train ride down to the coast to tez and jean's house in worthing, so good to see them in the flesh as we usually skype. the weather is awful and it's cold but i feel warm as i am with two old friends, it's fantastic to see them again after a few years. off course we have aged a bit and slowed down so it's nice to be around people who are on the same wavelength and physicality as myself. 
tez and jean have always been a wealth of knowledge and great company, they are also excellent cooks so i am fed well, nutritious health fresh vegan food. wow! i'm so grateful. the first night i sleep like a baby, wake up feeling completely alive and ready for anything. we take a nice drive into town and i buy some long pants as my legs are freezing. then a little tour around the [place. it's okay, a good place, people are friendly and helpful, totally different vibe from londonistan. people have tiome to stop and chat, it's slower, more traditional and english in that gentle kind way. i like it although i feel a bit of a fish out of water, the beach is filled with rocks and the water looks so uninviting and angry. we have a quaint tea and cake in the lido at the pier and although i am freezing from that onshore wind, the hot drink helps. it's quite amazing how much history tez knows. to be honest tez should have his own you tube channel and i think it would be very popular but he's a humble modest guy and avoids attention.
so for a few days i feel like i am in a sanctuary, being looked after by two beautiful people. we have a laugh as we discuss the world. tales are told, memories of east london where we all hail from surface up and local folklore placed into context. fairy rings, energetic pathways, magick and new eras, politics, secret agendas, possible strategies to navigate them, everything worthwhile is discussed. i drink a few guinesses, eat more great food, sleep deep sleeps and dream weird dreams. we take a group photo together, it's our album cover for a new band called 'pterodactyl hex.' 
jean plays sitar, tez on guitars and i do vocals and tabla.
before i know it it is time to return, london is a shock again, the anthesis of the south coast.

as usual i arrive early and haul my suitcase across the city on the tube, london is cold, grey and wet. already i feel depressed and out of place. all i can think about is the ocean back home, terrible beach where i miss my morning surfs, the smell of good coffee afterwards, and the sun on my face. anyways here i am, gotta make the most of it i guess. when i get to mums everyone is sick, mum, my brother and the people that seem to come and go. jake is fit as a fiddle, he's off to italy for work for a few days but returns in a few days but before he leaves we head into london where i stock up on rare books and stuff at my fave places. london seems nuts, from now on i will refer to it as londonistan, seeing as though the islamic population outnumbers everything else.  it's packed with tourists, americans, italians, spanish, it really is quite the tourist city. occasionally i hear someone speaking in english.
i can't help than notice a lot of the pubs seem to be shut down, that's a step in the right direction but it takes away the very fabric of the london i know. there are some pubs open, very expensive and crowded, far to loud for me although i do occasionally stop for a guinness on doctor's orders.
my brother invites me to his workspace, a huge big tower made from brick and glass in algate. from up there i can see east london, the old architecture looks amazing, the new not so much. generic buildings, even the telephone shaped one looks ugly and lacks imagination, the shard is modern and looks good but belongs in dubui, the pickle is wonderful but belongs in dallas. 
on the street it's bangldesh. 
we walk to (whitechapel) london hospital where i was born. the original building still stands although it resembles a victorian insane asylum, with it's gothic turrets and gargoyles. ancient brick crumbles and faded with age. this whole building has closed down and they relocated now, down the road stands the new london hospital, it's ugly and has a generic failing nhs sort of feel.
we wander along to my first home, 'zion house' in sidney street, the roads are tiny and the apartments are equally small. i can't believe this area, when i was born this was considered the biggest slum in europe but now it's a mini bangladesh a few minutes walk from the city. londons ever expanding boundaries kinda started here, in the background of these council homes stands the shard and the new skyscrapers, you can even see the eye.
along the main road of whitechapel are the ruins of the white chapel of saint mary matfelon, now just a few white stones. as i stand staring at them a black dude with a headscarf wrapped around his head, wearing torn plastic globves comes over to shake my hands. he says, hello and tells my brother about me. it's weird, this sort of thing happens quite often, random strangers come up and start saying to whomever i am with, 'this guy is very amazing, he's special, he's important, he's an angel, a legend,' etc.
not only is it embarrassing for me, but whomever i am with is left bewildered and lost for words, as is my brother whom looks nervous as the guy shakes my hand and walks off fulfilled.
we wander around, pop into 'the ten bells' a famous haunt for east london prostitutes in the olde days, in fact jack the rippers victims had their last ever drinks there. now it's filled with yuppies and advertising people.
one fine day i walk through hamstead with jake, he shows me a new bookshop which i really like. it's all arranged in geographical terms. in hampstead i feel more relaxed and in an environment i can relate two. it was a big haunt for me as a young teen and now jake lives there. sunday afternoon it's heaving, everything is open and cafes and pubs are packed. 

the transport system has declined a lot in the year since i was here last, often trains don't run, buses are unmarked and the drivers don't really speak to the public so they are no help. it's all very weird. jake and i made the mistake of catching a train via wembley when a soccer match was on, it was squished up to the max. very uncomfortable and unhealthy.

an hour of boxing this morning, wow, i'm feeling good. move fast and punch hard, i feel confident enough to handle myself in a fight now. especially ready for londonistan where it appears violence is the currency. obviously if it's an acid attack i will be in deep trouble but knives, fists and any sort of punch up i am ready. i'm going to punch like a concrete block and sting like a man o war jellyfish. but only if i have to. i am aligned with mars for london

on the flip side i'm emotionally filled with love and peace, good vibrations cruise from my body in erotic pulsing waves of creativity, sensuality and charm. strange, i have not felt this energy in a while, it's been dormant or awaiting a moment where the body, heart and mind are aligned with venus for asia.

i awake again after a very long 24 hours, how do they stretch it out into what feels like 48? i'm pottering around, this and that, expanding into that strange inertia variation as i always do before life changing events. everything looks jammed packed, no space as the walls close in upon me. i do live in a suitcase.

the adventure beckons, the lure of sirens singing and shrieking enchantments, i throw a couple of books in my bag.  david zindell's 'neverness' light reading, heavy story which can be dis-guarded after reading as i have another copy. smart travel. a pair of swimmers and two shorts, old church t shirts that are falling apart. their last voyage out. men always find it hard letting go of old t shirts, it's a strange relationship.
the flight to bali occurs with my head in a book, i hardly notice the journey. on arrival there's a lot of waiting around but eventually i meet my driver whom i employ as a tour driver later in the week. 
oh no! the hotel is not quite what i wanted, it's in the heart of legian, and nowhere near as glamourous as my previous stays. i kick myself for not returning to sanur which is further north and less touristy. the town is filled with tourists, restaurants and bars. i make friends with a guy from mullumbimbi, we share a lot in common both having worked in youth work and homelessness. i tell him about some lovely weed i smoked a few weeks ago and he says, 'that's silver widow right?' 
he is right. 

after a chat he tells me his neighbour has a supply and suggests he may be able to acquire some for me. unfortunately we never meet again and like all transient things i am left wondering if it was all a dream. others in the hotel are dogy aussies, tattooed up, alcohol fuelled and chain smoking with their oversized girls friends who burst out of bikini's and talk far to loudly about getting their hair done. i hot tail it to ubud where i hang out with the monkeys who are slightly more cultured than the australian tourists.

i have lunch over the rice fields as a storm comes in, it's quite dramatic and beautiful. outside of time.

udud is a bit touristy as well and somewhat filled with modern shops, restaurants and spas. i ask my driver to take me somewhere where are not many people and i can get a massage.

we end up in some temple, it's stunning traditional architecture and gardens are almost japanese, although with a huge hindu influence. the women wear traditional sarongs and the building is hidden along a long walkway.

two hours later i'm floating on air.

we stop at a place i always visit to pick up a couple of sarongs, i end up buying a shirt as well. then off to the local chocolate factory where they have taste testing but the only thing i want is the coffee flavoured one. it's good but not brilliant. at least, not as good as european chocolate. 

another day i walk along the beach, it's very different from the beach i wandered along 10 years ago when i bumped into my friend from sydney who was holidaying with her husband. now there's a trail of litter, plastic bottles and bags. it's disturbing. part of me wants to clean it up, it would take about two years and i wonder why the local authority doesn't just ban plastic at the beach. there are plenty of locals selling fresh coconuts which they machete open for you to drink. 

it's a long walk but i get to the infamous 'mr. potato head' where i grab a tonic water and lunch. surrounded by exotic women in bikinis, sipping cocktails while taking a dip in the infinity pool. they lounge around looking glamourous on the lounges and comfortable recliners, while some very deep chill out music plays across the whole place. i could stay here all day, and i do.

getting a moter scooter back i feel the cool breeze cut through the hot heavy air, dodging oncoming bikes and cars, the traffic system here is chaos but it works perfectly unless you are a westerner. i guess there's some sort of telepathic communication going on, some instinctive understanding of finding order within chaos. 

there's a lot of lounging around, eating nice salads, reading and sleeping and then i'm heading to london.

back at the enmore i am there to see and listen to one of my favourite political commentators douglas murray in a show called uncomfortable conversations, which is basically a chat hosted by some young gay podcast guy with the formidable intellect of douglas whom is also gay but in a less obvious way. i was there really to support douglas as he has been a lone sane voice and spokesman for israel in the current madness. he is not only articulate but funny, and easy to like. somehow i ended up down the front, and i think as douglas walks on stage can see he is overwhelmed by the audience applause. 

from the start it's a confrontational interview, the host is good, he challenges murray's stance and attempts to advocate for the other side, yet murray is able to remain calm and in control offering a counter- argument that is rational and reasonable. 

time flies by, most of what is discussed is already known to me, and although i am on side with murray i feel an elevated respect for a man who challenges the status quo and addresses the establishment with such ferocity and analysis. he can take apart the counter argument in the vein of that other incredible mind of the late christopher hitchens whom i also heard once demolish a pro-theocratic iranian audience. absolutely remarkable non politically correct these two champions are the last of a dying breed.

one thing that murray explains is how it is better to be true to what's just and true than what's expected as it's the trend, fashion or peer pressure forces you into. he says, 'one path leads to slavery, the other freedom, you may make a lot of enemies but you will also make good and true friends.'

at the end i stand up and clap, i chat with a few people in the packed enmore. we all agree it's nice not to feel so alone politically, and i must admit for the first time in a long time it was. 

as usual there are a crowd of morons outside protesting, screaming and spitting at people. the usual chants of 'rivers and seas' and intimidation. apparently they attempted to get the event closed down but the enmore refused and douglas mentioned how brave the management were to continue with the event as the pressure was quite hard with even staff being put at risk.

interesting times. 

on the way home i sit opposite a guy listening to his phone, and i pick up the familiar voice of douglas. i ask if he saw the interview and he says he just arrived from adelaide and loves murray but didn't know he was in town. we have a lively discussion all the way to gosford about israel and ezekiel 37, 38. 

we both share our stories about travels through israel, the incredible cities of tel aviv and jerusalem. about the amazing beauty of the galilee and the remarkable transformation of the dessert in such a short time. it's the beginning of some sort of friendship, the guy is very intelligent, and some sort of christian minister. whatever he is he attempts to explain the concept of jesus on the cross and the implications of sin to me. i don't have the heart to tell him i don't believe in sin or satan but listen actively as i never quite understood the idea of 'dying for our sins' and to be honest still don't but i am closer to it, thanks to this gentleman on the train. 

when i leave at gosford i wonder if i just encountered some sort of angel like intelligence. i don't know, how else do you explain that sparkle in his eyes.

 the

violence

of

truth

in the tesla all is quiet as we weave the roads to get to the highway, it's a smooth elegant ride. the moonroof has stolen my heart, and i look out gazing at the skies, the huge raincloud forming over the horizons. we hit the highway and i see a lone white goat standing upon a huge rock face. i have no idea how he can get back as the face is sheer but by the time i ponder the goats dilemma we are in the city.

it's always fantastic to see dave, ryissa and wild child, these are my church friends, and all evening i feel weird. i feel like i am having an illicit relationship with another band. the damned.

and we watch tim rodgers doing iggy pop with the hard ons. when the damned appear it's mental. far too loud, slightly distorted. it gets louder. it gets more distorted. my head feels like it's going to explode.  my ears hurt, it's painful, an ordeal. i never should have come i think, i'm a church man, this london punk thing was great when i was young, but now i need to listen. i need subtlety, nuance and elegance not loudness and distortion. the vocals sound muffled. i can't recognise words or songs. as a band they are a strange group, each member completely different from one another. captain sensible is an idiot, swearing and carrying on, we do get a little happy talk from him but mostly it's incomprehensible nonsense. david vanian is just a strange front man in a black suit and wide brimmed hat, he hardly speaks or ever shows his face. he walks from one side of the stage to the other, hangs in the shadows, hardly speaks to anyone else on stage. the keyboard man is a freak, he's the most animated as he attempts to pull in the audience. the songs whizz by at ten million miles an hour. 

when it's over it's a relief. 

in the old days before babel man could speak to all beasts, the communication was elegant and almost telepathic in nature. once has to also accept a lot of nuance is non verbal anyways but most beasts had a face and faces are easy to read in communications. 

over the decades i have found i am able o speak with large spiders. this is a strange thing indeed as i am very nervous around them however after the initial shock of discovering a huntsman or tarantula in my home i manage to calm down and work out a strategy on how to live with the beast.

the usual one is a pact.

the spider can stay as long as it either keeps out of my way or checks in with me to show where it may lurk so that there are no big surprises. 

this seems to work to some extent and over decades has proved successful.

about two months ago i was greeted by a huge tarantula in my bathroom at about two am after flicking on the light. it was motionless upon the wall. the size of it was frightening, it was straight out of the amazon, the size of my hand and very hairy and a deep brown colour. i was petrified at first but refused to give into the vacuum cleaner stratagem, or the plastic box and a vinyl record, run to the garden trick. i just didn't want this spider anywhere near me, no matter what protection stood between us. besides these types of spiders are very good for housecleaning.

so the pact was made. 

and it has lasted two months.  

the angry sea exonerates me as it spits me out, somewhat battered after a wild encounter with it's undercurrents, mammoth waves and chaotic nature. i stagger back towards the shore looking around me i realise i am the only single person who is in the surf. i knew i wouldn't catch any waves but i just needed to wake up and get wet.

later i bump into my friend monique who is off to meditate upon her next painting. i see her art around the town, it's really good, part fairy, nature and spirals, always white and snow like. we chat about the surf, she's already been in. monique swims every day, she's quite the dolphin and a much better swimmer than i. her friend peter is also an amazing swimmer, he's also my chiropractor. after my swims i always enjoy chatting with them and laughing, these mornings have been very nice lately, as we flirt from subject to subject. i like their politics, almost in alignment with my own. 

back home i watch douglas murrey on you tube, possibly the most intelligent political commentator at the moment. he gets about and few dare challenge his arguments for fear of being humiliated i guess. later some joe rogan, dan borngonnio and a documentary about aliens. between books i can't decide what to read next, choice paralysis as my piscean nature kicks in, it's a very tricky process. in the old days i would just grab something and start reading it, but now the whole thing causes me endless anxiety. i guess it's tied up with time and mortality. as i age i understand time is finite subjectively, therefore i want to saviour it and not waste so much of it reading second rate stuff, although nothing around me is really second rate. it's just priority.

later i do some boxing, half hour of intense movements and channelling anger. it's good but in the heat i find myself exhausted and covered in sweat. where's that ocean i think, ironically.

half way through the plant hunter and it's a great read so far as it follows harry compton's search for a mysterious icicle tree.

from the old kings road in chelsea  across half the world to deepest china. it has all the makings of a classic. a hapless hero with nothing to loose, on the run and chased by unscrupulous dealers. it has an ocean voyage, loads of information about rare plants and the opium wars. i'm about half way through and love it. it's a classic english adventure for adults. harry has just sealed a deal with a young widow and together they embark upon a voyage up the yangtze river, pursuing the plant that would transform both their lives. 

around noon i remember i have a free ticket to the mind body spirit festival so i jump into the hybrid and catch a train, (only it's a bus as there is track work) into darling harbour. the bus turns out to be non stop so it's actually faster. i read a big chunk of my new book which is rather good so far. 

darling harbour has changed quite a lot since last time i pottered about there, it's packed with tourists and people eating ice creams, there's a huge commotion near a big stage as i have to navigate the crowds, there's awful music and signs written in alien languages, and as i pass by i see it is some sort of festival celebrating serbian culture. a big stage suddenly fills up with people in traditional serbian outfits and some horrible music blasts out ruining the perfect summer day, as i quicken my pace and head to the conference centre.

inside mind body there is no spirit, it's just your corporate like, small business stuff catching up and cashing in with the public. crystals meet hyper-vibrational machines, nutrition, organic supplements and tarot cards. retreats for yoga, meditation and exotic spa weekends. i've only been there five minites and i'm bored. the only stall i find interesting is a feather stall where i manage to get some lovely feathers for my hair. i do chat to a few people, all are very complementary, 'you have a nice energy,' they all say. cynical me, just sees it as part of their sales pitch. i nibble on some very nice new zealand olives, some amazing cocoa beans and drink various herbals, it's all very civilised and dull. i sleip away and make for the japanese bookshop where at least my brain can awaken.  now, todays book hual is rather excellent, 'paul of dune' an in between novel that is to fill the 12 year gap between book one and two, i get some new don winslow crime novels, and a stanislaw lem collection of short stories. as i make my way to the cash register i pick up another book of short stories by leannora carrington. 

somewhere along the way someone asks me the date and as i tell them i remember today is my birthday, yep. all in all it's not a bad day i think as i wait for the bus home. 

if you think you know almost all there is to know about david bowie, this is a great book. it really surprised me with it's fresh new information about his connections to people and attached gossip. i read it in about two days, it's not difficult and leaves you hungering for more as you plough your way through davids relationships with the famous and infamous. there's some great stories in here,  and some really surprising events that were new to me. did you know it was bowie taught micheal jackson to moonwalk! it's so weird, yet useless information, the type i find fascinating and easy to store in my bowie trivia filled brain. anyways i really liked this one.  

dune part two. i'd have preferred the whole dune story in one massive 15 hour orgy of film but i understand it's a complex story and perhaps people need time to follow it and process the many aspects within it's narrative. 
it really is the best science fiction novel written, therefore there is no reason why it can't be one of the best films, and it certainly could be, given the next episodes match the first two. i enjoyed dune part two, it was perfect and spectacular. the sound was amazing, far improved than the first which was a little bombastic for my tastes. i particularly liked the lighting, although i wanted more from the sandworm scenes, a little more detail and there's one part where the sandworms are being ridden into battle by fremen and it does look kind of ridiculous. however that is a minor criticism. i love the way the harkonen scenes are so contrasty, at one point the film becomes black and white, and i love the fyad character played by austin butler (elvis) who is going to be the next big thing. the fight scene between him and paul is basically the template off how fight scenes like this need to be filmed, it's incredible. but the story itself is remarkable as it totally inverts the usual storyline of the hero, although it will be in the next film this becomes obvious, the seeds are sown in this one. 
at the conclusion when paul calls for 'holy war' (jihad) you can begin to see how the story will take a sharp turn. 
well worth seeing on a big screen, just for the soundtrack. i must admit i would have liked subtitles as i missed some of the dialogue being somewhat deaf but all in all, fantastic stuff. 

zone of interest

by

the deep fix

there's a chronic rift

a schism

it's not quite a hole

or a void unfilled

or any other ism

welcome friend

enemy

you are no guest

don't come in

to the zone of interest.

bones turns to dust

it's the season in hell

not quite winter

but you can't tell 

in the image of man

come on in

unfamiliar stranger

but do not rest

when you find yourself in

this zone of interest

strange dream. 

it's london, i'm getting a lift with an old friend martin, we are going to a music event but first he has to go off to a doctors. we are driving in a beaten up old van, which rolls up into a driveway, one story clinic into which martin disappears. later we get to the event, out friends are there, everyone preparing for the competition. we have been told to bring our own lunch, everything is packed away into a big cupboard. the event finishes, i somehow get locked in the room and miss my spot but later everyone returns, we begin to pack up. i have not eaten and go looking for my lunch. it's gone but a couple of non english girls point me towards a high cupboard filled with chocolate. the girls are laughing as i say i can't eat it and they grab it themselves. eventually i discover my lunch has been stolen. then the girls follow me around and we return to the area martin is. martin flirts with one of the girls, as we prepare to leave. they follow us out to the van, we say goodbye. martin drops me off outside my place. i enter and fall asleep. i awake in the night to hear heavy rainfall. the phone rings, a mysterious voice tells me he likes my music and wants to release a few albums with me, he asks me to send him some stuff. he's quite a big, well known dude but is in a rush so when i ask him what address he can;t make up his mind. while he keeps me on the line i hear a crash from the lounge, it's huge followed by a gush of water. i have to wait for the address and then hang up, run down the steps to see a hole in my roof, water everywhere. i'm puzzled as there used to be a huge white fluffy rug there but it's missing instead a spray of shattered glass and my fave bowie picture ripped and partly soaking wet. half is still in the frame. i follow the glass into another room where another rug is missing and the room trashed. i run out the door feeling confused and angry. 

i wake up, it's about 30 mins before dawn. everything is where it should be. i feel stupid checking but the dream was so real and vivid, so detailed i carried it with me into my waking state.

bad news piles up upon bad news, like a pile up car crash on the motorway, in the rain, my teeth are smashed in, i'd like to say i got in a bar fight defending the honour of some girl who was being harassed by a radical band of extreme feminists or chinese agents of the cpp, but the truth is they were knocked out by a hospital camera that was halfway down my neck spying upon my heart which was failing it's duty to dance to the rhythm of life. anyways,  i have a row of missing teeth on my lower jaw. 

i returned to the dental clinic within the hospital yesterday for an investigative look at what kind of repair they would offer me, and the sad news is dentures. the kind your granny puts in a fizzy glass when she goes to bed. it's depressing.

anyways i looked into alternatives and the big one out there are implants but apparently you need a good bone within the gum to screw them into, and i have receding gums so that's me fucked. the next big challenge is in order to have the implants they will have to put cow bone into my jaw to act as a platform.  all this would cost around $50-$60 grand. that's basically my super which can be used for medical emergencies.

when i look back upon things i wish i had listened to all those ex girlfriends who warned me to stop smoking weed because of the chocolate i was scoffing down after in lieu of a nice carrot stick,  or the luxurious ice cream i gorged upon in my munchie fever instead of a nice green juice or some steamed vegetables.  ah well as soon as i fix that time machine...

decline in health is inevitable as i age, my friends age as well and we are all suffering form some ailment or the other. i gotta get thing in perspective here, i have my heart working and although it's taken a few blows and probably not quite as sharp as it could be my mind and brain are reasonable so together with my vital organs i guess i am lucky. i seem to recall a life when i was confined to some sort of iron lung, the morphine just outta reach...

i figure as soon as i start loosing my marbles and can't read a book or listen to an audio book i'm cashing in my chips. i don't wanna hang around in a badly designed body, if i were a dalek in pure form i could see the sense in encasing oneself in a metal type of robotic like shell. i must admit they could have used a better designer. i guess modern examples would be yer typical android shape. i don't know if i would make a good android, and then there's a whole bunch of new challenges like computer viruses, rust type illness. i mean an android has to look after itself just like a human. perhaps the only solution we have is to download consciousness into a computer simulation, but then one could argue that's exactly what we are. five to one baby, one in five. no one here get's out...

gotta keep laughing at it all. really what else is there to do, laughter is the best medicine.

down the street at the beach, heavy rainfall yet people surf, i watch the waves, the ocean is contemplative today as it's dark surface moves in gentle rhythm and harmony, despite the atrocious weather. i wander to the little cafe, where i meet with the dolphin people. we discuss many things, from artificial intelligence to colloidal silver to the joys of weed. it's short conversation as everyone had health appointments but it was quality. now it really is back to mission control to gather my thoughts as i walk into hospital yet again, this time the dental clinic. a nightmare indeed, i hope they give me loads of drugs.

lazy sunday, i'm up early wondering what to do with my day off, it's nice outside and i'm pulled in many directions, mostly pretty mundane and unexciting, i could do my washing, tidy the garden up, catch a train to the japanese bookshop, go hunting second hand shops for rare science fiction books, i could get stoned and turn up simple mind's 'reel to reel' while i write more bullshit or i could bake a cake. all these weird ideas float through my mind with a sort of non enthusiasm you find in these post jab years, i don't know it's a sunday.

then agent wilde rings to ask if i am not doing anything would i like to go to newcastle, to see sk play in a matinee performance at 1500. well i didn't have to think to hard, the muscle memory kicks into action and i almost say 'yes' before she has finished asking. i suggest i catch a train and meet her at newcastle but she invites me for a road trip with ryissa and offers to pick me up. this means i can smoke a spliff, have a drink and relax without the stress of trains, getting home and police intervention.

as we drive down the freeway in a lovely big sofa car, we chat about stuff, and  it's mostly hilarious. two things stand out. one is ryissa is a very incredible mimic, she impersonated all the characters from 'the league of gentlemen' with perfect accent and authentic accents. hearing her i was immediately cast back to the show, which we both agreed was the darkest comedy ever made. a blend of horror and comedy, often one was the same as the other, and you as a viewer were left shocked at the bizarre nature of what you were watching. 

the other thing was agent wilde finally giving me an answer to a question i had been asking for 30 years. in the uk when i was living at home with my parents we watched a documentary called QED and the initials stood for something latin that when translated meant, 'question everything...' but i could never recall what the d stood for.
agent wilde said in conversation always remember qed, question everything done!'
i was so taken aback by this missing jigsaw piece, the final one after such a long time, i was almost shocked. the girls thought this was funny but i couldn't begin to express just how much that meant to me. it's something that has puzzled me for so long and numerous attempts to uncover it ended in failure. 

it was a lovely journey to newcastle and great to spend time with such special people. i don't know many people but it was really lovely to feel like i had friends, real friends. thank you to both of them.

i arrived in newcastle feeling happy, it was refreshing for a change, this horrid cloud of bleakness had lifted and newcastle looked very interesting, new development and buildings, lost of cool people everywhere. the venue was in an industrial area, very nice place, lots of space, a distillery where they made gin. 

we met with sk and rachel who as usual were welcoming and busy doing their things, setting up and soundchecks. sk offered me his fave strain of weed, something called silver woman er it could be silver witch or silver something, i know it's not silver wizard. however it was recommended by a man who i imagine knows his weed. and let me just say here and now...sk has given me so much in my life. i know it's a clique and boring but soundtrack to my life, an appreciation of  words in songs, myths, the amazing music, the art, the exposure to him as a human and not rock god and the all round general bohemian wake he leaves as he creates his art. i even said to the girls on the way up he has a quantum mind, and i think he is from the future but whatever he is, he has given me heaps of knowledge experience wisdom and joy since i was about 15 years old so i am incredibly grateful. but silver witch, wow, it was not only a great flavour it was beautiful to smoke. now i am not an expert, i usually just smoke what ever i have as long as it's natural and grown wild, but i'm now a convert. 

the gig itself was fantastic, now i have heard all these songs before but it does feel like the first time hearing them played again, the sound today happened to be perfect, i could actually hear all the bass notes which was new as i enjoyed following them along, and his vocals were pure, clean and very strong sounding. the whole sound was crisp and clear, i was very impressed although sk said later from where he stood it didn't sound good. his stories between songs, again, i have heard them but they were hilarious and i was amazed at how much my memory fails me. sk puts on a show, gives 100% and i have to say, it's never just a guy playing songs, it's a mix of everything, and i came away thinking this experience is theatrical. everything about it, the linking of the narrative told a story, it had a beginning, middle and end' it was 'improvised in part' there was music, story, laughter and tears, it contained elements of pathos and despite the tragic elements it made you laugh and filled you with a sense of joy that from out of all that experience was forged a fantastic human being who not only reached the potential of a picassio has a lot more to offer his audience down the time line. (he is from the future)

it was also interesting to watch how he won the crowd over, they were slightly apathetic at first but he engaged them and drew them in and they responded very well. i guess thats another art form in itself.

i dunno, i'm getting old, my health is beginning to decline and i may die at any point in time, but i have to say i have had some interesting and beautiful experiences, seeing sk play in a band or alone, listening and learning, being part of a stange group of individuals who all orbit around him, this has given me a lot of joy. i don't normally like being part of anything, any clique, group, gang, thing. but this small group always makes me happy and i genuinely care deeply for all of them, it's strange for me, i'm slow to know, slow to warm to people and yet i deeply care for the church family.

during the show i caught up with dave and his lovely wife, we had a chat about the damned gig coming up, and it was great to see him again, unfortunately they disappeared after the show so i never got to say bye.

later was beautiful, the sun drenched street of a funky newcastle suburb, with it's outdoor food, cafes and kooky shops looked a lot like a side street of glebe, i really liked the vibe of the city despite only being there three times before. i gotta say we had a lovely evening. 

driving home was again a great journey, we all agreed the sound was crisp and clean and the gig was a success. apparently it was quite spontaneous and arisen only a week or so before hand so there was some uncertainty about numbers. it seemed pretty packed in there, but it was a spacious venue, high ceilings, warehouse- like so it might have appeared somewhat vacant but this was deceptive, all the seats were taken up and the audience response was loud and appreciative. 

these are our twilight years, i don't mind them if i can occasionally have days like this. who knows what's going to happen anymore, i just would like to die smiling, knowing i had met one of my heroes and it was a good trip, all that 'never meet your heroes' stuff i believed turned out to be false. you should meet your heroes because in some strange way you also get to meet yourself or perhaps what you aspire to be like.

on the way home the big bright moon follows us, and we speak about where we saw ourselves when we were younger, ryissa says she thought she would be independant, travelling and free but then she met her partner for 24 years. 

me, i thought i would be living in burma, sri lanka, bali, or some exotic island writing novels, getting stoned and married to some olive skinned native who cooked nice fish dinners and offered me the occasional coconut. instead i ended up looking after all these people with strange behaviours and abilities and came to understand everyone is disabled in some way, some people just are better at covering it up than others.

'if you want to make god laugh, tell him your plans,' they say.

and over my shoulder gods always laughing. that's why i like him so much.

it was a great day.

thank you to everyone. 

 

the sad thing about me is i will not surrender to something i cannot respect, understand or love. it's why i never took the knee to the black lives matter fiasco, not because they are a corrupt neo marxist ideology disguised as some sort of charitable empathetic organisation but because all lives matter.  i just happened to know they had hidden agendas.

i don't support the feminist movement, especially when clementine ford is looked up to as an ambassador of it, she may be the abc darling and spokeswoman of the left but she is a moron filled with hate towards jewish women and all males, except her son who you have to feel sorry for. being against marriage does not make you a feminist clemy, let me tell you there are plenty of men who are against it as they end up giving everything away in divorce, it doesn't work the other way around. but that's not the reason i dislike feminism in it's contemporary incarnation, it's because it's current figureheads are more masculine than most men. they are aggressive, angry, hostile and reject all feminine qualities.  

i don't support extremists of all denominations, disguises or rebranding if it is based upon hate or coercion. how fashionable it is to bend the knee at one point was indicated by all the dumb stickers on facebook, same as those stupid vaccinations which people were forced to take or shamed into taking them. shamed by virtue signalling idiots who follow crowds like the zombies they are. 

same with all these woke things, fuck off you morons. stop telling me how i should speak and think. go read 1984 and then read animal farm and perhaps we can have a conversation, but until then leave me alone.

no unfortunately i stand up straight for my own beliefs and i don't shove them down peoples necks like my opponents and adversary's. believe whatever you want, but leave me alone. it really is simple, the moment you start telling me what i need to do or whom i need to follow is the moment you loose me. 

unfortunately i have a free mind, an an individuality that will not bend. i tried it when i was a kid wanting acceptance, it doesn't work. at the end of the day i can only be who i am.

so, if you don't like it fuck off. i really don't care. i used to but these days i rather be alone than surrounded by idiots, zombies and the woke, who are really just asleep but dreaming they are awakened. 

 

england is finished, i've been watching it's decline over the decades and now i can report, it is finished, fallen, taken over by the insane, marxist, islamo-facsist, green left ideologies that infect it's population. 
the scenes from london yesterday prove that the govt. cannot function out of fear. it is the end and because they have been so slow to acknowledge the threat they will fall further unless something radical is done. but who is brave enough to take on the enemies of 'reasonability.' 
certainly not labour which is riddled with neo socialist facsist nut jobs, or the conservative party who are basically globalist appeasers who don't seem to demonstrate any difference between their political opponents.  

the british institutions are infected with this sickness as well, and about 40% of the public. it was only a matter of time. history is a pattern, it may not repeat itself exactly but it does reoccur. every generation faces the same challenge, no matter how tolerant you are, how much do you tolerate intolerance, how much does a value system that offers freedom compromise itself to one that does not?

the answer has been slapping us in the face for years. i saw it early and escaped it, but it's hot on my heels, snapping at my feet. it's only a matter of time. 

i finished reading 'the shards' and am still a little uncertain how i feel about the ending. it was an excellent read however, i really enjoyed it despite the uncomfortable gay sex scenes i thought it was brilliantly written and constructed. the setting was la in the 80's and the book had a soundtrack written into it which i appreciate o  number of levels. the images evoked were the uber privileged rich white kids attending a high end college all caught up in the wake of a new arrival who may or may not be a serial killer. 

the conclusion seemed a bit hasty, all points converging to a confrontation between the protagonist and the adversary. the fact brett himself is the main protagonist and writes himself into what could be perceived as a true story about his youth just before he completed 'rules of attraction' gives us a meta fiction that sucks us inside that ambiguous liminal space where we can't really know if what we are reading is autobiographical or not. i liked all the plot devices but the ending is unresolved within me, i like it but it feels unfinished. however in some ways it's the perfect ending.