the narcotic sex scent of elderberry mixed with absinthe, the strange impulsive flesh machinery, biological chemical but mostly neurological my impulse engine is throbbing captain.
i am orbiting a galaxy of desire. my thrusters are firing, penetrating new frontiers in pornographic details. 
the slow motion, fast action like a machine with it's over riding program, hacked and fire-walled, there's blood on the tracks, slaughter in the air. someone else inside me, someone could get skinned. 
how? 
my my, i just can't say know. 
i'm the beauty, she's the beast. 
night time, unreal time. i figure it all when i'm laying on the bed staring at the ceiling. it reminds me of my grandmothers home, high ceilings with some sort of intricate pattern blended into the design. 
for a while i just gaze at it thinking it is wooden and then painted over but i'm informed by my friend it's tin. and as she say's the word tin, she adds, faraday, which i mistake as far away. far away cage.
she's very smart, angelica, an old soul.
the strange thing about the cottage is we went for a walk, we started out early looking for a pizza place, but quickly became lost even though we knew we were only very close to the cottage. the more we walked the stranger the whole experience became, as every time we looked up, there were the same street names. two different ones. i suggested we find the main street and retrace our steps but we never got there, instead we just walked and walked in strange loops. 
i found a two dollar coin, i gave it to her. 
she found a two dollar coin and she gave it to me. 
when we got back to the cottage and the room we drunk two bottles of water each and smoked some weed.
conversations started in one place and spun in strange patterns and trajectories, i was spellbound by two things, the energy and the intellect, but there was a power in her mind i liked. 
we stayed in the far away cage until morning. 
when we departed and went our seperate ways i slipped into the other dimension, and it seemed so ordinary. 

your aids to evolution?
you steal things, you lie, you have a mighty ego. you seek conquest, you want adoration, you compete and spread rumour. these are your aids to your own evolution, not mine.
you never walked away from a partnership, you were abandoned. 
my evolution, man you would never even fathom it. 

i'm in the hyatt regency with my cousin, he's over from canada on an around the world tour and it's his first time in sydney. he's here for one day only and we are eating a massive breakfast, catching up. 
i want to show him the sights, as much as i can in a day so i'm already planning the important parts over coffee. we swap a few family stories, he tells me about his divorce and the fall out. 
divorce is always hard for the men, we are dumb stupid creatures in a marriage, get dependant and comfortable, start sliding into neglect, we cease thinking and fall into comfort zones and fluffy cotton wool dreams where everything is easy and if it gets to hard we have a wife to fall back on. 
i lived with these guys for a while, watched their family, it was never really going to work out, i knew that back then. however he needs a sympathetic friend and i being family i fall into the role.
later i tell him a truth i hope he appreciates.
when i stayed with them he was an animal, a heat seeking focused missile whose only target was making money. she spent it, he earns it. he was so obsessed nothing else mattered, i mean nothing. 
occasionally there are people who have these qualities, its psychotic in a way and something i wish i had, sometimes.
anyway you cannot have a healthy family life and pursue this business obsession at the same time, the two opposite energies, and one sacrifices the other. eventually both are damaged and because women are smart they have already planned for survival mechanisms in advance.
anyway he wants to live in sydney, he falls in love with the city, the women, the sun, the water, the lifestyle. he's in shock, most people don't understand the hedonistic pleasures sydney is geared up for. it's attractive, sensual and sexy, and everyone wants to live here. we take a boat out, i show him the opera house, the bridge some other landmarks. 
we walk around the opera house and he's amazed at its structure, we wander through the botanical gardens, we go up counterpoint tower, into world square and china town, back into darling harbour and cockle bay, towards bangaroo, where we have dinner.
it's a good day, i hope he does come out and live in sydney, he seems to really love the place. i know he is lonely in canada. he asks me all the time if i am lonely here on my own.
i say no, i'm very content in my own company and do not require people to make me happy.
he is envious, i see it in his eyes.
i remind him he has the money, whereas i struggle.
we say goodbye, he has a need to get the last word in, i guess being older he needs to feel responsible. i don't really have an attachment to ego so for me i can just smile but he's suffering. he is thinking about death and wants a clean slate with everyone,
i tell him to relax, by the time my slate is clean we will all be dead.

couldn't get down this morning as i was in buddha cafe meeting these important peoples, and all day i felt this annoying money on my back, get back get back, get back in the surf. so i drove down in the afternoon and was surprised at the crowd, i went to park in a space and some girl who had driven passed the space and was some way ahead just reversed really quickly and wound down her window.
'oh that's my space.'
'have it, i am not going to fight over it.' i say all relaxed and chilled amicable like a buddha.
'i was here first, i want that space.'
'it's yours,' i repeat.
'getting angry now she says, 'i have shit i need to do today and i was here first.'
'we all have shit to do, why don't you park your car and let me drive away from you.'
'i was here first,' she yells out.
man i drive around the corner park and have a surf. my neighbour is in the water, we chat. there's a storm coming, big surf and chop. i'm catching a couple of waves and struggling with the rip.
later i wander through the car park, i see the ladies car in the space. it has a parking ticket, she was only allowed to stay there for 30 mins. 
that's the way it is with me sucker. i sit down opposite and have a drink and about twenty minites later she appears in her car at the exit where she has to give way. i can see the look of madness in her eyes, an angry fucked up unit of loathing. i smile at her when she sees me sitting opposite, you were there first, i whisper.

it appears solid, yet it is just a cloud, dark and ominous hanging over the beach filling one half of the sky. the other half is ridiculously blue but the blazing sunlight cannot penetrate the dark cloud and the water in it's shadow threatens menace. 

there's three swimmers this morning, all hover near the shoreline as i pass them by wading out into the surprisingly warm water. no waves. 

it's all very dramatic and after yesterdays shark sighting people are nervous but we are surfers and the call of the water over rides every logical impulsion. 

forty minites later i'm drinking coffee in the sunlight, reading newspapers. the day is about to begin and it's not even 0700.

my problem with love is that it is a state of inertia. it embraces the idea of acceptance, and being. all great ideas in theory but reality is composed of friction and doing, not being. nothing real just is being, things are doing. even the universe is in flux, love just is surrendering to something other than the self. yet the self is in conflict all the time, a discordant march of identity, ideas and beliefs, always changing and moving, never still. 
yes i love my son, but i do not accept everything he chooses to do i should love, i don't love the fact he smokes cigarettes or drinks alcohol. 
love cannot be the end point, it is the beginning of something, maybe a process whereby surrendering to something greater be it, another person, an animal, an idea or a piece of art we are now in a position to see where that takes us. however the truth of the matter is it may drive us but we are not driving it. is love loss of self control? a little perhaps, maybe it's just wanting the best for someone, but people are complex. they don't always want the best for people they claim to love. after all people are driven by demons, ideologies and their own beliefs that have propelled them, be it jealous ones or political. love is the place where people feel safe.
i am reminded of a friends wise words. 
i was on auto pilot  not thinking in a social situation, i was saying goodbye.
'take care,' i said.
'no. take risks,' he replied.
risks move us and keep us alive, or at least living. 
we must calculate them obviously, but without risk we are nothing. i suggest that we incorporate love with risks, therefore do with love. lest we are just dreamers alive and dreaming about what could be. that's fine and i see value in this, for dreamers have a place but like smoke dreams are pointless unless they have substance which is why dreams require deep understanding, not dismissal upon awakening. 
for a long sleep i dreamt of being, it was nice, safe and unusual but now i must wake up. wake up with me, let's do something amazing!

the surf, every morning has been large but weak, not enough to propel me but big enough to play in, me and a handful of enthusiastic diggers whom have joined me. 
we splash around for an hour.
a big cloud blocks the sun and i swim in its shadow.
in that moment everything changes. some dormant sensory apparatus kicks in and i'm aware of my celestial place. my solar plexus opens up and drinks in electromagnetic radiation, feeding my cells, feeding my bones. i almost feel the spiral currents of bone breathing light, in it's strange dance through my body.
portals open up, communication channels appear clear, transmissions begin.
later i get a text from someone organising a ufo conference and another for a cosmic consciousness conference, they are promoting sone event, and ask if i will attend. i am not interested in these things, out grown them, and cynical of events and people. i notice the ticket is $400 and it's being held in byron bay.
'do aliens exist?' the banner asks.
well if you don't know now i guess you will always be asking that question. 
i delete the messages and dismiss the sender.
the industry of aliens, ufo's and consciousness has become absurd, filled with ego's and profits. not my cup of tea at all. 

i've been in peculating mode with my novel, just sitting on the whole thing like an egg incubating. some ideas have arisen, slight changes, details and diversions. i'm going to start at the end, embellish some scenes and fill out some details. my editor is good, i trust her completely. she has good ideas and has been working hard on the first draft. 

i'm very excited about this.

driving down at sunrise through early morning fog, the first blast of sunlight hits the car windscreen obliterating everything in a vast wash. i can no longer see the road, the trees, other cars and i know there is a cyclist in front somewhere so i have to slow down to a crawl. even the white line that informs my lane has vanished.
everything disappeared for about three minutes, i was lost. it was frightening, and strange. if i stopped a car behind me would drive into me, if i pulled over where would i go? 
i put my beam on but it disappeared into the white light, swallowed by the source of everything. how ironic. 
use the force mission, it's strong with you. it is, i did, and i found circumstances changed as the road curved around, and even though when i parked i faced the sun again it was not so bad.
once out there in the water the surf was massive, but weak, not great conditions. i did enjoy a splash and play but couldn't really catch any waves. the water was surprisingly warm, a few old people swam past and looked at me with my fin. 
the sun and the sea kickstarted my day. 

the void has called me, through dream yoga. it obliterates the known like a devouring god. 
all thoughts are energy, and all thoughts of the void feed its growth. 

'you are alive, that means you have, a responsibility.'
'i'm not a super hero.'
'yes you are captain mission, you are captain mission.'
'afraid not. you have got confused along the way, it can happen. i've seen it occur many times, it's easy to get confused when you focus upon me, i'm a massive rorschach test.'
'stop it mission, stop fucking with me.'
'sorry babe, i know it's hard to accept but find someone else to focus upon.'
'fuck off mission.'

i'm the void, i devour you. my words and thoughts infiltrate your mind as it is weak and vulnerable. it is defenceless and filled with candy floss. it really wants to believe in all the nice things life has to offer, things like love, joy and bliss. but these are infants dreams. life is a howling storm of chaos and conflict and you protect yourself from the truth with idiot walls and ideals.

'but i believed in you.'
'you believe in your idea of me, but not in me. and that is the cause of your sickness.'
'i'm not sick! you have to have something to believe in, something to look forwards to, my grandfather always told me that.'
'i believe in death and life. i look forwards to both.'
'you are horrible.'
'no. i am free.'


  

in contrast to brain dead zombies, here's an amazing brain. enjoy

my review of 'the lebs' is this.
a man with 3 degrees wrote this book.
he's inspired by the fact his hero, an australian boxer trains while soiling himself.
he's inspired by gang rape and anti semitism, and hatred towards white civilisation and australian girls. 
there are moments where his words are great, and i confess the seed of a writer is apparent but 99% of this book is really fucking unreadable tripe and shame to the usual suspects, the publishers and university types who fuel this type of ideology. they should be sent to saudi arabia of venezuela to experience the utopia they aspire to. 
no doubt this moron will be offered a sydney peace prize by the idiots who seem in control of cultural group think. 
god help us all. 

recently i re read some peter f hamilton, 'great north road' followed by, 'pandoras star' and 'judas unchained. 
the gnr is a stand alone novel but the other two are part of a series called the commenwealth saga. the commonwealth being a universe we inhabit in the far future along with a few other alien races. 
within this universe wormhole travel is the method of movement from space to space and faster than light ships are not necessary. 
the main story is about a group of terrorist called the guardians whom are being chased by the authorities as they believe there is an hostile alien that has infiltrated the commonwealth and forcing it to war with a yet undiscovered alien race called the immotiles whom have been trapped in a dyson sphere by a mysterious force field which is released by an investigative team.
theres so much to like about the story, it's complex and intricate, the characters are all believable as is the technology and the various threads that all come together at the end.
i'm going to have a short break from hamilton and read 'the lebs' then i will return to his void trilogy.

i always hated the sydney writers festival  it should be called 'the left wing group think approach to what writing should be in a revolutionary framework for dummies.'

i went along to the university to catch three lectures and discussions which confirmed my absolute distaste for writers and publishers who manipulate the market through their self important lenses of distorted perceptions.

let's clarify.

first up are three young women publishers who all share a great interest in getting writers to get published, they go on about the submission process and the fucking way a writer and publisher has a special relationship. now this may occur in small publishing houses,  but let me tell you when i asked a permanent question that shocked the whole panel and made them withdraw into silence at the end of their talk. they were speechless.

i simply asked how much does the writer actually get from the sale of a book valued at AU$30 which is the average cost of a paperback here in the clever country.

the answer, reluctantly avoided by our experts was offered by an audience member at $2.50 to which i replied, 'then its similar to the music buisness, artists exploited for their talent but a bunch of marketers who sell.'

the panel just nodded and left.

next up was the young arab australian writer michael mohammed ahmad who was promoting his book, 'the lebs,' and while his energy and passion is great it's completely and dangerously misguided. he hates white culture, white people and white society. he's so filled with intellectual hate his three degrees and access to academic brainwashing are his fallback position when arguing his case.

i liked him, i liked his inner writer but basically his brain is controlled by ideologies that will never make humanity better, they always fail. he's just to far gone to see it. his hero is the australian boxer jeff fenich who trained so hard he shat his pants rather than leave his training program. he sees that as conviction whereas i see that as a glitch in his training. if jeff was so disciplined and in control he should have trained his bowels first not succumbed to soiling himself in a gym while training. it's not really what i consider a mark of respect, more of an indication of ignorance.  micheal puts back a lot into his 'black' community but it's antagonistic to white people, it's basically racist although mike can quote malcolm x as to why it is not. i would have preferred a writer who hates white people to say 'i'm racist, i hate white people' than someone to use an academic argument that is weak, out of space time, and irrelevant. 

i bought a copy of his book, when he signed it the first question he asked me was, 'what's your background brother?'

i told him i was from earth. 

but what i wanted to tell him was i am not your brother.

next up was a discussion with a group of internet news providers, which turned out to be nothing literary at all but a bunch of socialists having a platform to knock the usual suspects.

i tuned right out and at one point back in, only to hear one of the most respected internet journalists make an allegation about the australian newspaper in some articles it had been writing over the last two editions that was about debating societies at university. he suggested that the australian did not want women on them but he did not know i had read the pieces and he was misrepresenting, actually telling lies about the content. the australian was suggesting people are placed on panels as they have skills not because of their gender. it's a nuanced argument and there are vast and complex repercussions for women having a position based on being a woman rather than skill or talent. 

it really was pointless arguing with a room filled with zombies, i just ate some nice food they offered me and left with my mind made up, i would never step foot in a university again as they are crammed full with dumb people.    

   

i've never been a big birthday kinda guy but on march 10 i celebrated my birthday by returning to work after being sick for a week. 

i was under the impression i was a year older than i actually am, thus i have gained a year, yes indeed. the best birthday present i could possibly have one would imagine. 

 

after all these years, i have ended up where i am meant to be, in a unit i love, run by a great manager, a woman i really respect and admire, she's amazing. the ironic thing is our service is changing in march, it's being taken over. we are doomed. it's our last days, our dying days. 
i can't quite work out if i am unlucky or lucky. i arrive here six months ago  against my will, find it a great workplace and now in a few weeks it will be taken away. i'm unlucky. right?
but then maybe i am lucky to have found that place, even for a brief time it was amazing. my manager is amazing, and the clients are great. 
anyway. thinking about this paradox has sent me quite mad, lost my mind, my concentration is fucked, i'm so overwhelmed with paperwork, with reports i am failing in the total process of 'paperwork,' it's far to much in quantity, far to repetitive, and far to absurd.
however this lack of focus has given me a chance to do something i love doing, connect with one client and change their life.
so i am working with a guy in a wheelchair, and at first he wouldn't let me near him but he's got to know me now, and now we are friends. now there's a story of us, now i make changes, taking him from his old workshop into a new one. replacing his coke with beer, taking him out into the community for new experiences and adventures, pubs, bands and restaurants, he's doing normal things, making choices and smiling. 
    

people are so desperate to believe in something they believe anything.
'i love you,' he whispers in her ear lobe over the cocktails she has bought. she's already lent him two grand, what's a few drinks. i love you, is what she wants to hear, so like a key unlocking a door the petals in her bitter heart unfold and a secret timeline is revealed. it's the one where he takes her and her child, commits to them exclusively and saves her from the sadness she feels. the sadness because she is not beautiful, nor smart, nor flush with cash, after all she has been struggling with social services for years, lives with her parents, but she wants his love so bad she has already given him everything she has, even her flesh on that first night they met.
when he will not return her calls she starts that inevitable slide, further self loathing, further hurt, further sadness. her father yells at her, 'how could you give your savings to a stranger?'
her daughter looks at her wondering why they are unable to afford the cinema.
'why,' she cries, 'why?'

when i see her she is hostile, angry at me, the innocent, projecting and acting like a child. i buy her coffee as her anger slips from her tongue, her face contorted and eyes seeping rage. it deflects from me, and i watch her back cloud swallow her up. 
'i'll see you tomorrow,' she says and then when tomorrow comes she has gone. 

why? the answer is so obvious. i see it, we see it. why can't she?

HUANTED BY POE

one of my fave albums, from another life. enjoy.

i must stop announcing things in advance, it's like a curse. 
i've noticed this when i proclaim on here, i'm going to read certain books, something always stops me. take a few posts ago when i said i would be reading herbert shelby, that has not happened, although i did read one short story. then i began something else, so i have to finish that. 
however i know shelby will hold some effect upon me. 

so yesterday evening was so perfect i took myself outside and returned into the water after a long time. 
the effect was instant. 
it was glorious, however neptune is angry with me. yeah really, i know these things. he says i must be disciplined and give him a commitment before he gives me his daughters.  he says, i must surf when ever possible. i must re devote myself to his energy, he was really fucking angry with me and made it known when i shut my eyes  and spoke with him. i understand that stuff, he's right, i was wrong.   

i was watching a clip of steely dan playing to a tiny audience, answering questions and telling stories. i was cast back to a radio show on capital radio where a guy played rock songs late at night, and i first heard steely dan. the show was called 'your mother wouldn't like it.'
anyway it was not until i heard 'haitian divorce' that i really liked their vibe, only because lyrically they were good story tellers. 'kid charlemagne' was a good one to.
i never understood what the hell 'divorce' was all about, but it had a great feel, part science fiction, part william burroughs and part sub tropical lust story. 
there's that weird processed guitar, check the fade out, the reggae groove and donald fagans amazing voice. 
later i found out it was about a period in time americans would travel down to haiti to get a divorce and remarry their girlfriends all in a weekend. 
apparently the haiti govt. made a killing arranging these divorce tourists holidays and apparently only one person had to turn up. all perfectly legal. so he's telling a story about a woman (babs)who travels down to split from her old man 'clean willy', gets divorced, picks up a guy (some charlie)  in a bar, and on return to the usa finds she is pregnant and gives birth.
it's a weird song man, but it's great, it's great because the lyrics  match the music. that's what makes a song great for me.