oh oh, there's panic in the world, theres panic in london, panic in the streets of islington, panic in the stanmore vicinity, panic in the notting hillbilly, panic in terrible terrigal, panic in the oceans and the seas, there's panic in the borough of hackney, panic in the roads of old avalon, panic in the air and panic in my hair. fucking panic everywhere.

investigations into my new idea prove worthwhile, however one must navigate the trenches of ridiculous australian red tape, and like all prison systems they want their slice of the pie. so i do the work and pay a strata of unimaginative vultures for the service of what appears to be some sort of racket. 
that's the thing about australia that most people don't know. i love it because it has a natural beauty that is unsurpassed. it's a frontier, a land mass on the edge of the world where everything is unique. what i loathe about it is the people who rule over us are corrupt, the systems they run corrupt and the average australians appear to worship this due to some convict prison romance.

i concluded a long time ago, the australian system has not changed since settlement, there are the convicts and the jailers and they all live together indistinguishable from one another. it's an open prison with the illusion of being democratic and free but the reality is your tax file number is your chain, and the government is your ball.
an example of this is the NBN which was dreamt up by an incompetent prime minister and his public service. we were told australia would have the most significant infrastructure ever, the national broadband network which would wire up every house to fibre optic cable thus opening the future up for everyone to join the new economy. business would boom, innovation could flow to the four corners of the globe, and australia would join the information superhighway in the super fast lane.
the result 10 years later is a white elephant. 
both parties are responsible, equally, labour and the liberal party. labour for having very poor organisational skills and blowing the budget. the liberals for just cost cutting, and generally taking the vision and turning it into some sort of no frills dinosaur. oh, and blowing the budget. in fact the current PM is really responsible as it was he that made all the terrible mistakes that now leave us with a $56 billion white elephant net that is already out of date and running so inefficiently half it's customers have complained to the ombudsman.
(i am one)
now apply this to every single idea the govt. has promoted.
the french submarines, $50 billion, spent to win one disgraceful minion his election. a useless outdated model that runs on diesel and cannot be delivered until fifty years from now. when all experts will tell you, by then every submarine will be a drone operated from a base on land and unmanned.
then there's the NDIS national disability insurance scheme, costing the tax payer  $21 billion. let me just say, this cost will double next year as i've been working with it and it's a major failure. 
now, you ask why do these ideas get supported by the people?
the answer is people here are easily seduced. they always have been, ask john friedrich who stole $296 million from the govt. 
a country of crooks ruled by the corrupt someone said to me, now i think that's a bit harsh but i see the point she is making and it's hard to disagree completely. the smart australians are the ones that leave.
our goverments are so bad, when they are not screwing the public they are knifing each other in the back. 
i personally cannot understand how the public tolerate this kind of governance. in europe they would be rioting, a guillotine erected outside their window as a reminder of whom they serve. but here it's a tv crew and some dumb abc journalists who all agree and enable this kind of rule. 
i'm a big believer in closing the abc down, public money wasted upon a dept. of propaganda. it's backed every hare brained idea they come up with and can't critically analyse at all. in fact the abc are probably the worst media machine for information i have ever seen, there is no balance at all. a fake institution if ever there was, pushing it's agendas at every opportunity it can.  

good to take the early train into the hive, meet my friends imi and iggy, have amazing northern chinese food, noodles made fresh and fast, eggplant in some sweet sour chilli type sauce. i like places with no frills, no posters, shiny menus, smiling waitresses, table clothes or paintings on the walls, this is bare and simple. it's cheap and excellent. 
we walk along into the japanese book shop where i pick up 'blood year' by david kilcullen which details the massive failure of obama and the rise of isis. i'm particularly interested in his comments about isis now, they lost the battle for land but the west is where the war will be fought and it ain't over baby. in fact it's only just beginning. kilcullen wrote an essay for the quarterly from which this book is built around and i'm looking forwards to getting my teeth into it.

however on the train i read a short story by laird barron, the forest and wow, that guy is amazing. i'm going to have to finish 'occultation' before starting blood year.

iggy gives me some constructive feedback on my new work, he's dead right, as usual. switched on guy. we part ways, imi and iggy go looking for a suit and i slip away back to mission control. 

those words that leak like snakes from lips that can't stay closed. there's so much hurt in everyone you touch and you just make it worse. your influence traverses distance and time, it rots the very sparks of life, enabled by a good man who married the wrong wife.

my existence would be snuffed like cosmic dust, a life of happenstance, the gods of words and irony bellow up above, for that's theres nothing unconditional in a rotten mothers love.

the toxic emotions are corrupted, they are cynical and mean, for once where there was beauty now it is unseen. in a narcissistic streak that lasted many years, let it be known now, all you brought were tears. age will not wear you down or erode your bitter taste, all the fucking time you had to love you just always chose to hate. 

https://youtu.be/JhS4iHOiags

please buy the new live cd from shriekback : it's brilliant!

expect only beauty, the rest is unpredictable, yes clever wordplay and beautiful soundscapes but here lies a new sound, less rock more roll, the roll of waves, the surf is here, in the sound, it's pouring through the headphones, i only see it now it exists within me. i had no evidence to show what direction the church would move in, they are on their own trajectory, always have been a band that does not follow fashion but follows the flow. 
the flow takes them to this pivotal piece of music, where the intricacies of coral reefs lay spawning under full moons, and the octopus of sounds weaves through cites made of beauty and playgrounds for the seahorses. there's something very innocent that catches the light, but there's also the depths, the places only experience could take you, it's light music with some heavy soul. hey, if you want a title like man, woman, life death infinity then you got a have some weight. i was stumped first listen,it was thing of beauty, a magnificent journey but it was unlike anything i had heard from the church previous. that's what i love, it takes a brave band to do that. 
my fave songs, fog and dark waltz. 

i'm still writing my book, it's cnsumed me as the plot is very complex and sometimes i loose my way. i try not to over complicate things but it's tricky. i got to chapter three and realised it was not quite right. it wasn't where i wanted the story to go, i had hit a wall. so i threw myself in the surf, it was freezing, my heart nearly exploded but the wave was there. and i figured it out. spent the day writing chapter three again. 
it's a big idea. 

i'm writing a book. it's good. it's got sex death and art.

managed to catch up with iggy in the city today, had a great chat about politics, art and australian culture, had some interesting fig drinks, checked out a few bookshops. walking through sydney i see how the food culture is prevalent, everyone is a masterchef, it's okay, i like food and the asian heavy pop up shops are cool. however it would be nice to see more bookshops.  

the project with the other writer is doomed, she is talking to much and not writing, i don't think she actually has the imagination to be the kind of writer i like or would want to work with, maybe it's just me, anyhow, the parts i wrote i have taken and morphed into a new story, a novel. it's pretty much an epic and i am working on it currently. i will probably self publish as soon as it's complete.

i think the other writer would be better suited towards something investigative or research based. 

the body of work was burnt by fire, a lifetime consumed and obliterated, ash floating in the air currents. dust.
it's where history lays, it's where we all end up, it's end of the line, end of time. ash and dust are the past and the future. 
all the endeavours of man, all the monuments and art, all the effort. i guess that's why the optimists say its not the destination it's the journey. so what's the point of anything?
it's to create.
not for the result but for the act. it's what our brains are for, it's what love is, its what god is, its what art should be. 
i've been looking at art movements lately and i love the situationists, a true movement towards liberating but they have made one fundamental mistake which is to think das kapital is not the spectacle. it is very much part of the spectacle for while karl and engels were sipping on their expensive chardonnay's writing about redistribution of wealth their work was turned into pop cultural politics we see today. 
the working classes are no longer represented by the left leaning governments. the labour is not valued by the labour movement, ask craig thompson how much he values his members and he will say, 'as long as they pay for my strippers and hookers i'm a socialist.'
while guy deboard was one of the worlds greatest thinkers in my opinion he was mistaken that marxism was the answer. it can't be because it is part of the spectacle.
especially now, with the rise of the internet and social media. the spectacle permeates all things, it moves through the post truth world, it radiates in causes  in memes and commentary  it fractures society so the truely alienated are the ones with differing views. inversion philosophy. all things that are true must contain their paradox. alister crowley was right. lao tau was correct. laurel and hardy are the righteous.       

the water is shockingly cold but i adapt fast, it's still surface licks at my skin, no wave. no old wave, no new wave, just no wave and i do. i know the wave. it's going to take me away from where ever i am and i will find myself somewhere new. in that space will be something pure and liberating. all i have to do is wait for it to arrive, catch it at the right point and love the experience with pure joy. simple. 

not sure what occurred in london but my taste buds suddenly took on a new appreciation for indian food. look, i  have always liked indian food but only when my grand mother made it and that was at a late age, in early adulthood. i had infrequently gone out to indian restaurants but always chosen the same item from a menu no matter where i was, the palak panner. 
when my friends tez and jean visited me we ate a few meals at indian restaurants as they seemed to be connoisseurs, strangely something most english people have within their genetic make up, possibly due to the high number of indian places open after pubs shut in london, plus india has pervaded english culture and the two are intrinsically connected which is a good thing. the empire is now  being colonised democratically. 
anyway's in london i had a few indian meals and tried something called a biryani which i have to say was amazing. 
on return to australia i have searched for the same type of quality, i even attempted to home cook it but my attempt was dismal. 
so last night i got a call from two old friends whom are moving to new zealand and they wanted to see me and go to the indian restaurant we all love in terrible beach. 
on my fridge there was a take away menu so i scanned the meals hoping they would do a biriyani otherwise i'd default back to panner palak. no sign of the sacred biriyani. 
so at the restaurant i was about to order my spinach dish when i saw the specials board and thus my desires were granted.
it was perfect.
this restaurant is quite simply the best indian on earth. i can't eat this food every week but maybe once every month or two would be fine, it's a beautiful spot and an eating experience. and if you need to rekindle the romance there's a hotel next door and these spring evenings as you stroll along the beach walking of a decent meal all sorts of possibilities are open. 
  

situationist internationale

i am in collaboration with a friend who wants to write. she is obsessed by crime and like a lot of australian girls seem to read a lot of true crime books. 
i suggest two characters  her and me, the female is a hard drinking, hard fighting, hard talking aggressive alpha female who possesses all the qualities of a male whereas i am the quiet bookish introspective loner. more female. 
the inversion of roles goers against every modern drive in fiction, especially as the female is a husband basher.
my writing partner will write the crime scene. i will add some flourish and conversation to introduce the main characters. 
let's see how we progress.

not quite the soft focus not quite the hard, things slip in and out of some points in time and space, flickering existence, fluttering life. i don't know anymore, i want to let it all go, just exit stage left and take another part in a new play but the script says i have  more lines to speak so i will have to complete the performance.

north korea is shooting missiles across the islands off japan, it is a reckless act of defiance by a mad dictator. with capability to launch anywhere and strike the american heartland i imagine there will be some kind of retaliation, there has to be, it's the right action to so much provocation. japan has no army, no war machine, it is dependant upon it's allies and in many ways it is the front line along with the south who do have a military and capacity to strike back. 
complex games in the sea of japan. butterfly wings ripple cause that may effect australia but will certainly provoke an american move. 
hang on to your self.  

up before the dawn, i slept deeply in a soft night of vermillion dreams. the episodes all fall from my head like strange foam bubbles, filling up the void. when i walk down it's still dark even birds are not awake. 
i drive down to the ocean, watch the sunrise. i sip on a coffee and feel the stillness, the gentle splash of tide, the wind circulates, my heart beating strong. 
life without pan.

the days of night, the september country, the forgotten memory, the ironic state. the mental catastrophe of variations in inertia. spring heeled mission, the limehouse captain, captain tripper, the cockney reject, the prodigal sun.
walking along the beach with my friend who is wrapped in salvation i look out at the water, still and gentle, calmness tranquility waves caress my skin like the warm kisses after sex with an ocean nymph.
the dying winter sunlight on the cusp of spring, crisp surface tension stretches out to the horizon, in the distance a shoreline north. 
we have walked a long way, up the strange place they call skillion, to the lookout where the wrecks of many ships are detailed in stone. sunken treasure, like all good rewards awaiting discovery. 
     

twelve hour flight, a marathon jaunt from the nasty technological security systems where my prized mint sauce was taken by a fucking robot in uniform to kuala lumpur where they steal a tiny tube of tooth paste from me. but it's not 100mg i protest. rules he says. but i already had it approved by the uk customs and you guys when i checked in. rules, he says. i hand him the 100mg and mutter stick the toothpaste and your rules.
the second leg of the flight was empty, i nab four seats and sleep the entire way arriving fresh. e tickets rule, efficient and stress free. my driver waiting for me.
mission control looks lonely. 
in the morning i head dow to the beach for my routine swim and coffee. it's brilliant, clean, fresh and sunny. the birds natter away, colour fills the skies, everything back to paradise. but i miss people, family i hung out with, jakob. it's a strange feeling.
i have a few days before i get back to work. a few days to work out what comes next. 

wandering back from hackney, i see fragments of a london left behind, drunk girls falling out of cars clutching their cans of special brew but letting go of any dignity, shrill broken cries of desperate attention, lost souls almost ghosts. jake and i avoid the drama, we dance on peripheral, he goes off to work while i follow my nose down brick lane to the bagel shop. brick lane, half of it traditionally trendy and cool, the other a dump, derelict weary buildings cold and damp penetrating the fabric of culture, curry houses ad infinitum, dodgy looking taxi companies fronting for the some bangladeshi cult. the massive city looming over my head reminds me london is a saudi city. economics always wins, govts always sell their soul, it's the devils business, politicians sell their soul and then your country. a global problem far to late to unravel.
in rough trade i hear some music played loud, it's got something familiar about it, something interesting. i ask the man who tells me it's an australian compilation of electronica. ironic, can't escape the place. although i consider myself english i cannot vote here, neither can i vote in australia, yet i have now lived over half my life in australia and feel less connected to the uk than ever.
later i find myself in soho, my old haunts, wadour street, brewer street, all cleaned up and looking spiff, nice niche shops, trendy well dressed individualistic types, jazz man, it's like watching jazz sprawling out in three dimensional space, i like it. this tiny area will always be my london.