these days i'm into whatever comes my way, i embrace it as much as i can and if i can't, i can't, it really can't matter to much at that point in time, things always return eventually if you completely let them go, they do come back and remind you. 
recently i had a conversation with the arch angel michael whom as it turns out was very cool. my first 'real' experience with him and he was loving, understanding and giving, he listens... so if you ever feel like you have to ask for 'something to someone' ask him, he delivers. 
i really wanted to have the 15th off work but it was almost looking impossible, when it couldn't happen, i was told by a lovely old lady i work with, to ask archangel micheal, which i immediately did. 
he listened and delivered. i understand this sounds like first contact with an alien intelligence but that's what it feels like, apart from that its love at first sight from my point of view these angels come in such peace you can't help but to accept them, which is why i think i'm fascinated with science fiction as a way off expressing first contact, this also explains my fascination with plant medicines and shamanism, mysticism and magicks, invoking forces from beyond the self is a way of knowing your self. every thing is an expression of the self, so it stands to reason that your 'will' is to love it. i haven't quite got there but i feel closer today.  



  

the day is oppressive, dense and heavy, i can't get anything done, down on the beach the waves are chaos, the messy chop before the storm, i spend the day waiting for the southernly, it's lingering as i type my words.

 

truth is i stopped thinking for a while, my brain just slowed down it's processing speed and rebooted, new operating system. the differences are 
only noticeable in detachment, so i moved up close to the source and turned off the flow of useless information, politics, reading, opinion, speculation, chitter chatter, background noise, just kept listening to that k and k cd over and over, i got a sneaky remix cd as well so i often alternate which gives me a lot of pleasure, i love that music but even then, there comes a time when you strip down naked to the bone and there's nothing even there to assess what's what!
then through some miraculous healing you are reborn, with your new systems, and the strange thing is it feels like it was there all the time.
as you strip away the layers you begin to notice a hypersensitivity to the natural world, attuned, you perceive it as beauty, raw beauty, your love for it grows and you plunge into gardening. you don't know what your really doing, you're just working with land, and the land. 
the land takes over you, it occupies your time, maintaining, nurturing, nourishing you just loose yourself in it and then somewhere up the time line you have grown. 
that's the loop i'm in.

drinking in the sun like an ancient god travelling time, early morning beach sprawl, waves messy, sporadic horde of people passing by, i splash around like some sort of bird in deep water. frustrated with the surf i walk back to the morning, the cafes, the people, the humdrum, the haze, the dog days, the meandering glimpse through newspapers and my book, the sacred history. i read something about emanation that resonates with me. i flick through the morning, head home to wish my mum a happy birthday on skype, 75 she tells me, she's taking turmeric supplements, reckons it's saved her life. we chit chat for a while, she asks if i'll come to london again, offers to pay for the flight but i'm really not interested after the last debacle. 
god, these days i like home and my little beach, the idea of london reduces me to fear and drooling. i fucking hate that place, i'd go to bali, santa fe, nyc, tokyo, tel aviv in a flash but london no way.
strange that i can have a reasonable conversation with my mum after years of her being nasty, i realise she's been at the whisky so i guess it's softened her up a little, we don't speak for to long, i always get nervous that she will turn on me, so after a few minites i can't wait to get off the line.
later i hunt around looking for a cd to play in the car, i pick up 'warp factor 9' i have never played it and i'm really excited to hear it. in the car i slide it in, the first song sounds remarkably like pink floyd, it's david gilmore on guitar, when i hear the second track i'm stunned at how pink floyd like it sounds, this can't be right i think, ejecting the cd. it's the division bell. wrong cd in the case, where is warp factor 9?
i can't believe it!
driving along listening to the division bell i hit the richard wright track, 'turning inside out.' 
best song on the album except for that strange synthesiser bit, what were they thinking, it just don't work, thankfully it's not long, the tone is wrong. i'd substitute that part with some xylophones and chimes, not that harmonic tone, it's just wrong enough to irritate me, far to cheesy. 
wonder where my warp factor cd is?
  

wake up to a beautiful morning, sunlight streaming through mission control, everything looks immaculate after yesterdays cleaning, the wooden floors polished and gleam in dawns light as i make my way to the garden where pan sits waiting for some breakfast. his loyalty is regal, majestic out there in the kingdom of life, we sit and watch the morning stream through trees, birds zip across, the insects start up, blue skies hanging above.
i drive down to the beach, it's still early, not many people around, two surfers, a handful of swimmers and some people jogging. parking is easy. the surf comes in like a gentle stroke on a fresh canvass, it's powerless but refreshing, feels good but not enough to surf. i splash around, swim a bit, get my hair wet and head to the cafe with my johnathan black book. 
as the sleepy seaside town wakes up i drive back home, just missing the skool traffic, i have nothing to do, no place to be.

a few years ago i read the secret history by mr. black and was impressed with his take, despite his disregard for magick a term he seemed to avoid his work was based around mysticism while it touched upon magick without acknowledging it. 
his new book is equally as good, and i'm really enjoying reading it, recommending it to as many people as possible, especially those who place science as their religion.

i'd read the novel 'filth' a long time ago, being an avid reader of irvine welsh and was curious to see the film adaptation. 
i have to say while the film was good it deviated slightly from the book in a major way. the novel introduces a secondary character who grows as the plot progresses in the form of a tapeworm who seems to come into existence in a stream of conscious way, these thoughts are contained within the pages as an independent bubble of text becoming more and more conscious and self aware as the story of bruce, it's host develops. 
bruce himself is a corrupted police man who is falling apart, coke addicted, misogynistic, misanthropic, self destructive and heartbroken over a marriage that has ended, his course is a car crash but in the hands of welsh not only do we watch we stop the car and taste the blood. 
the film incorporated the tape worm but in a 'motif' image that appeared in bruce's imagined therapy sessions. it didn't work very well.
james mcavoy is brilliant as bruce, but it is painful to watch his decline and the inevitable results.
not pleasant viewing, not sure why i wanted to see it other than curiosity.

far out corporation - don't blame the beam

find out what your super power is. use magick or science, phycology or read entrails, what ever you use, find out your true will. 
align yourself with the sun, be it the one that hangs in space feeding us all with light or the metaphor of light, something that is a divinity. you can do this by spending a lot of time healing and living on your own, eventually you strip away all the false ego's and masks, eventually you reach a point of love, and access your holy guardian angel or augoeides or quantum uncertainty, which is indeed a creative force. 
you can also do this unconsciously, but the other element of your psyche should remain conscious enough to know what you 
1. love
2. when time no longer exists or you no longer exists
(hav't decided on that one therefore ...
...#3. when you no longer exist.
these are keys that open the door.

pouring out my head the time leak continues, missing fragments from the past and future seem to pump out endlessly, memories in future tense, ha, what a great line that is, i wish it were mine but it does describe my brains processes. i just wish i could tell my future memories from the past but my sequencer is on the blink.
that's why i had to hack my brain, rewire the thing with some new wetware, upgrade the operating system with some shamanistic voodoo. yeah come on, what would you do, sit there letting everything leak out till you are empty, that's one kind of death. me i tried the medical model and it just made me worse, those pills they gave me split my brain into two distinct areas in conflict, my rational mind needed defeating. some dmt, a lot of vine did the trick, i was just in the right place at the right time. 
okay, that's not true, we know the vine works in mysterious ways, it sought me out and i came to the party, never look back. the memory leak is just time dissolving, i get it now, it's time breaking down from it's linear flow. i always fucked with time so the process was second nature, i just let intuition guide me, it seemed to kick in when i had that head injury, i mean really kick in. i know things no one should really know, i know nothing.
  

5 am i wake up and drive down to the beach, the suns coming up but it's obscured by clouds, light barely penetrates the thick layer hanging low, i pull up at the beach watching the angry waves. there's no surf for me this morning, it's messy and dark, under currents forge deadly one way pathways, no one else is out. i fall asleep for a while, must have dozed off listening to the ocean roar. 
i grab a coffee (decaf) and drive back home into an electrical storm, lightning splits the horizon in two, the elements uncaged today, pounding rain begins to fall. 
at mission control i'm greeted by my water dragon, he looks forlorn sitting on the tiny wooden bridge getting wet in all the rain. i say hello and check pan in the back, his back legs have been playing up and he's been miserable the last few days, he's happy to see me. 
later the trees start swaying violently as the wind comes sweeping through the bushland, it's a almost howling like a gothic movie, branches start to fall, huge logs plummet down and suddenly debris fills the lawn. only yesterday i spend most of the day clearing it, working in the bloody garden and today it looks wild, that's the way it is i guess, gardens consume your time but they also heal you and offer you something in return, i look out at my balinese plants, the tiger grass i planted a few weeks ago is getting larger, the palms seem happy and the ferns all look healthy and well manicured. a log falls by my feet, it could have knocked me out easy, a fraction to the left, the thump is loud. i stand there wondering about the trees that surround me, how they must exist in this tension with gravity. when the rain comes i run inside.

beautiful!
there are things in this world that are simply beautiful and the lady that makes my smoothies is that. 
i really could get so lost in her i'd never find my way out, she would be my muse for lifetimes and we would be wrapped in eternity forever bound to one another and yet simultaneously free. is that ridiculous? i don't know, it makes sense to me, she may think it's ridiculous when i mention it one morning in the near future, come on, sooner or later i have to break through the spell and actually talk to her but for the moment i'm really enjoying her energy and the way it drives me, she really is neptune's daughter and neptune did offer me one when i was surfing one morning.
but this morning she was wearing a tee shirt that said, 'i'm no wifey' this morning and i read it and thought that's great, for i was mighty worried she was a wife to some lucky guy or gal.
well it was a beautiful smoothie, i like a good banana and dates with you.
a god and goddesses daughter. 

Unguarded Moments - The Greatest Guitar Band on Earth from Unguarded Moments on Vimeo.

imagine influencing people enough to make them pay homage to you in their own artistic and creative way, (these guys are young) leaving such an impression counts more than anything i reckon, more than awards maybe, more than any fleeting fame. here is a new generation passing on the message and i love it.

i had a memory download the other day, i don't know, i lost a lot of stuff when i had my brain injury and i still feel somewhat at odds with the way my brain works, completely out of whack with my mouth, i think something but say something else, it's so weird. even when words come out there's an internal narrative that is saying, 'what the fuck are you saying mission, that's not even correct.'

i don't know that frontal lobe blow was pretty severe, maybe i never recovered properly, i just smoked a shit load of weed and drunk buckets of amazonian shamanic vine until my head cracked open and i saw the fucking light. 

that's my story anyway, maybe my mouth has to catch up.

any sane man would have gone to some doctor and had an operation, nope not me, i just had to walk right through that transcendental door and down the rabbit hole. 

but you know what? that's the way the cards fell and i think they were all aces, or are they jokers, ha, you decide.

from my perspective i managed to do a few things i never dreamed were possible, and i changed my brain fundamentally in a way beyond neuroscience and prehistoric plasticity could, and apparently that's cutting edge.
my memory download - america. driving cars down the free way into the setting sun, travelling with sarah and that straight guy we corrupted, hanging out with those gay guys who took us to a gay cowboy bar, i was stoned out of my skull as we drove down a spiral mountain road smoking grass listening to reggae. when we got to the bar i felt some kind of culture shock, it took me a few drinks to get comfortable, i ended up having a great night, we were in virginia or carolina, the sun was glorious, the night stars filled the skies, i liked the wide open space, i liked the people, i'd already fallen in love with america but that was the first time i felt free. i could have done anything i wanted, i had a girl in london, sally, i was detaching, not just from her but from london, from everything i knew, london was way behind me, i was hungry for new experiences and the romance of the american road held me captaive, i'd read so many american writers, hunter s thompson, william burroughs, jack, ginsberg, woolfe,their words were already in my dna. 
then that band came to my mind, a band i listened to on cassette around the states in that car, 'box of frogs' who were actually 'the yarbirds' reformed. 
that was the memory.  

blank canvass blues, it's already got a black coat which i spayed upon it while creating a sigil, i can't quite recall the intent but i do know it worked but that was a few years ago. my intent is to just to paint a sun. im not sure what style it would take, but i want a sun on a canvass to hang in my lounge.
a moon to but that will be later, on a different canvass.
i'm hoping the colour of my son will be a bright orange reddish white, much like the photographs nasa take, i want to capture the energy. that's the will of this painting, let's see how close i can get.

in every art, conflicts arise, it's the way, the process is about wrestling with your own tension, stretching those muscles and tendons, massaging the skin within, undoing entanglements and knots, because you may not even know it but you are reaching for a zen point. zen man, everything else dissipates, hunger, anger, ego, pride, shame, you just work right through that, leaving a trail of words or paintings or whatever it is, you just push and push it all out, until zen.
in zen there's nothing else but the perfect thought and its expression, the principle all artists want to reach i think.
i work with the idea everything is not real, not what it actually is, the only way we can understand it or glimpse it is within a magickal framework. 
magick is a process like art, it's about creation, expression and action and the relationship between them. one can get stuck in the details but it really is all focused on directing ones will. 
be careful what you will for is all i have to say about that, i think the best magickians and artists are the ones whom put their craft above their desires, because the desire becomes the intention and whatever currents are running leak out, i find it best to desire nothing, no outcome, no expectation, in fact forget the spell you just cast, forget it by not remembering it, thats why sigils were invented, a subconscious tool.
art is magick and magick is art!

my day off comes to me, early morning i plant some seeds in the dawn sunlight, five is a good number i think as i carefully work earth fertility, grow tiny ones grow, i love you very deeply, grow and bloom and spread love through the kingdom.
it's quite the blissful way to start the day.
next stop i'm working with the hound pan whom requires some play and nutrition, so we chase the frisbee but he's not caring himself as well as i am, he's getting older while i seem to get younger, forgetting more and more in my tiny gigantic universe where less is really more, i sweep the decks, hoist the sail and welcome the day, and here comes the electrician, we don't speak much, i jump online and write to a friend, a new friend in canada, and canada never looked so beautiful as it does now.
grace by name grace by nature, i make good friends.
well i'm in some strange be bop hip priest mode today. my friend chris comes over to assist with some plumbing, and chris is one of those people who is just a fine man, he's a great guy, a surfer. i'm a fin man, he's a board rider.
we know one another quite well, and he fixes up my leak. as he leaves on a sexy harley i give him some cake, it's a pretty basic one but i'm grateful that he came over and helped me out. 
then the electrician finishes up and my power returns,
some more net time and then garden. yeah gardening is a good thing, i totally love it especially at night. but as i'm looking down upon my ferns and palms i think about my friend evan and how much i miss him. when i think about tim, dr. crack to you, i feel okay, it don't feel like it did.
that's a good thing, it means i am healing.

my book is available in kindle form here on amazon,

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Adventures-Of-Captain-Mission-Mission-ebook/dp/B00GLFBJZ8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1384155618&sr=1-1

the nightmare paintings meets the day dream writings. old captain mission finds his way to the gallery, opening night, parks right outside and strolls in to the corridor where collective 777 have some paintings based around the abbey at thelema, two of which are outstanding, the artist is michelle nolte.
the main room hosts a collection of crowleys artwork which robert burratti has put together. i chat with robert about some of the art and he is a really sound guy. he tells me he's putting together a collection of esoteric artwork and i mention the work of australian artist steve kilbey, robert seems keen.
the first thing i noticed was the music, it was brilliant and reminded me of the guilt trip cds, so i asked who it was, jeff martin wrote it for the exhibition specially, the jim morrison clone from the tea party. it's brilliant music, perfect for this exhibition. the room starts to fill up so i stroll around soaking up the paintings, yeah yeah yeah, some are magickal you can see that, the three from the tarot stand out as being quite different, the cock and the serpent the most sexually suggestive and when the head of the oto steps in to introduce crowley as a man who would have hated the nanny state and big government, sticking it to the man, he says crowley also believed magick was art. i agree, it is indeed art, the act of creation is magickal.
so the oto guy turns out to be in direct linage from ac himself, apparently there are only five people on earth who can claim that.
he tells us that crowley stood in front of the canvass and waited for the will of the painting to manifest, embedding some of his greatest ideas in them as words couldn't contain the symbolic information, he requested that we just look at them, each one of us will find something, he was right, i found anya an artist herself standing outside with her people, we chatted a bit and she looked pretty good in the fading light but time was running away, it had been a huge week. 
a few days earlier i saw steve kilbey  play with strings and the hoffmenn. what a joy that was, inspired setlist revamped mixture of songs, mostly sounding fresh and revitalised. it was a great night and fittingly these two influential individuals should come together in a celebration of art. i hope robert has a good look at steve's work, i think he'd be really impressed. 
over the years several oto people had attempted to recruit me, but i'm actually not into group magick, it's like group sex really, somethings are just close to the heart, however i guess there is a sound base in energy increasing via numbers, however i seem to generate enough on my own if i synchronise with the moon. nope magickal orders and their rituals are not for me, i come from the same tradition that grouch did, any club that would have me for a member is not worth joining. ha! pook is here.
great paintings, well worth the trip.

nocturnal times have come, sweeping down upon my girl, she lay's in dream zone winter land, where time is
frozen and only the ghosts of future memories visit.
she knows nothing of this, her dreams are the cotton wooly images of infancy, safe and soothing, like a mothers hands upon a child in cot, touching the surface of skin lightly, just enough to not know. 
above her head, some halo shimmers, cast there by her pure intent for when she wakes she will be lost and the band of light begone.