they don't care, can't stop it, that i am a trouble maker. i am fucking pushed and shoved up against a wall and in an insane bureaucracy where frank and george could only write about i live it. the fucking policy's, the moronic training, the lectures and management-speak harmony days, respect in the workplace, equality, inclusion, rights, dignity and at the end of the day the they can't fucking understand it themselves, their own policy. they don't want you bringing it up, talking about it, notifications are ignored and i am made to feel like i am the one who is wrong.
'don't write messages in the communication book'
'why, that's what it's for?'
'it's picking on one single person?'
'no, it holds them accountable.'
'that's not your job.'
'yes it is actually, it became my job when you no longer have the competency to do yours.'
i write a scathing letter to the head honcho demanding and accusatory. 
the next day i get a phone call to appear before the management, senior people who have lied to me before. 
i walk in, my first words are, i've got very low expectations.'
they actually let me speak. i tell my tale, missing out some bits, ramble on, babble on, but it does come out. they admit the situation is serious. they say they will investigate and support me. there's a lot unsaid but i leave feeling like i did my best.
let's see what occurs in light of the information they have, lets see if clients actually do have rights and the opportunity for a safe environment and not to be exploited by the usual bullies and thugs this dept. seems to enable and support more than the people in their care. 

i peek through windows, pass through doors, stand in the intersections of dreams and potentials, everything has no name here, nothing is true because it's all flux. 
flux is chemical while flow alchemical. i'm looking for flow. when it comes it moves through the spinal column, chakra activation, kundalini rising, massive hit to the neo cortex as cosmic energy shoots through into space through time. dark matter fluctuates, it's filling more space time than we can comprehend, and yet what is it? no one knows or understands it, yet it is bigger than the known universe. the physical universe is only 5% of the universe so what is the other 95% but potentially anything we want it to be, but what do we all really really desire. orgasms, cash and adulation or peace, love and the dreamtime of imagination and creativity. why not everything and nothing, there is no exclusion to experience if one is detached from what they experience. it's all flow or flux or perhaps fluxow?  

the water was aquamarine, still like the surface of a mirror, no reflections as i walk past the beach. it's busy, wintertime sun, it could be summer anywhere else. i often wonder how i got here, it feels like i awoke from a fairytale slumber, an enchantment. suddenly i live here, i'm a local. how did that happen?
the streets hum with activity, suburban seaside life in australia. mothers, coffee, surfers, everyone succumbed to elemental forces, invisible hands guide them through natural order and here i am, undercover chaos agent. i blend in like chameleon skin, an aura of unknowability, an invisibility cloak, defecting light, you can't really see me, you can't catch my angles as they always change.
my mission parameters are unknown, information is found in coded anomalies. i ching yarrow sticks are replaced by random natural vistas, a flock of birds, count them, one, three, five and seven, odd. a set of waves. tarot cards plucked from some subconscious dawn. my runes are drawn with fire in my frontal lobe. i am a walking divinatory nexus. 
my mission flows like the rivers, it swirls in vortex and ebbs through time, it is an ever shifting flux machine.
i sit on a bench and try to recall the agency, who sent me here, why this place and what am i seeking. like all fishermen i cast a line, backwards through the time flow, a delicate piece of code upon a complex cable. splash, it hits some tension and begins to sink. 
if memory is trickery and illusion it is filled with forgeries and fakes but the waters i swim in are tranquil and clear. light penetrates the darkness, the source code seeking out the mission. 
time cascades, it sucks everything backwards to the prime position. 
all players are in place. the game is afoot. 

   

An Andalusian Dog

in sudden blur of white flashed wings, the furious and the fast, the shrieking cockatoo, attitude and punk my garden is completely taken over by the rowdy crew. it's not just the cacophony but the way they line up on my balcony, their brazen command of the environment as they discover the bird seed i put out this morning and begin to wreck the joint. soon there are hundreds of them swooping down, these are big birds, bright fluro and proud. they squawk and even the other birds quit the garden.
i walk out amongst them, strange man in black surrounded by white wings and yellow flash of mowhawk. they don't seem to mind me, i notice more on the roof, there must be 50 of them up there and 30 down on the balcony. 
i see the bowl is where i left it, balanced precariously on a fern tree as a large king cockatoo ploughs his way through exotic seed. he must be the main bird of this flock. he's not stopping to look at me, his beak is deep in seed. 
a few moments later there's a new energy in the air, things here come to an end and the birds fly away. 
it's an australian moment.      

somedays they cry justice, somedays they weep mercy, all the tears and heartache sucked into an energetic hole as the magistrates are listless, and looking for a lunch their secretaries filing nails and letting telephones ring out. i pass the wishful thinkers, the dreamers and the lost, mere spores in the breeze floating without concern. some have headphones listening to tunes, some stick their face in magazines and gossip, lies manufactured bleeding through screens and pages torn. the gods of small things are the same as the gods of bigger ones, the gods all spin upon a higgs bosun. 

outside elements have spun a wonderfully bright clear spring day, the gardens vibration with renewal, the waves gently roll in lapping at rock. i stand above watching the shifting geology through slow time. the stillness makes me consider a zen like emptiness, a removal of matter. peace has nothing to do with freedom, it's only a side effect. side effects are everywhere, they slip into influences and change the fabric of reality. i am a side effect myself, weaving through like a string of code, hacking my way under the surface tension. 

am i source code, am i seeking the source. 

the high probability is i am both.

planetary alignment moon in pisces as my ship travels through some hard time. i walk out at midnight, the air crisp and clear like winter tastes of sharp angles. 
scattering of stars fill some skies, small spaces between are vast, it all looks deceptive from the safety of gravity. 
how do these rocks in space influence me.
everything influences everything.
distance is shattered by entanglement. 
cast far into tomorrow. 
pull out today.
cosmic wheels baby.
   

avoca beach sunday morning, the sound of tribal drumming beats a pulse through a crowd of winter wandering coasters wrapped in big coats, gloves, boots and scarves. mission weaves in and out of people, no crafts or cosmetics hold interest, he's looking for something he once a heard a rumour about but has never verified. 
vision scans the stalls, sensory overload, to many people, to many stalls, it goes long and deep. suddenly i see something unbelievable. fresh bagels, not what i came out for but a worthy find. i buy two blueberry ones and a seed one. 
deeper into the crowd i hear more music, this time some etherial girl child voice with that soft harmonic keyboard, i follow the vibe past the food stalls where paella is popular and weave through the queues of exotic mothers to what i think is the place i seek. the feather weaver. 
it's a pretty sophisticated set up, like a hairdresser and a massive selection of feathers. i make my selection and sit in the comfortable chair provided while the lady tells me she thinks i should be in finland.
'that's strange. i was there last year.'
'oh really! i felt you have this northern european spirit, a warrior, somewhere in finland i think.'
'well i must admit i loved it and felt very comfortable for such a cold climate, although i was there in summer.'
'what were you doing there?'
'looking for runes.'
'what are they?'
i proceed to tell her. we speak about a few other subjects she raises, surf at terrible beach, death and ravens. 
'you have a strong spirit,' she says, 'i felt it as soon as you entered.'
'thanks you, spirit is good but the flesh is weak,' i joke.
away from the crowds, away from the racket, away from the people and cars i catch glimpses of ocean, big breaking waves, big clouds hanging above. i find a coffee on the run. my face still aches and throbs, at least i am alive, breathing, kicking. life's full of surprises, i pass through them everyday.
   

captain mission wakes up on the floor laying in a pool of blood and smashed sculpture, face bruised and throbbing, knee aching. margo's gift to me brutus her black lion / panther lays in pieces, my silver surfer poster is broken and i have no memory of what happened. 
i clean up the mess and then address myself. mop up some blood, drink some water, lay down and try not to think about the pain in my face. its friday night. fight club night at my place is fright club night. 

sick again, the doctor says i am a mysterious case. he's a pretty good doctor as far as doctors go but he's got me on antibiotics, anti viral and bacterial infection drugs and some cough syrup that made my stomach seize up and almost kill me last night as i lay on the floor covered in sweat and unable to breath. 
'it's unlikely you will die,' he reassures me today.
we tested for whooping cough and it was negative so now it's just a matter of swamping me with various drugs. i hate this whole drug thing but i'm in need of help, last night shocked me. no one would ever know if i died, my body would be found a few weeks later i imagine.
everything is going wrong health wise, my body is falling apart. i hadn't eaten anything in four days, just water. i try some egg, it's no good, can only manage a mouthful. 
the coughing is taking its toll. this morning when i awoke i was laying in a blanket that was soaking wet and my sheets were saturated with sweat. i move from the bed to the lounge, leaving a trail of water like a huge sea snail slug type beast. later i chuck everything into the wash. 
i don't wanna be a mysterious case, i wanna be a cured one doc.
heal captain mission heal!

to much hate, everyones angry, spills onto the streets of cities, over the walls, up the roads and highways that connect great metropolis, like cancer in a body, to much hate is self destructive for the species but inevitable as things speed up towards a cataclysmic stand off. one nut-job with a dirty bomb, another with some vial of poison. the innocent get killed.
lines in the sand, ancient gods, prophets or profits, any old excuse. i wanna fill the world with love, flood it's atmosphere with love. i want my bombs to explode in peoples hearts and bloom like passionate flowers, romance, beauty, grace and some kind off peace.

maybe we have to enter the fire, burn down the night, tear down the walls, it's like growth and history, always the same lesson, revolutions in revolutions, intervals of peace and calm between the turmoil. it's our way, we burn down the walls and scorch the earth.

to many people squeezed into a small cube. tensions and temperatures rising up. competing ideas, meme wars, everyone infected with the overwhelming desire to be right. be right or die. my truth is truer than yours, and on it goes. here's three words i throw in the face of my enemy. liberte, egalite and fraternite.   

arctic conditions have obliterated terrible beach, crisp days, the light fractured and harsh, the rugged up civilians strolling on the waterfront as i scan the waves. the water is the azure impenetrable doorway, the wind it's nexus. it blows, it howls, creating havoc in the kingdom. 
i scan back to west berlin days, i scan back to canadian exile. was it ever this harsh. i had women to keep me warm, a kitchen where the oven was always on, i had bars i would lounge in and places i could crash that had heat and insulation. 
here i am alone. my knuckles ache with the wind, as i clamber away towards a cafe with heaters. i sit under, over and in front of their warming radiation, getting the cold out from my bones. the titanium elbow is almost blue from cold, i feel it throbbing it's metallic vibration. slowly i defrost.
coffee helps. 
there can't be much longer to go, a few weeks and the winter will be over, the winds will be warmer. 
it's not been a savage winter, fortunately quick but today and the last few nights have been uncomfortable. i rug up in my tiger suit, layers of clothes, two quilts and a huge furry blanket, a radio for company, it's to cold to read at night. early nights, 7pm, i'm already dreaming, early mornings i'm staying in dreams.   

i have book paralysis, after reading power of the dog and cartel i have struggled to start a novel, i read medusa but it was clunky and my experience was disjointed so now i am trapped in limbo. surrounded by towers of books, packed bookcases and unread novels i am lost, stuck, a lone wanderer in between worlds. 

it's a strange phantom zone, absurdist in a way as time fritters away and i drink my coffee scanning titles, eyes always stopping on irvine welsh, 'a decent ride.' 

mmm, i do like irvine.

i was going to write a long political rant but i can't be bothered now other to say casually what my beliefs are when it comes to politics.
basically i am apolitical in the sense i personally believe i can govern myself, my politics are spiritual. however there is a sociological aspect to politics i cannot ignore. 
the idea of left and right wings in politics is no longer relevant, the labour party no longer represents its base, the conservatives no longer represent their base, the idea of two ideologies has run it's course in the globalist agenda which are pursued by both parties with no consultation with the public. the greens are probably the party i dislike most, they are absurdly driven by the global agenda of the united nations, a corrupt and awful institution hell bend on creating a one world govt. unelected and anti democratic, they will use whatever means of fear they can including global warming. the greens are just a branch of the united nations, pushing agenda 21 down our necks, although they have changed it to agenda 2030 and their newest deception is sustainability. an ideal i like and understand but in their hands its a weapon.
so i am not a globalist whom believes in global government and no borders and humanity all living in harmony and peace. that ain't going to happen yet no matter how much i'd want it. not while people are enslaved to their ideology, and we have enough extreme examples of that. the best way to govern is to just be reasonable about local national interests. this is not that i am nationalistic in anyway, it's just the first wave of sorting out shit. the people who elected you have concerns about their own lives and futures, deal with that first. deal with the homeless living in sydney before accommodating any one else. it's pretty basic. let australian's afford their own homes before selling farmlands and strategic navel ports to china. no one here has noticed that china has restricted access to the south seas yesterday. that is major news yet it is not news. that's how much we are sold down the drain by the media. the media run australia, the abc are the most propagandist, pushing a dumb minority agenda upon the majority yet asking the majority to fund it. 
don't watch the abc, it's groupthink, it will reenforce your own ideas not challenge them. mix your news outlets, read your enemy's side of the story, maybe they are not the enemy, open yourself to new ways of thinking and looking at political ideology and get a wider picture not the one generated by every zombie in town. some liberal ideas are good, some green ideas are good some conservative ideas are good, but the idea we should think in black and white is a bad idea. 
i'm no socialist but i believe everyone should have a basic safety net for housing and health. don't give them money, just free roofs and food. when they are motivated to sort themselves out offer support but don't let people place themselves in situations where they are homeless or living in cars, that's absurd. 
i'm no capitalist but i like the free market when it functions reasonably not as it is where corporations force trade deals upon nations. no wonder the uk left europe, look at the restrictions placed upon the uk, absurd. it cannot be ignored we live in a global world but politics needs to be localised to individual countries, for charity and government begins at home. 
we can all start with the self, every individual needs to be educated in a holistic and unique way, rudy steiner was the man or that so let's get educating the young in accordance to his methods, the fantastic ken robertson updated his ideas for the english school revolution but they were never adopted. these are excellent ideas.
then when that generation know who they are, feel comfortable about themselves and their capacity and are engaged in work they find meaningful and satisfying, i think community will feel better about itself. individuals will start contributing politically in a constructive way. however there is a fundamental problem. 
the generation of australians who went through 'robertsons' education face a familiar problem. that is one of shared values. while they may share the same values about identity and respect, some group from another country may not. which is why problems of conflict arise. we need to acknowledge a shared value system that we are proud off and want to uphold. this is what being a citizen is about, civic responsibility. this is the problem people who are anti immigration are concerned about and for them it's legitimate just as for a refuge keeping family safe and protected from death is legitimate. the problem here in australia is the way no one is allowed to talk, discuss or debate issues about this without resulting in fear mongering. this is why i am apposed to restrictions on free speech, people should say what they want to say openly and let the society judge them for their words. 
in australia we have thanks to malcom's ego now got pauline hanson as a powerbroker in government. she is unreasonable, some of her ideas are stupid. but she is here and she represents people malcom ignored. just like cameron sacrificed himself to stop ukip and the rise of the nationalistic extremists malcom should have known better but he's all ego. he wants to be a dictator. he's an absolute disgrace and should resign in my opinion. the person who has more truth is hanson, she represents a view people have and while it's quite ridiculous it needs to be dealt with rationally and reasonably. first people should listen to what she's saying and then respond in reasoned arguments rather than attempting to close her down. we need to have this debate like reasonable people would, not call out names and accusations. the media will manipulate her anyway, remember the liberal govt. specifically tony abbott attempted to close her down by jailing her. she went to jail for two years before it was overturned. they did that so she would have a criminal record and never be a politician again. now she's the most powerful woman in govt. karma baby. let her speak, listen and respond but for fucks sake don't react in the way we are conditioned to. that will just reenforce her stance.
politics is a dirty business, all parties are guilty by nature of the structure, i'd recommend being a political animal but a spiritual being. that is, don't get attached to these ideas, just watch them play out and trust the universe. look at blair squirming now. soon it will be bush, if not now in the next life, every action has consequence, we may not comprehend how it all works but if we have faith it don't matter. nothing is random, it just appears it is. maybe that's my version of a one electron theory.