a woman from ancient japan offers me some white light, i sit down as she chants her incantations, i close my eyes and immediately i am standing on an island, it's a beautiful day and there's a warm breeze against my skin, i can feel it upon my face. when i come around half an hour has passed, it's raining heavily, i am cold and slightly miserable.

i thank her and head back to mission control, loaded down with eggs, rhubarb, leeks and some raw cocoa. i'm uncertain why i have these products, i know i will use them in the next week.

dr crack is driving me home, i'm not sure if i want to confront him about his orloff game, this little puppet master thinks he can pull all my strings but he can't, he is bemused by me, i don't fit into his map, it's undiscovered territory and he's frightened, just like he's frightened of the jaguars in the amazon.
crack is talking about global conspiracy, he's been reading icke and it's infected him, he's running it all by me, at least he's honest enough to ask me am i a lizard, to which i mention i forgot to pick up a bag of flies, i also fleetingly think i am the lizard king but i keep my cards close to my chest.
'what if there were no lizard conspiracy, what would it be, giraffe cabals, fucking dolphin cults, or how about octopi gangs, you fear the unknown, you gotta give it a name, it's apophenia, a coiled piece of rope looks like a serpent, is it?'
'what's apophenia?'
'it's finding meaning in something where other's don't.'
'is that what icke does?'
'yeah, half the planet does it, he just makes a fortune from it.'
crack clams up, he talks a little bit about the weather and then murmurs something about cooking, then when we pull up outside mission control i jump out.
i run through the rain, it's very cold, a wild wind blows into my face and i run up my steps clutching my vegetables. i crash through and my phone starts going mental.
'what do you make of the illuminati?'
'a bunch of post scientist mystics who bear you or their fellow man no ill will.'
'not satanists then?'
'no, not at all, in fact they are luciferian.'
'how do you know.'
'i hang up'

kate bush - wild man

SPOILERS AHEAD

i'm not quite sure why ridley scott would say prometheus is not a prequel to alien when it is. it is also an independent film from alien that shares some thematic references and narratively entwines in a direct undeniable way, but i think he does himself a disservice to say it is not a prequel to a great film like alien. promethuis is independently great to in a very different way, it shares a similar intelligence, very good performances and script, it shares some familiar sets, motifs and hardware but the central theme here is about two archeologists looking for the 'engineers' of life on earth in deep space, and not finding what they hoped for but that's the only difference, in most other ways it's a repeat of alien.

i was really looking forwards to this film, i love science fiction, i think it's a very intelligent genre and imaginative as well but most of all its subversive. mr. scott takes on the ultimate subversion in his quest for god, and he answers some of that question but as always a good question only leaves another new one.

the main character is brilliantly endearing, she's pre ripley but could be a riply clone, the android from wayland is played by the brilliant micheal fassbender who channels dave from 2001 and lawrence of arabia a la peter o toole and i think david bowie from the man who fell to earth, and the captain is idris elba who answers the films most fundamental question and the super bitch mission director is the very attractive charize theron, so the pedigre of acting is peak, although there was something very wrong about the english girl in a dream sequence, it felt like she was reading from a script. 

i feel that despite being a fantastic film it was a sell out to the blockbuster ethos, it took a u turn into the usual alien type film, the goo, slime and monsters, the human decapitations and awful cronenberg type deaths were unnecessary because science fiction don't need all the horror, it just requires the ideas. 

there as some disturbing scenes in this film, but the awe is saved for the landscapes and the encounter with our makers, the big space vessels and the decision the main protagonist makes at the end. 

this is worth seeing on a big screen, i recommend it, i loved it but it was not the film i thought and it was not as good as it could have been. ridley scott contact me, for i have the ultimate science fiction story, it has everything, subversion, sex, big questions, big answers, yes really ridley, stop wasting time with these mass market formula fodder and get back to basics, great ideas.

reasonable me, walking my dog looking quite reasonable in my sensible clothes and reasonable attitude, i bid good morning to those i pass, i bear no ill to my enemy, i have a friendly disposition and have a reasonable attitude to all things, all people, all types. i flow through a reasonable day, between non offence and acceptance, i adopt reasonable posture and eat reasonable food, i exude my reasonable outlook towards a reasonable future while my disappointment in myself is reasonable and my acceptance of yours is equal, i am neither here nor there, good or bad, i'm a shade of grey, i wear neutrality on my sleeve, i take no sides, i am indeed moderate in my intention. 
my health is reasonable as is my intellect, my heart offers a reasonable capacity for love and my spiritual relationship with the universe is reasonable. i have a reasonable growth of stubble on my reasonably proportioned face, i exude reasonable commentary and observation, i am indeed the archetype of reasonability.
or am i incognito, working undercover, maybe it's all a front, a mask behind a mask, for underneath my true self is a strange unknowable entity, ever changing, a mass of contradiction, a paradox, a foolish soothsayer, a blind visionary, a warlord of peace and love, a slayer of self, a warlocked out, shamanistic, magickian amongst the non alcoholic spirits and table knocking mediums or moderates, unhinged ideas, super ego less vague road lesser travelled, wandering a wasteland, discombobulated entity and floating sensationalist, ecstatic travel through dimensional shifts and zones of thoughts, fleeting and reoccurring dreamer, shapeshifting, alien, a lonely old cosmonaut drifting through time, stepping out of this world into yours, on a jet black night, venus and neptune, watery glyphs, sigils and portal de rossi what knot, who knows anything really?  

VENUS IN TRANSIT

tuesday morning, i'm considerably richer, orloff made good on his word, which brings its own dilemma, for now i have to produce a result. i've already cracked the book, its pretty obvious it's a treatise on the goddess, and a very early feminist manifesto, what is proving rather tricky is producing the first translated  copy that was published.
no message from paulo or his contacts but i've send out a hyper hydra search virus, it's a simple and elegant piece of code that searches search engines, you just need to target your prey with the correct information, which in this case is fairly narrow, but within a few hours the virus will have embedded itself into every e mail or web page that contains information relating to the original text. the virus is not really a virus, it leaves no trace or forensic evidence, it merely acts as a ghost in the machine, i do the same with orloff, but i suspect the name is a pseudonym, i play around with anagrams but loose focus. 
i can obtain replications, i can get faxed versions but what orloff has requested is an original translation, the first one. the trouble with these is the translator can only hazard an educated guess at these type of books, it's all smoke and mirrors and  'love in a dream' is mostly smoke where the mirror should be and mirror where the smoke is expected. every translation will read unique due to the fact it was written in several different languages to begin with. 
around midday orloff rings, 'tick tock, i need it before venus crosses the sun mission.'
'i can't get you the first translation, my contacts are limited and it's an extremely rare book anyway.'
'tell me what you know so far?'
'i know you're not who you say you are.'
'the book mission, the book, or are you lost in the woods?'
'i'm at home in the woods orloff, if you want to find the book i suggest you hire a private detective. i'm not a detective, i just read a lot.'
'i know who you are captain mission, i know you can find the book.'
'look orloff, there are translations out there, on the net, you can buy facsimiles, various different translations, i don't think you need me at all. this is about something else isn't it?'
'ha ha, i don't need you at all, that is correct you need me though to lead you out from the woods.'
while this ridiculous conversation chased its own tail i received two e mails, one from paulo, one from the hydra ghost virus, it had found out a little about orloff, in fact it was now returning to my laptop with all some considerable information. i watched files enter the download folder.
'orloff, call me back in an hour and i may have something for you.'
i hung up, chucked the phone on the sofa opposite and opened paulo's e mail.
his contact in rome had found the first english translation of 'love in a dream' by robert darlington, but mr. darlington had given up halfway through, driven mad by the task itself, the manuscript was in an antique book collectors for more cash than i could possibly raise, but at least i had found the book, that was something. 
the next attempt at transalation is the one which most people know off, by joscelyn godwin, paulo's contact also said the original author of the book had hidden his name within the book, although it was now well known to be franchesco colonna but there were other schools of thought that said it may be leon battista alberti, perhaps one designed the woodcuts the other the words.
i opened the other e mail and there was a series of photographs of the man who called himself orloff, immediately recognisable. as being identical to the woodcuts. 172 photographs. 172 woodcuts.
i sat back and looked at the images they were all perfect reproductions, exactly the same depictions as their woodcut originals, more detailed and intricate than the woodcuts but originals none-the-less. 
i rearranged their order and jumped into photoshop, then i put each one side by side with the original.
i resized them and overlapped them, bleeding both into one another, they were perfect, which left the question. 
who was orloff?


  

eventually poliphilo escapes this place but we cannot be certain if he does this by actually falling asleep again, within the dream. it certainly alludes to this.

in this dream he is escorted by nymphs, they take him to their queen where he declares his love for polia, he is then led to a number of gates which he must chose from, he chooses the third and as he enters the nymphs reunite him with polia, they are both taken to a temple for their engagement and as they progress they witness several celebrations and processions to honour their union. on a boat escorted by cupid they sail to the island of cythera ( a greek island).

it appears that something strange happens here, the narrator of the story has been popiphilo but suddenly events are described from polias point of view although when eventually popiphilo resumes narration popila rejects popihilo, whereby cupid acts and commands her to kiss him awake from his deathlike swoon, at which he returns to life, venus blesses their love and the lovers are united at last but just when poliphilo is about to take polia in his arms she vanishes and popihilo wakes up.

i switch of my computer, make a few calls to people i know, leave messages, i think i get the idea behind the book, although there are many, the main one is clear to me. one has to appreciate the way the church from rome worked and what it was really all about which is warfare and suppression. you have to know not just how to read, but how to read between lines and through time. that's the thing with esoteric books, they always have some fundamental truth hidden away that at the time of printing would have been considered punishable by a painful death. 

later from my contacts i uncover that the book is indeed a complex mix of several ancient languages, impossible to really read coherently in traditional ways, even the title is considered unpronounceable.

the illustrations are difficult to understand, they are intersecting to the text, a bit like 'house of leaves' which happens to be one of my favourite books. it's one big hyperlinked idea, i begin to see it.

here's another strange thing, the woodcuts all seem to have a cinematic air about them, depicting movement, following the laws of cinematography one could say that the principles have been used in this book which is why the book actually has a double page spread of illustrations.

the names of the characters, the male (lover of many things) the female (many things) is the first anchor point i use. it's obvious that we have polarities here, for in the text poliphilo is in love with many things, especially the architecture he sees, but this can be embodied in popila, the buildings are objects of desire or metaphors, he even describes marble walls as 'virginal' and 'flawless' he feels incredible joys' and 'unbound delight' and the buildings fill him with 'carnal pleasure' and 'lust' he loves them because they are agreeable to touch, they are magnificent and fragrant. he even assaults a sleeping nymph so aroused by the atmosphere of the buildings.

there's parts of the book where he assigns the buildings a polymorphic attribute and at one point even makes love to the building.

my contacts, although a small group span the globe, it's morning in europe so i place a phone call and leave a message. half an hour later i hear back from paulo, a research student in italy, he is an engineer theorist specialising in wind power and he makes note of the influence of the descriptions and woodcuts that depict wind powered objects, these have been considered the first of their kind documented, paulo also has a contact in rome, he puts the feelers out for more information, he thinks he may know some one who can help track down a translation.

book detectives are a strange breed, they are obsessive but also somewhat absent minded, they share some similar qualities, to normal investigators, except the world they operate in is academic. i never thought of myself as a specialist but i guess i am knowledgeable in esoteric literature and i have quite an effective methodology of location and interpretation, and this is probably what mr. orloff was alluding to.

i have asked paulo to investigate orloff as well, considering it's wise to know equally about my employer, as the book.

i check the time, it's now nearly midnight, i figure tomorrow morning i'll use my technological wizardry to locate the book, but i'll give paulo a bit of a chance first as the hydra code takes the search up a notch, besides, let's see if orloff pays up as promised.

   

i should have seen it coming, rain drenched sunday morning i'm having a coffee with dr. crack, he's feeling somewhat nihilistic today so i'm glad of a distraction. two men approach me, they are dressed in non-descript grey suits, very average looking straight men, they ask me if i am captain mission. this is tricky because i don't want to draw attention to myself after the weeks events, so i just nod, waiting for the punchline, i seriously think these are cupcake hench-monkeys but they appear intelligent and far to conservative looking to be her kind of thug, i offer them a seat but they refuse and offer me a card instead, with a single phone number embossed in a fine elegant font. 'you can call at anytime mr. mission.' so i put the card away and return to sunday newspaper blues and think nothing of it.
later, around sunset i pull out the card and call the number, 'hey this is captain mission, i was given your card this morning.'
'captain mission, just hang on a moment' a female voice says, it has a hint of a french accent, mysterious i think.
i hang on.
'captain mission, good evening sir, i am right, it is evening there in sydney correct?'
'yes it's evening and you are...?'
'my name is orloff and i would like to request your help.'
'yeah right, why should i believe you need my help.'
'because i will pay you.'
'okay...'
'i have it on good authority that you are quite well read, that you have a good knowledge of books and a certain knack for finding them.'
'yeah i can track books, so?'
'i'm looking for a certain book mr. mission. it's known as 'poliphili's strife ...' 
'love in a dream' i finish for him, 'yeah i know of it.'
'good good, your reputation is accurate.'
'i don't have a reputation mr. orloff, and if i do it's a fiction, don't believe everything you hear or read.'
'i have it on very good authority that you are gifted at finding arcane literature.'
'you want to pay me to find you a copy of poliphili?'
'not just a copy, an english translation for which i will reward you handsomely. as a gesture of good faith i will have my aides drop off some money as a retainer tomorrow, plus you will require some money for expenses. this first part is yours to keep if you find the book or not, if you do i will double the amount. we will speak again tomorrow.'
the phone went dead, i put it down and looked online at what i could find out about the book. it was anonymously written but attributed to many italian monks, i had heard of it through the film, 'the ninth gate' in which johnny depp is asked to search for it. interesting and a little spooky i think as i recall the ending. in the film the book is a grimorie written by the devil and as the johnny depp character attempts to track it down he begins a strange journey, similar to poliphilli who is lost in a strange dream. johnny depp is competing with other book trackers whom have malevolent intentions, they believe the book will assist them summon the devil. 
i knew that the book was written in a number of languages, some invented by the author and the engravings were considered exquisite, depicting poli's search for his true love polia, what i didn't know was the translation of the protagonists names and i had no idea that carl jung got his theory of archetypes from it. i researched the plot despite being familiar with the main story, what i did uncover was the embedded dream, the dream within a dream.
the narrative starts with poliphilo (friend of many things) distraught after being shunned by his beloved polia (many things) somehow he is transported to a mysterious forest, which may or may not be an allegory, where he becomes lost. here he comes across mysterious and fabulous beasts, satyrs, naiads, dragons, wild wolves, who all advice and give council like gods and goddesses to mere mortals, through esher like buildings and impossible architecture filled with exotic designs created by a talented engineer or artist.


for example:



in the centre of this admirable area, i saw an extraordinary fountain spurting clear water through narrow pipes as high as the closing hedge. the water fell back into a wide shell of fine amethyst, three paces in diameter and three inches thick, diminishing to one inch at the rim of this excellent tub. all around it aquatic monsters could be seen, perfectly carved in bas-relief. the ancient craftsmen never managed to achieve such splendid work in hard stone as this admirable and complex ornamentation, nor could pausanias boast of such when he dedicated his bronze crater at hippari. this one was expertly fixed on a splendid pillar of jasper, with many veins beautifully intersecting one another, inlaid with diaphanous chalcedony the colour of turbid sea-water. it was a noble artefact, made from two throated vases placed one on the other and separate by a narrow knot. it stood erect, fastened to the centre of a circular plinth of greenish serpentine. this plinth was raised five inches above the flat pavement, as was the surrounding rim of porphyry that was curiously decorated with fine wave-mouldings. beneath the basin and around the pillar, four golden harpies with rapacious taloned feet rested on the surface of the serpentine plinth. their back parts were against the pillar, one directly opposite another, and their unfolded wings rose toward the violet lip of the basin. they had the faces of virgins, and hair that flowed down their necks on to their shoulders, while their heads did not reach the underside of the basin. their serpentine tails were curled up and turned at the end into antique rinceaux, joining the lower vase of the pillar not ungracefully, but with amicable union and interlacing. inside the amethyst basin, at its navel and directly above the supporting pillar, there rose a well-proportioned vase like a long inverted calyx, reaching as far above the surrounding rim as the basin was deep. upon this was raised an artistic base that supported the three nude graces, made from fine gold, equal in height and connected to one another. from the nipples of their breasts there flowed thin streams of water looking like rods of refined silver, polished and striated, as if it had been distilled fom the white pumice of taracona. each one held in her right hand a cornucopia that reached a little above her head, then the mouths of all three horns met and made a single round, open form. an abundance of various fruits and leaves overflowed the opening or rim of the intertwined horns.


six little spouts protruded among the fruits and foliage, from which the water flowed through minute openings. the clever metal-sculptor had avoided having the elbows collide by having the statues make a gesture of modesty, hiding with their left hands those parts that should be covered. the open basin’s circumference reached a foot beyond that of the serpentine plinth below it, and well spaced around its rim were six scaly dragons of bright gold, resting on their reptilian feet with their heads high. they were remarkably made so that the water coming from the breasts fell directly into their hollow and open heads. their wings were spread, their mouths wide open. the water was let out, or rather vomited through a channel so that it fell between the round serpentine plinth and the circle of porphyry, which rose an equal distance above the floor of the courtyard or open pavement, as already described. there was a channel between the serpentine plinth and this porphyry circle, one-and-a-half feet wide and two feet deep. the porphyry circle was three feet wide on its flat surface, with fine wave-mouldings toward the pavement.


the rest of the dragons snaked across the shallow basin, then all their tails came together and were transformed into antique rinceaux, making at the appropriate height a satisfying juncture with the support or footing of the three figures, and without deforming the hollow of the precious basin. the latter took on a wonderful colouring from the combination of the green orange-tree hedge, the translucent material and the pure water, so that it resembled a rainbow among the clouds inside the noble, proud and elegant vessel. there were also lion-heads with manes that stood out from the convex part of the basin, equally spaced between each pair of dragons on this splendid water-tub. with perfect aim, the lions spewed out through tubes in their mouths the water that fell from the six little pipes of the beautiful cornucopia. this water was driven with low pressure that made it fall between the dragons into the broad and resonant basin, so that its long fall made a lovely tinkling in the open vessel. it was rare work, this proud fountain erected with keen ingenuity, with its perfect harpies and the rare dignity of the support for the three brilliant golden figures, all executed with the highest artistry and finish. i could never make a brief and lucid exposition of it, much less describe it all. it was no work of merely human skill, but i can freely testify, calling the gods to witness, that never in our age has there been a more graceful or admirable sculpture, nor even one to equal it. i was stupefied as i considered how hard and resistant the stones were that supported the great basin, namely the pillar which was made from two throated vases, one above the other, with as much ease and facility as though the material in question had been soft wax.

the light ages are here, a special child is born, welcome to the world ryder, welcome to your life. 
my very good friend evan is a father and if he's half as good as he is, being my friend, he will be a wonderful dad. 
congratulations evan and leanne and ryder, i love you guys and you will enjoy the ride, it's amazing.

sometimes, on wet days when i am alone, i think of her, miss cupcake in her strange circumstance, american disposition, hong kong mind. i think about her need to keep it going, reaching out through hate with her flying monkey friends, manipulating them to get to me, 'why' i think would some one want to do that if not because they love you. it's a warped distorted love admittedly but i think i understand, she needs help, but can't ask for it, she wants me, but can't bring herself to admit it. vengeance is a way of asking for punishment i guess, you want to punish me. 
it's pointless cupcake, you can't punish me without punishing yourself, i can't help the alcoholic streak that lives inside you now, that's grown beyond those that love you. but you can do it, you can because you fight much better than you love and thats what needed now.
i'm still somewhat shaken buy the threatening phone calls, they were quite nasty and vindictive, there was not much intelligence behind them, just an ugly energy,  weak one following orders i guess but those kind of threats have repercussions and consequences so i ask you pull back the reigns on your monkey's, keep them on a short leash, they do your bidding in a way i could never do, so be kind to them but keep them away from me now, damage is done and i fear it will effect you much more than me.
onwards i go, heading somewhere else, life is somewhere else, it's moving behind the veils, we are shadows on a cave wall after all, flickering in candle light, pouring through time, i'd travel along the waves that come my way, some are big and dangerous, others small fast forceful ones, it's not the size that matters girls, it's the ride. it's all how you ride and the world is filled with diversity in its wave motion, some knock you down and others lift you up, turbulence is just part off a wave as well, and some one else's drama is one i really don't choose to catch, so grab a lungful of air and dive under it while it passes, surface for another, a better one with grace and beauty, one that takes you somewhere else, somewhere closer to love.

my first hit of blowback knocked me out, i phased out and saw the room, my room, cosy comfortable, dimly lit, bohemian type lounge with the soft flicker of candles and the soft cushions strewn across the floor and the wonderful sarongs with their vibrant colours and patterns, i saw them all and then they just slipped away.
i was back in 1977, london, i was in my skinny skool kid body, awkward and absurd, driven by hormones i was obsessed with kim power, she was dressed in her tight black jeans and a david bowie tee-shirt, she was smoking a french cigarette and had a hot pink electric guitar on which she was showing me how to make a c minor. still my fave chord, there's always romance in c minor. she had beautiful lips, my hormones were screaming for me to kiss her mouth but i was so nervous i could only try to be cool and fail.
kim power was the coolest girl on planet earth and it was our first date. we were sitting in her room, she was playing me some bowie bootlegs, 'live at reading polytechnic 1972, the one where he plays waiting for the man as an encore, i'd never heard it before, she had a pretty unique record collection, turning me on to the new york thing, she played me some patti smith and skinned up a big spliff, her mum came in and gave us a parental look, and some tea in big mugs with some biscuits. i felt embarrassed and didn't know where to look. 
later kim took me out to see, wait for it, 'adam and the ants and the au pairs' at some small little club in london. it was before they were a pop band, they were actually quite good, so much energy in a room you could literally feel the electricity, that was it, i was never the same. london went from being a city of grim depressing rain to an explosion of possibilities, everyone started bands, everyone tried to be different, everyone kicked out the jams and did it themselves. i discovered my inner punk although i often got beaten up for it, teddy boys and rockers used to ambush me as i walked home from skool, even the teachers hated me and kim power, but we had one another and that was the thing, although she was never my girlfriend in a romantic sense we were close enough to share one another and we were joined at the hip, so when people picked a fight with me, she would always have my back, and she was a good fighter, better than me. she set the template for me, what i wanted from a girlfriend was someone that would fight in your corner when the chips are down, it's a rare thing but wow, it's amazing to have that kind of support, the only girl who i did get that from was agent stoned who was pretty good at defending me when i needed it, most girls kinda have this intrinsic behaviour where they secretly align themselves with the strongest, the bully. what is all that about? evolutionary psychology i guess, there's something very dangerous about the way a girl can rejoice in humiliation. i saw it a lot and it's a warning sign, i see it in wives with their husbands, although one could argue it works the other way around. i don't find it attractive at all, in fact it's the worst quality in girls, that kind of joy they feel when the man they apparently like or love is humiliated in front of them, kim power would defend me  under any circumstances, she would never let anyone try to intimidate or threaten me. that was very cool, respect.
anyway, she went on to become some sort of rock and roll wife to some american pop star, i went on to berlin but i'll aways remember her in her skool uniform with a blue mohawk and safety pin ear ring. 
sometimes under blowback i drift back to that time, listening to albums, digging the scene, dressing up in our carnaby street clothes and going out into damp london streets looking for some action, rock and roll dreams, screaming 'let me outta here' the blank generation, we were out of our minds on the future and now i'm smoking blowback, spending time in the past with kim power.
  

there's no doubt i have upset a friend of mine, i feel awful about it, i don't know, christ, i am really sorry i never ever meant for that to happen, i don't really know how i did it, well i probably wrote something i should not have, that does happen occasionally, i get carried away and just write whatever drivel comes out, never really thinking to much about what it is i am writing, i don't like the thinking bit, i'm not that accomplished at it after my head injury, never was before either. i'm more a feel person. people often criticise me as i have no real logic, can't grasp lot's of things that people take for granted. when i was a kid i was picked upon because teachers could not understand why i didn't learn their subjects, in those days dyslexia was not really known about, i'm not sure if teachers hated me because they saw the potential and became frustrated or they just hated me, skool was brutal in those days.
after the brain injury my faculty for memory changed, i instantly forget things or i can't really grasp at things in a linear sequence. these are not excuses, i have no excuse but i know my brain is hardwired in a different way than others.  


how do you repair a friendship like that, i don't know, i don't have the skills, i'm barely skilled at making friends let alone keeping them but it's never my intention to distress my friends, i love them, they are very few and all quite brilliant individuals but they know me and what i am like, totally hopeless at the social skills needed to be a proper frend. i'm like an invisible imaginary friend, you have to do most of the work and just accept me with all my flaws and strange ways, i'm so sorry for that and hope my good points outweigh the bad. i don't know what my good points are really, i guess i'm loyal and if push comes to shove i've got your back covered, well i can't sell myself to ya...
i'm just me, captain mission, and i love you so don't feel bad about things old chap, try and forgive me, for i am an idiot savant with - out the savant part.
i'm glad all is well with you, i'm really happy that you seem to have found some happiness in life, it's really all i ever wanted for you, honestly, i loved the stuff you do and it enriched my life so much it killed me to know you were suffering. it really did, but that's just under the bridge now, that kind of bridge makes me think about building invisible bridges, the ones that connect people from distance, like i felt connected when i first heard those words you write, i didn't feel alone or alienated. i felt like there was some one else in the world who seemed to feel similar. i don't know, i got close like icarus did to his sun, i didn't set out for the sun, i think i would fly to venus given a choice, my wings just caught fire and i crashed but i can still float around sometimes, i just play those songs and gravity can't hold me. what's that all about. i know we are different, i know there's stuff about me that repulses the warlock hat and the banana skin boots, ha, i don't know man, i'm just surfing the waves as they come along, i gotta natural curiosity about all things except violence and drinking, the dumb drugs. i think i'm mostly harmless but i understand the mechanics of repulsion, attraction, repulsion, attraction.
i understand, i'm an anomaly, but if i could i would build that bridge right back to you somehow.  

DAVID BOWIE - BIG BROTHER LIVE

'transcendent' paints an interesting future, climate change has ravaged the planet yet we are doing okay, smart technological solutions are applied, life still finds a way, the geography has dramatically changed, countries are no longer subjected to traditional climates or landscapes. i'm enjoying descriptions of 'the reef' which is outside seville, a place where all the cars were dumped. baxter writes of a huge wall of cars, almost a graveyard.
he describes how the whole city became a dump, and as the people moved out refugees from north africa moved in, inhabiting the whole area, making use of the stuff that had been left and a whole new society evolves. there's new insects species evolving, they live on rust, eat it and turn it into something organic, there's a certain ingenuity humans bring to these extreme conditions and along with the way evolution works, it's extremely fast under adverse conditions, a couple of generations.
the communities that live in these places all exhibit slight 'hive' behaviours, they swarm, communicate by mimicry and hardly use language via speech. baxter's idea of hive society started in 'coalescent' around the fall of rome to AD2005 but he's taken the idea further and in transcendent which is set in two time periods, AD2047 and AD500000 we see at the end of time hives operating in incredibly imaginative yet in human ways, the evolution is incredible, the furthest reaches of space colonised by these hive societies where function is pre determined, where a handful of mothers act like queens and give birth to hundreds of children, where the hive is connected to all other hives, even off world, all serving the ultimate in human evolution, the transcendence, a human that has evolved to it's endpoint and now reflects on the past, the humanity that came before it, the ones that suffered and knew pain. and the transcendents would like to heal that wound, for how can they be free when they are aware of the suffering it took to reach the point they are at. 
i have to say i was reluctant to start baxter, he's to old school for me, classic science fiction, the stuff i read when i was 15, asimov, heinlien, ee doc smith, from the golden age, but this series has a certain grunge that i like, yet it is filled with ideas, baxter is an ideas man, i love that he's got the solutions, they are really elegant, i like his characters although people criticise them for being to dry, and they don't like the dialogue, they don't like the density. i like the story and i'm enjoying where it takes me, it's a series of possibilities where the future travels to the past and all humanity can be potentially healed.

we were like aztec royal's both adored and feared, with our bronze skin and purple feather collars, adorned in the sun gods blaze tattooed across our chests, at midnight, at sunrise, at sunset, the cosmic clocks, the great one appeased by our dancing.
they sacrificed many, many people delivered fresh blood, many bodies fell from the pyramid of our divine ones, the gods were pleased with us, bestowing favourable crops, favourable fortune, favourable children, we were rich in many ways. 
the beautiful jungle with it's treasures opened up for us, it shared its bounty, we drank its medicine, rich and quenching, we saw many things in visions and dreams. 
i became the jaguar god, i mated with the goddess, i danced the circle of fire, i ate vine flesh and drank it's blood. 
we gave it back, we returned everything to where it came. our cities are dust, our people dust, our memories dust, once we were mighty, now we are only dust.
this is the way of all, ashes or dust, some are born to shine, some are born to diminish, but all of us return.
when i died my first death i was unafraid, after the second i began to fear, and later as i incarnated i feared death so much it consumed my life, now the process is reversed and i don't fear, there is only the moment of becoming, what is born. 
give birth to something, nurture it until it is ready and let it go.

at a girlfriends house, my phone rings, it's a blocked number but i answer it anyway, immediately i know what's going down, it's some buffoon pretending he knows me, a miserable fake accent and some incomprehensible babble i can't understand what he's on about but i know who's behind it, at least in the shadows, it smells like 'her' all over. 
i hang up only to have the buffoon ring again, it's mindless drivel, on the verge of threatening. i know it's going to come, i know it's on the cusp because there's a certain predictability in these monkeys primal behaviour.
when it comes, it's the, 'i know where you live, i'm going to come around and get you' type. boring unoriginal and lacking in all creative qualities, this clown is under the thumb, pussy whipped flying monkey, following orders, 'go get captain mission, hurt him.'
yeah, that type of baboon.
anyway's there's a few more messages and threats and an impersonation of a drug squad officer, as if they would waste their time on me. as if they don't know what's going down either.  
i don't know, you lot are fucked up on money and time and alcohol, i've absolutely nothing in common with you people, nothing, all you do is try to intimidate and frighten me and it never works but i just feel sorry for you, wasting your time, wasting your lives on me when you could be playing mums and dads, i rather be a parent,than go around terrorising my ex but maybe that's just me, overburdened with a sense of responsibility.
let it go cupcake and baboon boy.

my new political meme is called 'reasonableness' and it will be the main policy of my party, 'the reasonable' party, we will look at all issues in terms of what's reasonable, not your descartes reduction and reasoning logic, just your, what's fair approach. we will have no other policy, no laws, no doctrines, if you behave and act reasonably you will be fine. if you practise some kind of destructive anti humanity type thing then i'll have to kill you, well punish you with some sort of community service, there's no point in putting you in jail as jail is unreasonable, actually punishment is unreasonable really, mmm maybe i'll just request you bake me a lumberjack cake as a penalty for being unreasonable. can't really get more reasonable than that can you?

geo-political hacker cells infiltrate a secret military experiment, its code name is 'disinfo' and it's designed to saturate the internet with hate. it's an old cia trick, perfected during the cold war, used in almost all operations where conflict ensures a controllable and desirable outcome for the agency. the cia stole the idea from the english, who in turn borrowed it from the romans, 'divide et imperera.'
the evolution of warfare begins with fists and ends with the mind, here the weapon is information but the battlefield is the brain. a combination of military, political and economic factors come into play, create an economy where an enemy is desirable, stimulate the political arena towards the extremes.
i spoke to 'heckle and hide' (via deep dreaming) a husband and wife team from southern england, i've known them for many years, they were part of the spearhead who had infiltrated the system, they said, 'most governments are in on the act, although by degrees, some more than others. the push towards a global order and the deconstruction of sovereign nations has already begun, it's being stage managed by controlling information and fear.'
of course the 'club of rome' came up with the idea, a bunch of powerful socialists, neo fascists and ultra capitalists, it's the backbone of the modern un, which is in my humble opinion evil incarnate, not in a supernatural way but in that human control and power way where a massive unelected government body has already mapped out the future of the world, (see agenda 21 and the codex alimentarius) and it's being implemented through a grass roots local council way more effectively than from the top down.
this is because the battle lines are drawn, some people are on to it, although a lot are very confused about who the enemy actually is. 
the enemy is simple, it's ourselves. every individual needs to stop the hate and cultivate love, just on a local level, love your tribes, your neighbour, the enemy but most important love yourself.
the weapon they use is hate, the one we need to use is love, else we are all lost.
ah, i hear you say what happens when they crash a plane into our tower, what happens when the banks make super profits, what happens when the military kick down the door and start shooting?
well as a friend of mine said, 'turn the other cheek.'
for the way of those who seek power, control and domination through hate will end in their demise.
this is histories lesson, it is the way the universe works. we all seek justice and justice comes through the karmic wheels of a process inconceivable to man.
if you think i am mistaken, then you are enslaved already. do not hate, don't fall under the divide and conquer strategy. do the opposite, love, (yoga teaches, union so unite, there is no enemy other than the self) and set free. liberate the self from hate.
these are the weapons that cannot be defeated they transcend time. 
i myself suffer from my pet-hates, i myself work hard everyday to practice a love that diminishes everytime i see a newspaper, but at the end of the day it is a battle in a war, no one said it would be easy.
the enemy is the self. the adversary is our own making, what exists inside us manifests outside. 
don't fall under the spell of hate, for then they have won. they have divided and conquered your soul.






  
  

half way through transcendent the third part of the stephan baxter trilogy that is actually a quartet, i have not read the second part as i am reading the series in timeline sequence not chronologically as published. 
baxter says you can read any of his books in any order, even as stand alone novels but i think this way appeals to me following the whole sequence from the big bang to the end, the fact that half way through the time line humans and their enemy the xeelee discover time travel and use it in their conflicts make the whole idea of reading them chronologically somewhat redundant as which is why i am following the timeline. 
i'll post a full review later but it's fantastic so far, i'm warming to baxter and his style, he encompasses a wide screen, ages and generations, the scale of things he describes is very similar to aliester reynolds and i think this may have something to do with the fact they are both scientists.

my attorney rings me late in the evening from some where exotic, he's overseas, drinking and fucking as is his want, obviously when your as wealthy as he is you have very few limits when it comes to the global play ground arena, i don't resent him this, i'd do exactly the same, at least he is creative with his wealth and he shares it with his friends, a very generous man larger than life, but he is my friend for many reasons, he tells me to pack a bag for a long road trip, four days driving north, trapped in a car with a man who is pursuing a death wish through each and every sin known, a man who also seeks undoubtably seeks redemption, it will be a holy journey, a modern pilgrimage and they will eventually film it, johnny depp can play me although choosing an actor suitable for my legal man will be difficult, for what is needed when it comes to this particular part is a type of gravity only found in the classical actors from a forgotten era, perhaps anthony hopkins could do it although he would need to spend a few months researching the limits of expensive and exotic appetites, while holding down a very important job working on big cases and such, dealing with court room dramas and the like. yes anthony hopkins could pull it off. 
often i assist trawling through the evidence, reports and camera footage, piecing together motives and cause, my autistic sherlock holmes like mind comes in handy, it thinks outside the box and my lawyer respects it's perspective on the more tricky cases. 

but four days driving north, plus seven days in the remotest parts of australia known to man, in the rainforest and swamps, 'we will have to carry guns' he says, 'the crocs come up to the front door at night time.' 

i tell him i'll think about it.

he says, 'prepare a list of conversation topics, one for each hour of the journey.' 
i consider this. later i even think about the list and make an attempt to start it but i stop at four, listed here for you:

1. is it the journey or the destination?
2. is there a true self?
3. what makes something beautiful and another ugly?
4. what is the most important film ever made?


i have other things to do and lists to write, pretty soon i am writing a list for the lists i have yet to do. i shred it when i see the futility.

we have travelled together for a long time, through life, he is an old friend, we met in strange circumstances that cannot be revealed here, certainly not now, although i can say it involved a cult, lots of papaya and various energy fields. yes we have a certain secret history that connects us but also we share a similar cosmic perspective on life, his more hedonistic than mine although i have been known to indulge myself in my favourite sin, i generally stay well away from the others.

out of all the people i know, this particular man has been a very very good friend, he has helped me when i needed it but also included me in experiences i would have never even known about. 

for example one evening he rings me, 'mission, put a suit on and meet me outside.'

i see his familiar car outside, from the outside it's a stately prestige type, once inside it's a teenagers bedroom, paperwork everywhere, bits of laundry, obscure cds that range from some strange south london dub to the rolling stones, dylan and iggy, some feathers and stones, crystals and incense adorn the instrument panel. 
we drive off, into the city, china town. we weave into a small narrow street and then find ourselves in an underground car park, it's unfamiliar subterranean archeology, a small doorway and a long flight of steps, i'm feeling slightly apprehensive but i know better to ask. i follow him up there, it takes twenty minites to get to another level, a long corridor with a swinging lightbulb that occasionally flickers and then we enter another doorway and i hear the sound of people from behind another doorway. we enter and i am in a chinese returant. it's packed with chinese people. loads of them, all gabbling away in their native tongue, all chowing down on dim sims and pork dumplings, the sound of chopsticks, the deep rich reds of lantern lamps, a little man escorts us through the crowded tables, it does smell pretty good in here, like black bean sauce, some kind of asian condiment. 

i don't know where we are going, he sticks out like a sore thumb as do i, but no one takes any notice. a woman comes to greet us, she is very beautiful in her elegance and i find myself admiring her in a romantic way, she wears a traditional asian dress but she is very western, talking perfect english and smiling in a way that puts me at ease. first she welcomes him and then me, bowing low, i attempt to bow to but i'm lacking the same grace that she possesses.

we wander through a kitchen, it's huge and hot, steam everywhere, chinese people, all men nod acknowledgement to the woman as she wanders past them, the smell in here is not so nice, it's overwhelming as a million different flavours plume into one heavy thick viscous fog, i imagine i will have to get my suit dry cleaned to get rid of the stench. however the walk itself is quite amazing, watching these people prepare food, chopping faster than my eye can actually see, hands blurring, my brain fills in the gaps, some of the biggest pots and pans i have ever seen, the hits of ginger that sears out as it's thrown into burning oil someone pours xo sauce over a big steaming dish. we stop before a red door. 

the woman looks at me, she checks the time, it's 2330.

she bows again and looks me in the eye unflinchingly as i stare back. 

my attorney holds the door open for me, he says, 'this will be an interesting experience for us mission.'
the three of us go downstairs, we are sat at a small table for two, the woman disappears. 
it's a very dark room, another restaurant but it's got a stage, or raised area in the centre, it revolves around 360 degrees. i immediately think a band will be playing here, maybe 'the church' a secret gig, but it's not for a band, it's for a single man, a small japanese man in a chefs suit is introduced by the woman. the woman speaks what i think is japanese, as i look around i see the dimly lit faces of japanese people not a chinaman in sight.
my attorney translates, 'she is saying, here is aryosho, master of sun fish cuisine, we have flown him here to be with you tonight for the preparation is an exact art, any deviance will result in instant death. we will bid first, then aryosho will prepare the three stages, first stage, moon fish bidding will start at $10000.'
aryosho bows low and bows again at the woman, then the bidding starts. 
'what the fuck is this,' i whisper, 'some sort of fish auction.'
'watch, but careful not to move to much, i don't want to bid on this part of the fish, we have a bigger fish to fry.'
from what i can make out this fish is such a rare delicacy that japanese value it enough to pay ridiculous prices. the bidding goes on until there are two individuals locked in and eventually one person wins the auction. the chef asks him to stand up, he must walk up on the stage with his entourage who share his table. four businessmen walk up to loud applause.
a waitress comes and takes our drink order, me water, my attorney gets a bottle of white wine.
the chef sizes them up, he walks around them, looks at them from all angles. then he takes two knives and starts slicing the fish, i attempt to look at the fish but i'm gestured to stay seated. the businessmen are given a plate each with what seems to be a sliver of fish and they return to their table. 
then the next bid begins, and i see that we are bidding on the same fish but a different organ, this part is called sun fish. bidding is high, it started at $500000 and has already reached a hundred thousand.
there's an atmosphere of great seriousness now, this is not just recreational, it's quite maniacal. the faces are single minded determination. i've never seen any fuss like this before made over a fish but this is no ordinary fish.
'the organs are very hallucinogenic, they are toxic and if the wrong mass is eaten results in a very quick and painful death, but aryosho will cut the exact amount and later the winners will eat the fish and enter their ecstatic state's. there are three types, moon, which is akin to walking on the moon, people report feeling very light and floaty, they talk about things becoming very spongey to touch and visualise strange desolate landscapes with craters. sun fish which they are bidding on now is meant to be wonderful, almost as though you become a sun, drenching everything in a bright light but the star part, well that's what we want mission.'
i don't know how much they paid for the sun part but a single man went up, he again was surveyed by the chef and then given a piece of the fish.
the room burst into a raucous applause again, this time it was like a sports stadium.
'why are the chinese upstairs and the japanese down here?'
my attorney had already finished half the wine, he was perking up, getting into the spirit of the whole thing, 'the chinese don't like japanese, there's a lot of bad blood between the two races but the japanese come here once every few years to this same place for this occasion, the chinese mafia sub let the room out, keep it safe, it's lucrative for both sides but there's not much interaction, business is business, actually i help with the contracts, which is how we managed to get here.'
'what you're in the yakuza now?'
'nothing like that, i just make sure the legal stuff is okay, contracts need to be written by someone.'
nothing surprises me about this man, in all the years i've known him he can still surprise me, however like all masterminds he has a code, i like that in people, although it's not quite my code, it's his code and that is what he is true to.
'i did aryosho's contract as well, he gets a million dollars for each gig plus expenses, he will look after us when it comes to slicing up the fish.'
'a million bucks, jesus that's some fishmonger.'
'this is a fine art, a wrong cut can kill. there's not many people who are trained in this stuff, it's passed on from generations within aryosho's family.'
'so are we going to eat fish organs?'
'raw.'
'and it's hallucinogenic?'
'very, it's known as ichycoallyeinotoxism, hallucinogenic fish poisoning in other words. there's a species of bream that can induce visions, it was huge in roman times, those guys loved it so much it became a craze at dinner parties. even in parts off arabia they call it 'fish that makes dreams' there's reports that the dreams can last days but i don't think aryosho will cut us that type of dose.'
'so we are going to be tripping on fish guts.'
'mission, you have no finesse sometimes.'
'it's my working class background, we never had fish on the council estate.'
'hold tight, here we go.'
i looked up and could see aryosho was now bowing to rapturous applause, apparently someone had just spent 2 million dollars on the final part of the fish, known as the star fish. the man jumped up on the podium and waved at everyone as though he had won a race. the small crowd were going nuts.
there was a subdued moment when most people began to leave, but aryosho came to our table and asked me to stand up, he walked around me as he had done to each winner, he looked at my hands and teeth and eyes, then he bowed low, i noticed we were left in an almost empty room with the winners of the bidding and aryosho who brought them their fish pieces and the young woman who went from table to table checking if everyone was ready.
aryosho returned to us with two plates and offered them to us. my attorney spoke some japanese and aryosho offered his hand to me, i shook it.
'enjoy star fish, piece good, many magic things in star fish.'
i looked at the black looking gizzard that lay stretched across my plate, it smelt horrible and looked worse.
here i am in some sort of raw lsd fish eating cult being given a raw star fish gut by the jamie oliver of the ichycoallyeinotoxism world with my gracious and very weird friend. i am not in a position to refuse.
'should i swallow it or chew it?'
'place it under your tongue and it will dissolve, it's very delicate, the rest you spit out.'
we exchange a look, it's a look we have exchanged many times, its a look that we have both spent our lifetimes developing, it's the acknowledgement of fear look, it's the the acceptance of death look, it's the look two blokes share on a journey into the unknown. how do you describe that look, i'm not sure, it's just a look i guess.
i lift my head up high and open my mouth, picking up the strange slimy object i place it in my mouth, it's immediately awful, alien gunk, bad voodoo shit that makes my stomach churn and i fight the instinct to get it out from my mouth as i feel the liquid slide down into my throat, thick molasses texture, bitter and sour, not like fish, not like anything except bad ass raw fish gut. limits have been reached, i feel myself beginning to feel queasy, i eject the contents of my mouth onto the plate, and stare down at the skin that's left, it looks like an over used condom. 
i try to talk but the words are not there, my mouth feels like its been stretched open. 
i glance around, the other people are there all in their own experience but i can't quite see them, even the huge frame of my attorney is almost not quite there but i hear his voice, slow and slurred, it's saying something but it's warped and discordant and it's gone into the ether. 
i begin to feel very warm, my head feels like it's expanding rapidly. the rooms flickers in red strobe for a while, it's not unpleasant, and there's a nice sensation as my whole body begins to dissolve which is quickly overtaken by the not so pleasant feeling of vertigo, in fact it's very sudden and feels like i am travelling upwards very fast, i control my breathing, deeps intense breaths as the shapes seem to flash before me, fish mouths, contorted and aggressive, the array of neon coloured lights shimmer, i have no relation to my body now, where am i?
slow time, decay, i'm a bubble, part of a large mass of foam, each bubble is a universe, each had different laws, my mind is melting, bending, stretching out, it's like an elastic band, reaching it's limits, all references come to an elasticated end. im in wonderland, a long way from kansas, neverwhere, a lost boy, floating out in the watery foam, i touch the surface of the skin, my hands feel like they are pushing through a dark mirror, stepping into another world, a world of aquatic pastels and coral shapes that form like purple fractals and i feel quite scared, and alone, and i wonder if i will find my way home. i am drowning now, falling into deep waters, floating, maybe i am rising, there's some movement around me, a blast of heat, i'm sweating, i think or wet, drenched in water, i'm uncertain if i need to drink some water, i have a body somewhere, i should look after it, the thought flickers across my mind but out, it goes. these colours are lovely, underwater moonlight, gets you when your down, i see a shape flickering, something fleeting, a tremor of recognition, it's leaping out of a book or submerged memory, but i can't quite see through the murky swirl.
big flash, i'm suspended in the void, akin to an isolation tank, there's an eternal peace and then a flicker of fairy lights, there are thousands of them, swirling around me, on and off, like binary, they are quite beautiful and i find myself in serenity, each light reveals itself, one by one, jellyfish, those moon type ones with that elegant dome fluctuating, it's almost erotic the way these things pulse and move, they drift on invisible currents, a variety of sizes but uniform in shape, these are indeed moon like, aptly named. they trail those strange tendrils, some sweep over my, although i can't feel them, i do notice a visible energetic sensation as my hair stands on end, i remember i have a body.
the swarm passes over me and then as if a curtain is lifted an intense white light bathes me, it's warming and healing as i start to feel quite good, ecstatic almost, well i am outside my body at least but through the white light it flashes, a black long shape, a long dark thing, and behind it a huge eye. fear now, my eyes are wide open, i am shaking, inside my body, at least i am breathing, what the fuck is this, i start panicking and an voice says, 'easy captain, come on back to me, you're okay now, back in the seventh dimension', i look up expecting to see a beast but it's a beast of a man, the great beast who has his arm on my shoulder, a big ugly grin plastered across his face, 'welcome home captain.'
aryosho offers me a glass of water,'drink slowly, enjoy taste.'
i follow his advice, i feel very dry despite the aquatic experience, the water hits my mouth and it tastes amazing, it really does, it's the most delicious thing i have very put between my lips almost, it's vitality intoxicates, 'what is this stuff?'
'water.'
my attorney and i laugh, it's one of those moments when there's nothing much to do other than laugh at it all. we say our goodbyes to our hosts, there's a lot of bowing and asian ritual but we are all satisfied. my body feels strangely relaxed for such a strange and frightening journey, and i notice the other people sitting at their tables all looking somewhat in a similar state, recovering from some sort of new experience. the woman opens the door for us and we ascend the staircase, up through the kitchen which is empty and lit only by a small lamp. the restaurant itself is empty, seats sit on tablecloths and there's that artificial smell of detergent or bleach hanging in the air. we leave through the same doorway and corridor we entered, down the staircase into the car park, somewhere along the way the lady must have disappeared back into the restaurant.
we jump in the car and weave along the strange underground cavern, i'm super relaxed, my muscles feel jelly like and my mind is numbed by it all.
it's not until we hit the parkway that we start the debrief, my attorney is describing his experience with mermaids. his visions seem much more erotic than mine, he said there was not one point in which he felt frightened although he felt somewhat alarmed when he came around and saw me in my state, apparently i looked very apprehensive. we swapped stories, it was indeed a very bizarre night, not sure i would want to experience it again.
anyway that's the man, a strange wide perspective look of reality, he belongs on boston legal, he's got a very sharp mind and a cosmic outlook, he's very wealthy yet unless he's dressed in his zoot suits you would think he was just a bum. we often go out together and he'll drop wads of cash on the floor without even knowing, he cares little for money yet he makes loads of it, his home is like a museum, filled with art and sculpture and he has very good tastes, he indulges in pleasures and yet is a terrible drunk, but he has never harmed or attempted to hurt my character.
once i dragged him along to see a thomas dolby performance, he'd just flown back from singapore and was jet lagged and hung over, he ordered a few bottles of white wine and then drank them, at one point during  'hyperactive' he fell off his chair onto his back like a giant tortoise, people rushed to help him, and he said to them all, 'it's okay i'm a doctor, i'm a doctor, dr. cracks my name, i'm running a controlled experiment, lab rats, you're all lab rats.'
i laughed as i am used to this but then he said to a woman sitting near us, 'madam, may i interest you in some gorgonzola, top quality stuff.'
yeah he's a strange one, a beast indeed, but good hearted, super intelligent and nothing like you would expect from someone in his status.
i could fill this blog with our adventures, write pages but you get the idea, i'm just describing my friend to you, a multidimensional man, you gotta work hard to keep up with him, he never slows down, its always action stations, he's also very well travelled, lived with gorillas in africa, penguins in antarctica, extreme landscapes and extreme adventures, he's eaten everything, even insects, i imagine he's pretty good in a fight to but i have seen him panic when we planned a trip to the amazon, he started to look worried the more we spoke about visiting the cat people, one day he confessed to me he was anxious about the jaguars and i teased him saying if it were between him and myself the jaguar would choose him for i am alkaline, eating seaweed, vegetables and salads opposed to his carnivorous diet. no jaguar would pass by such a rich satisfying meal, it would be like fine dining for those jungle cats. we never did get to the amazon but maybe one day he will shake of the fear and we will.
anyway's enough about my attorney, aka dr. crack, i have a list to finish.