'turn right at the butterfly nebula
follow the signs to anteries 7
take the third exit and fuck man we are lost to...'

space is beautiful, it turns me on.

the deep fix rehearsal without computer technology we are forced into a different direction, a new song nevin has orchestrated, it's a drone, with a jazz bit that quickly morphs into space rock and then back to drone. i like it, although it takes me a while to work out where to sing the words, s strange song called, 'the killing joke.' the bass is awesome and louis plays some sexy sax parts that are kinda sound almost hawkwind like. it's still strange having a drummer, i like it but i'm uncertain if its the sound i want.
i'm now starting to think about a spin off project called, 'the deeper fix'
this would concern itself with the conceptual work i want to do, 'esoterotica' and 'snuff music' and 'music for books' plus various soundtracks. i'm almost on the verge of writing the words for snuff music, the ideas are formulating, they are like a dense cloud of gas swirling together in a massive explosion and gradually forming a solid.

imagination is a powerful tool, it constructs everything we perceive.
imagine running, fast, you are running very fast, as fast as you can imagine within the bounds of plausibility. sweat forms a thick slime between your skin and the clothes you wear, each breath is a cycle of motion forwards and away from, a rhythm unconsciously tuned into the reptile aspect of the brain. this run is attached to survival, you run as though there is no other choice, each leg thrusts before you alternatively, each foot propelling itself from gravity, each arm a driving piston pumping. your eyes focused forwards upon hyper reality, colours enhanced and vivid like a dream like state, more real than real, this is life. your teeth bite down, gritted together, and there's pain, searing pain, the pain is everywhere, it starts in the gut but works its way through the flesh, through the nerves to the extremities where it leaks out through the pores in pheromone frenzy. you are alive. you have never felt more alive.
death is certain, it follows you like a electron orbits the nucleus, you know it is there behind you, over your shoulder, upon your heels. you know it is relentless, it does not cease, it does not falter, it does not distinguish or discriminate, when your number is up baby, it is up. if there were time for contemplation you may come to the conclusion that the only choice is to turn around and look death in the eye and laugh at it as it claims you but this is unthinkable now so you run, ever faster and faster, without looking back. then in that slow motion close up, as the camera sees your face, unshaven, the white uniform maintenance of well groomed teeth clenched together, the look of terror in your eye, the hint of forbidden knowledge because you can smell death upon you, getting closer and closer and as blood flows from the heart directed and distributed by millions of years evolution it suddenly stops. you may find your hands momentarily clutch at your chest. death proclaims 'may god have mercy upon your soul.'
and then you may just find the body gives up and gravity take over, you may have enough time to whisper some last words. they escape your lips like a soft whisper carried upon your last breath.
'why not? after all it belongs to him.'

strangely i attract such problematic people, complexities confront me as i walk my path, and what a path, crazy man, up down in out leading around in circles, here there and everywhere but somehow moving forwards all the time, yet traveling back and forth like a like a water tiger as they gravitate to me, they meet my stare and they fall frozen in awe, they meet humility and they have to destroy it. there is no middle ground with govt. people, agents of evil. i am destined to abandon them. it's written in the stars.

nevin lent me a cd by scott walker, it's one i have on vinyl purchased when it was released but have not been able to play due to not owning a record player. it's called climate of the hunter and i remembered vividly buying it and playing it, that bass line was incredible and then his voice, booming out in baritone, just like a sonic boom each word has its own power. transcendence, but i had forgotten about the amazing last track a sparse blues that just sparks the imagination, as i see a lone horseman trekking through the mountains of the mid west on a white horse as he comes to the river. it's an evocative piece melancholy and empty with a few words, perhaps the only words that actually have a linear feel to them on the whole album.

when i crossed to the river
with a heavy blanket roll
i took nobody with me
not a soul
i took a few provisions
some for comfort
some for cold
but i took
nobody with me
not a soul

where has this figure come from ?
where is he going ?

i love this song as it has space and mystery and sadness. all the ingredients of a perfect song.

dream
agent stone and some others in some sort of weird orgy, in some kind of strange apartment which could be somewhere in germany or the us, inconspicuous area. i'm an observer, partly enthralled and partly stunned by the tackiness of the whole scene as a visitor from the hall peers into the open doorway and offers to participate. he removes his pants and then i wake up somewhat disturbed.
later i connect the dots and recognize i'm reading houellebecq, things seem to suddenly make strange sense. i'm like a character in one of his novels, the bland mundane meets the need to transcend.

the houellbecq i read is his biographical essays on hp lovecraft, 'against the world, against life.' which is brilliantly written and makes lovecraft totally human.

i have recommended 'prince of nothing' to a friend and i am excited that he is to read this amazing series.

work meanwhile...
what is it about the public service that attracts the usual suspects, born agains, jealous and envious people who have nothing better to do to do than compete against their peers, people whose illegitimate anger fuels their destructive nature where the moral high ground is to be conquered not reflected upon. jesus was a human, he was a political animal, a revolutionary, he was a guy who was flawed but a man of our times, yet he conquered his own anger and understood that life is pointless without the idea of love and he is right about this, as are all great teachers. to build a church around this and other religious teachers is a strange construct when essentially the message is the same. may as well build one around google.
oh! look some one has...

The Church of Google offers what it calls nine proofs:

1. Google is the closest thing to an omniscient (all-knowing) entity in existence.

2. Google is everywhere at once (omnipresent).

3. Google answers prayers. (''As an example, you can quickly find information on alternative cancer treatments, or new and innovative medical discoveries, and generally anything that resembles a typical prayer.'')

4. Google is potentially immortal.

5. Google is infinite. (The internet can theoretically grow forever.)

6. Google remembers all.

7. Google can do no evil. (Google's corporate philosophy is ''do no evil''.)

8. Google is believed. (The term ''Google'' is searched for more than the terms ''God'', ''Jesus'', ''Allah'', ''Buddha'', ''Christianity'' and ''Islam'' combined.)

9. Evidence of Google's existence is abundant. No faith is required.

see you at church i guess

the deep fix rehearse a shambolic set last night under the full moon, with a new drummer mr. ian paice, fresh from deep purple to the deep fix. it's strange having a human drummer, it could work, although i imagine the repetitive patterns would become difficult for him, i'm conflicted about the sound, it's so different. i don't really want a rock drum sound but it's early days and we still have to find our feet a bit. i was having trouble hearing and got lost several times.
i did get a chance to talk about stuff with val, the ideas are pouring out from left as in sinister axis, he's like a portal to a universe thats leaking into ours, i am just part of a story, a dimension.
the future holds great things in store.
chatting to our eccentric guitarist i discover he has an amazing concept in his head that is waiting to be revealed. and it is amazing. all these ideas coming together in convergence. all these amazing people on tangents that don't belong anywhere else, i'm for once surrounded by people i respect immensely and really like. these are people who are so far outside the box there is no box. and our time is now.
i better go learn my words.

dream
i'm attending the very private function hosted by the american presidential candidates of unknown parties, possibly republican and democrat but it's very low key and only a select few are there so i have no idea how i am in attendance. the location is two homes in a quite suburban street that face one another, there's a few cars outside and lots of security but it would appear to the civilian as nothing more than a lavish dinner party. there i am walking from one house to the other with a group of people, one of whom is the vice president of one of the parties, we are approached by a dude in a black suit.
the vice president says, 'that's mr ? he's an arms dealer, he don't care who gets voted in, it makes no difference to him.'
he walks up to us and says in a loud brash voice, 'ha you gotta watch this, my new weapon i'm testing, well mr. smith is, he's just parking the car. listen.'
suddenly we hear an explosion and see a plume of rising smoke. a moments silence and then mr ? starts to laugh.

we all move into the lounge area of the house, i'm approached by several people wanting my attention. i wake up.

outside the flats on grandview drive evan my friend who has returned from the farm is discussing stars with me, we are pondering why stars appear to move in the sky and as evan explains his questions and i fathom for an answer a thought hits us. here outside these apartments on a friday evening its probable that people behind the walls often hear drunken conversations, along the line off..

'ere wot you doings kissing my girlfriend?'
'shuf up you fuck wit shazza is aving my baby.'

nope tonight they would be overhearing a conversation about astro dynamics and the elliptical orbit of the earth.

The Prince of Nothing is a series of three fantasy novels by the Canadian author R. Scott Bakker, first published in 2004, part of a wider series known as "The Second Apocalypse". This trilogy details the emergence of Anasûrimbor Kellhus, a brilliant monastic warrior, as he takes control of a holy war and the hearts and minds of its leaders. Kellhus exhibits incredible powers of prediction and persuasion, which are derived from deep knowledge of rationality, cognitive biases, and causality, as discovered by the Dûnyain, a secret monastic sect. As Kellhus goes from military leader to divine prophet, Drusas Achamian, the sorcerer who mentored Kellhus, comes to realize that his student may well be the harbinger of the Second Apocalypse.
The key feature distinguishing the Prince of Nothing series from its contemporaries is the importance of philosophy to the work. The plot, characters, setting, and metaphysics of the Prince of Nothing are intertwined with philosophical positions unique to the series.
Bakker has mentioned that this series was primarily influenced by the works of Tolkien and Frank Herbert.

i've just finished reading the trilogy of books that make up the series and although i have no real enthusiasm for fantasy books this was a brilliant concept, remarkably executed and although very demanding and challenging well worth the three weeks it took to read. here bakker plays with ideas of Nietsche and Kant with some zen type concepts along the journey, i lost myself in the complex characters and rich world particularly his use of magickal schools and their branches of magick, thank god for the glossary at the back of the third book which is about half the thickness of the actual book. i won't be diving into fantasy again as books like these are very rare but i certainly feel the genre has come a long long way since the hobbit.

what is art?
what makes one persons art better than another?
why do artists seem to create something then manufacture an construction to explain it?
is art a fraud?
is it intention?
is it craft?

i'm discussing these points with a friend in newt town, i like his thought process unravelling the artificial aspect of everything, i like his trajectory but i feel he is missing a vital ingredient. art is often directed by the subconscious, therefore the intention is not often conscious and only through transpersonal exploration do we see what direction we are being driven.
a craftsman is not necessarily an artist, intention is sometimes unknown to the conscious mind, the art industry is a fraud but art is genuine, artists are driven to find meaning in things that often don't have meaning therefore the construction can be dechipered after the creative act, either by the artist of the viewer. there is no way one mans art can be measured by another all creative arts are equal in merit. art is the manifestation of an idea via the creative act.
these are my answers to the questions.

lets get metaphysical

A thermodynamics professor had written a take home exam for his graduate students. It had one question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Support your answer with a proof." Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools off when it expands and heats up when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following: First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So, we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and the rate they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added. This gives two possibilities: #1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose. #2. Of course, if Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over. So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Ms. Therese Banyan during my Freshman year, "That it will be a cold night in Hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then #2 cannot be true, and so Hell is exothermic.

The student got the only A.

went to see the kranski sisters at the opera house, very unique, kinda strange, three australian gothic sisters, slightly twisted but one of a kind. they did some great tunes, simple arrangements yet very effective. 'pull up to the bumper' was a highlight. i don't know how they keep a straight face. it was good to catch up with val and olga, we met with my brother and had a few drinks before walking down to circular quay. i've discovered a vodka bar that's kinda cozy.

many years ago i played in a strange r and b punkish band called the 'blue meanies' i think we even played a gig, my memories are very hazy. i was a young petulant kid with dumb attitude and no talent, just hanging out with some rock rebels finding my way in the world. we rehearsed a few times in a big house in south london, in the attic. i recall two brothers, one was terry, i think he played guitar. he was good. i never really got to know him, in fact i probably irritated the hell out of him, being a terrible front man, i'm no entertainer and i had not found my voice. i didn't understand music very well, i didn't know anything, just a horrible teenager with punk attitude. anyway terry was always the wise one, he seemed to embody the daoist ideal, lead from the back. he was kinda strong in presence and knew some good riffs. i think we all went to see bo diddly together but i really can't recall. anyways terry is the geezer who left the comments and i was so happy to hear from him, terry if you are out there write me an e mail, captainmission@thedeepfix.com i'd love to re connect and apologize for my arrogance, naivety and possibly stupidity and maybe if your up for it hear about what you are up to these days.

ps. terry, you are quite correct, you defier of theories, i hope you delve into my musings and you will see that my ideas are ever changing, always contradictory and filled with strange ideas that may or may not be true, bits of prose, memories in future tense and some kinda diary like ravings. i often have no idea what i am writing. great to hear from you and best wishes man, please drop me an e mail.

hanging out in opium dens in east berlin's turkish quarter i had a chance encounter with a serpent from the government, a beaurocrat who peddled in petty information and cheap gossip designed to look like diplomacy, he was a strange individual, some kind of malevolent energy hung around him like a bad aura leak. i didn't want to get to close to him and his radioactive fallout but he kept encroaching into my space man. opium dens have an unwritten code of conduct, one being you don't interfere with another clients narcotic states, but this snake was obviously beyond following etiquette as he smashed into my colours and spoke in his strange accent making petty introductions and small talk, i had half closed eyes and the other half was at some desert oasis drinking fresh water and having oils massaged into my loins by two slave girls with exotic perfume and nice friendly eyes, the closer i got to them the closer he seemed to intrude until i was confronted by a small snake with tiny pin prick pupils and a pencil thin mustache.
'and your....?' he was saying n a high pitched irritating snake voice.
'your what?'
'your name is...?'
i paused and thought hard, he seemed to get frustrated and said, 'my name is blank. what is your name?'
'ahh,' i sighed, 'blank huh?'
'yes, and you are...?'
'mission' i replied but i was bored and wanted to escape back into my dreams.
'i cannot reveal your mission until i have your name sir.'
curiosity perked me, a mission, mmm this whacko government official has confused me with some one else, but here i am in this place at this point in time and he won't leave me alone, so i decide to play along.
'i cannot reveal my name to you mr. blank, until i have seen your id.'
'most irregular. i assure you i am who i say i am.'
'yes we are both who we say we are.'
he breathed out and moved even closer.
'your target is in the regency hotel, she is staying in suite 7, top floor,' he thrust an envelope at me, 'here are the details and half the sum as promised. the other half on completion'
with that he got up and disappeared into the smoke filled atmosphere. i returned to my oasis satisfied i had perceived his id. what an ugly id it was.
after a shower i changed into my suit and caught a taxi over to the regent hotel, i picked up a bunch of iris's from the hotel foyer and re read the file as the elevator made its rounds.
she was a piece of work, nice looking educated and deadly. i liked the look of her eyes, there was nothing there, they penetrated you with their emptiness.
later as i knocked upon her door a voice, her voice asked who it was.
'mission' i said.
the door opened and she stood before me in a gorgeous deep red outfit. her eyes were even more vacant than her photograph and she had dangerous lips. i handed her the envelope. even her nail polish was vivid red, the colour of blood.
'so have you come to kill me?'
'no. i have just come.'
'well that's a shame, what are you good for?'
'well i can always come again.' the double entendres were taking over and things were not going the way i planned. i stepped inside.
she let me.
the room was sparse but huge and there was quite a large and well filled drinks cabinet.
'come on in, can i fix you a drink or would you prefer something slightly more exotic?'
'exotic.'
she walked over to an oriental ornate cabinet and pulled out a pipe, an opium pipe. she beckoned towards the bed. i sprawled out upon its soft cushions. she stood tall, gradually her lips seemed to come towards me, massive huge lips blocking out the room, i was lost in that kiss, and when i opened my eyes i was back in the opium den with the monotonous govt. official.
'so what is your name,' he said.

i cast a sad reflection , somewhere in my forties, a strange individual, pottering around casting strange incantations and messing with the cosmos, i came unto a strange revelation, a scientific and great mystical truth and i dare any one to defy it's reason.
everything started with the big bang, we are part of that process and everything around us is part of that process, therefore everything shares the same father, for want of a better word. and in it's incredible diversity life as we know it on planet earth has but one unifying code, the dna. in fact dna is the life, humans are just one manifestation of the experiment. and dna is actually evolving not humanity.
sadly humanity doesn't seem to be evolving at all, a classic example of this follows

some one who has great power over me, a woman i can't say i like but i am forced into a situation where i have to at least be diplomatic approached me the other day. she was telling me how she was working with some tibetans and how she loved their Buddhist attitude and how she was a Buddhist and how if only evil israel adopted a Buddhist approach to the Palestinians then everything in the world would be hunky dory. I agreed because to argue the point would be pointless. Later that evening she locked her daughter in a room as a punishment, i could hear the screaming, 'mummy i want to go to the toilet' which lasted about two hours. i was very disturbed but as i said i am in a position where if i act it would work against me. so i go about my own business casting no judgement but jesus fucking christ, some people are just dumb.

i watched an episode of a show called torchwood, a friend had burnt a few shows on a disc, the show was about 5 hours long, called, 'children of earth' and wow, it was excellent although it could have been longer and slightly more detailed. however it was a very confronting tv show.

i also went over to help val, who was moving studios, it was good to see him although he was a bit stressed out. i really count him as part of my tribe, he's an amazing guy and his moment is coming.

i know i know but i do love this. genius.

under the illusion that today was payday i booted up the olde laptop and logged into my account only to find it empty, ahhh i shrieked as i grabbed my phone to confirm it was actually pay week. once again completely out of time, pay week is next week, which means for the next few days i am going to have to survive on what i have, this will be interesting as i scout around the kitchen looking for stuff, mmm, lots of rice, lots of oats, lots of herbal teas and condiments. mmm nothing i can actually eat though unless you count eating a jar of mint sauce as a meal. okay well i can do it, i have my secret weapon, a big bag of dope.
this will get me through the weeks famine.

i have been reading a few books, the devils paintbrush a fantastic story set in paris as a disgraced general meets the infamous alister crowley. i loved reading this, well written evocative of a time long gone, and a great story.

i read the strain, a kinda hio tech vampire book, set in nyc and although it gets off to a great start i kinda got disinterested in it as it progressed although i will read the sequels.

the other book i read was a little history of the world which although explains history for children is so well researched and written adults could enjoy it as well. i did.

in bondi on my brothers dodgy small computer so forgive me if i make mistak3es.
i should be in kograh erehearsing with the fix but val is busy so we have a weekend off. instead i'm goona chill out with my brother and wander down the markets looking at the junk they have for sale, get some breakfast and have a lok at some old bookshops.