it was tricky in parts (the ready player one parts) but the semantic (julian janyes) parts were excellent. i managed to get hold of the 30th anniversary edition with extra content, and although i enjoyed the ideas the actual narrative was somewhat old terrain. i should have read it 30 years ago. he's not an easy writer to read, massive technology info dumps and geek like dives into tangents that may lead nowwhere but there were tangents i enjoyed here. the deuteronomists, the tower of babel, the language of binary codings, semiotics, and virus to control minds, the sumerian gods and goddesses. all excellent stuff but wow, i am exhausted from this one. 

my dad died two years ago today. it's weird as out of all the people i thought would leave me a sign he would be the one, he was so into ghosts and all that jazz. two years onwards i feel the loss, it's worse these days since when i first found out he had transitioned, he's left a void in my own little world because we enjoyed our conversations and shared a shock at the state humanity had found itself in. he would have been depressed and saddened. anyways it's made me sad he's not here to call or speak to. then again no one really is. i seem to be the last man standing these days.

it rained all day yesterday and i stayed home, just pottering around, my neck seemed to stiffen up and now i'm in considerable pain.  hot cold compress, a large warm scarf, painkillers, weed, i am in terrible pain despite my high threshold. captain pete my friend did some work on me, he is a chiropractor and knew the condition i was suffering from. it helped, as did the anti inflammatory medication my other friend gave me, so i could at least get through the day. the pain was unbearable and agonizing but for a short while it lifted and at least i could sleep a few hours straight through. 

i managed to see a few people on sunday for breakfast which was nice but very painful and at midday just collapsed in front of the tv. i made the mistake of watching the new series 'the exorcist' which lacks the gravity of the film. however the book is exceptional.

 

a local drama - young girl, 20 years old found dead in the river that runs at the end of my street. it's very sad, she had been walking home from the pub. it's effected a lot of people i know who knew her, it's hard for the community. the police are useless, really incompetent like most police these days. they have put it down to drink and falling over into the river, but she was an excellent swimmer and very bright, bright enough not to drink much. we suspect there is more to the whole thing but it appears like the police are not pursuing 'foul play.'

three days later a friend waked past the spot she drowned, the tide was out and they found her mobile phone. the police had searched the area for a phone and other clues but at high tide, so they missed the phone. they also informed the girls mum by walking up to her and saying callously, 'your daughter is deceased.' 

this young kid had everything to live for, she was joining the navy, had family and friends that adored her and a bright future. when i met some friends this morning they were all watching the sunrise, and asked how i was.

i'm always honest when people ask me these questions and this morning i was feeling the overwhelming darkness and burden of the world. humanity and people in general had disappointed me, and on a global level i could feel the awful friction and fallout our stupid leaders were driving us towards. peter and monique said, light always follows darkness, it's just everything being exposed for what it is, a revelation. i agree, but it's hard to see, i rather just watch the sunrise.

i did pop into the mind body spirit festival at the weekend, free ticket, not much on and i could feel this strange energy pulling me there despite my usual indifference at such a bland event. i needed to get out so it was easy for me to do so. the train ride in was super fast, are trains getting faster these days, that metro service is great but even the old central coast line seemed to be travelling at warp speed. maybe it was the fact i was engrossed in my book for most of the ride.

i must confess i find the whole thing very cynical and dumb, stupid stalls selling stupid products fronted by perspex models and plastique people, artificial bodies and empty minds, not much spirit at all, that's been sucked out from the corporate influence. for starters there's to many products that are technological, there's to many derivatives, it's highly packaged and plastic heavy, the books are all safe generic new age bullshit and the food is just expensive labelling with some kinda genuine amazonian cocoa, turmeric or ethno diverse sham. it actually made me physically feel ill, wandering through the tarot readers, palm readers and female centric healers. you could imagine they are all champagne sipping socialists dressed up in their culturally appropriate designs and pursuing their art in babylon, it's almost pathetic but i trawl through the isles grabbing a few free samples of nutrition as i have not eaten all day except for some smoked almonds and coffee. there's nothing here for me, until i come to an empty stand where a man is selling...tuning folks. 

now this is technology free, it's ancient technology, my kinda tech. finally i have an engaging conversation and trail a number of forks. now this is good stuff, we are taking resonance, my kind of frequency. i pick up a very blue fork, it's attuned to me imediately and when i ping it, wow, this sound is beautiful. this is me, a kinda calm and peace depends, a feeling of home. this was the pull that drew me here today, i could feel it this morning. it's the last one, it's sat there all week and no body even picked it up, the guy says it's the fork people seem to avoid and said it was strange i liked it so much. it's bass heavy, low frequency, i can feel it in my bones. maybe that's why people don't like it, it's almost sub sonic. it's the last one and it's mine. 

111kh all the way home.

over the last few days i have been experimenting with dimethylsulfoxide aka dmso, which is quite an impressive compound. used in conjunction with pure h2o and coliodal ag and mostly used topically, this is some serious stuff. again like most incredible things it comes from trees, pine trees or birches, it's a carrier as well as a curative. it's also has some interesting dispositions in that it hungers for water and it travels where it needs to go. as a carrier it absorbs whatever it is in proximity off so when using one needs to be clean and free from any toxins. and like most medicines strict observance to quantities are priority, although you cannot overdose it is quite a scientific procedure to prepare it. measurements are based around tablespoons and dilution ratios which is about as complex as i can handle these days. 

it's not something to play with, and if you are going to explore i'd recommend reading herb richards book on the subject first.

i read douglas murrey won his court case against the guardian and i'm happy for him, i never read the guardian, most of it's main features are basic propaganda and lies, their journalistic standards are low grade post graduate activists who lie, they succumb to the dei fallacy that quotas equal quality and they are ideologically driven by the woke agenda. i stopped reading the paper at age 15 when the sara tindsdale saga occurred and those arbiters of moral judgements threw her to the wolves. ever since then i knew what the guardian was and i would never consider it a legit newspaper. i'm constantly amazed at the ignorance of its readers, the way they dumb down everything becuase they let the guardian do their thinking for them. it's stupidity of the highest order. the problem is those readers are so brainwashed they cannot change their mind, even in light of facts. they are zombies, chanting dumb slogans as they walk over a cliff and drag everyone else over with them.

lately i have been watching the left wing burn teslas, they hate him for a number of reasons, he was a leftie and they feel he has betrayed their side by advocating for trump. they hate him because he no longer thinks like they do or follows their insane agenda of globalism. they hate him because he is very successful and he's only doing with doge what obama promised but never delivered. the issue is when obama said it they were clapping, now musk is doing it they are burning his cars. it's like a bad joke. the punchline is the utter destruction of the west and freedom we should value. it's been on the cards for 40 years, i saw it in 1988 and now it's festering in a violence and anger, a spoilt brat throwing a tantrum, all because the us population didn't vote for their woman. they were fed up with corruption, stupidity and a being ruled by a cabal of corrupt nutjobs. thankfully the very 'outsider' they all hate was not a politician but a businessman and although they tried to kill him he decided to lead. it's not really about making america great again, it's just about being sensible again.

i must admit i love the way the europian leaders all hate him, they loathe what he is doing, making them accountable. he's a radical maverick, just like the new argentinan  pm he's doing the opposite of what successive governments have been doing and finally the public are benefiting. 

thomas dolby, always intrinsically linked to my old friend dr. crack who flew back from singapore just to drive me to see thomas preform his only sydney gig at the invitation of fairlight which held a competition to see which musician used the instrument in the most creative way and overwhelmingly thomas won. dr. crack was in a flamboyant mood and was ordering up bottles of expensive champagne, he was jet lagged and wearing a bright red electric suit and looked like some kind of character from the 5th element, in his weird clothes and primary colours. at one point he fell of his chair and it took four people to get him to his feet, all while thomas dolby played on, in the middle of 'i live in a suitcase' i think. anyways, dr. crack enjoyed himself and somehow we returned home safe and sound.

sometimes i read nick caves red hand files, they are sent directly into my e mail folder and occasionally if i like the question I read his answers. firstly it's very intimate, extremely authentic, nick cave writes with a humanity i can't see i have seen in any rock personality ever before. i imagine grief like his does that, it either steals your humanity or makes it. i like the diverse range of people that reach out too him with their questions, often very personal, it's sometimes like an agony aunt but with a profound moving energy, not fickle or trivial. i've come to love nick cave through his writing, that transformation from dark lord to light source is remarkable, and i respect him immensely. i can't say i have always been a fan, my first introduction to cave was when i worked for the dept. of health in london and a co worker from melbourne played me  the birthday party, not my cup of tea at all. years later two seperate girls i was involved with played me. 'let love in,' 'boatman's call' and 'no more shall we part.' i loved those albums, and quickly developed an appreciation especially after seeing 'the bad seeds' live over a number of years. so there's the music and there's the man, it's hard not to respect both.

this morning i eat my new breakfast, a mixture of cabbage and weird plant substances, and coffee to wash it down with. jake joins me as we head down to the beach for a surf, although jake likes a run. i assess the wave front, it's messy but there are waves. the water is very warm, it's a perfect morning, golden sands and clear blue skies. i swim out to the back, waves break in chaos and none seem strong enough so i surrender to the play and just splash about.

then out of the blue a big waves comes, i take a stance and ride it back towards the shore. perfect. as i wade out a woman passes me by, she says, 'you like like neptune riding that wave, you just need a spear thing.'
'trident,' i reply.
'yes, that the word trident.'
'i have something better,' i raise up my fin.

back at the cafe, rob tells me a story about some junkie that stole his tools and how he found them at his friends, a sophisticated fence's warehouse. it's a funny story, something from a guy richie movie.

we drive over to tash's house for pancakes. on the way home we drop my suit off at the dry cleaners, i pick up some milk.

back at 13 00 in time to cool off, do a bit of reading.

 

sleeplessness, insidious and dangerous, nights dragging down the days, and each minute lasts an eternity. i was twisting and turning, my thoughts were passing and reoccurring, just like a minor key that brings you back to me, and it's sad and sometimes lonely.

and i listen to a radio, a podcast from long ago, it all seems so very old and also, very slow. i just can't close my eyes. the shadows and the silhouettes, the shapes that dance like marionettes, what is real and what is not, the endless spin of discomforting endless restlessness. breathing in and breathing out, i just can't turn off my mind, it's like a star that shines to bright, each photon burns up the light and leaves me hanging every night in sleeplessness.

thoughts projected ebb and flow, etherial and mysterious, not quite tangible, all my dreams are up in smoke, or were they vaporised by the attension focused from a mind that cannot stop, it just turns and burns every fleeting image it tries to hold, just let it go and go to sleep. 

all you have to do, is fall. that's all.

all you have to do is fall, that is all.

all you have to do 

is fall asleep

fall

and

sleep  

so now trump derangement syndrome is in full swing again, all the usual suspects, pop stars, actors, minor celebrities, influences and the influenced are out going on and on about fascism, war, bulling and various other accusations that validate their perspective. all founded upon lies. 

not one of the brain dead zombies understood what went on in the white house with zelensky, because they watched a 3 minute grab that was on television or you tube. very few actually saw the whole thing, and few didn't know what happened just before the meeting, once again showing how easily manipulated they are and how much they invest in the herd mentality. it's not just do what your told, it's think what your told. 

it's my birthday, very weird to be 63 years old and feel the wear and tear upon my body so acutely, despite looking better than i have in decades, the weight shifting, my muscles developing a tone, my strength increased by a noticeable difference, yet my internal body is in decline and the organs are all bringing a form of entropy.

a side effect of this is a strange narcoleptic weariness that engulfs me, sleep like a siren lures me into it's soft arms, from sleep to sleep, dream to dream, nightmare to nightmare, sleep to waking state i can't help feel but is a dream or nightmare itself. it's a malaise from which i cannot shake myself. energy depleted, the weight upon me feels overwhelming and i am not sure why it should be so. sometimes i feel the only intervention is a pact, my inner goth metamorphosed to an inner gothe. in my strange phase i keep looking over my shoulder for a stray poodle who happens to follow me home.

i made a mistake yesterday, spontaneously picking up the new cruel sea album, a band i like cos even though they were a pub band they had a certain sound, a raw funk backed with a hammond driving force, but the new album just feels flat and i'm disappointed. it's nice and easy, really pleasing for a road trip to the wine districts of the hunter valley but as far as edge, it's been curved off and blunted. it's more country than surf, more listener friendly than menace, and these guys feel like they are just dealing it in for middle of the road radio fm. the instrumentals are great but still nothing to ye olde cruel sea when they just pumped along with the surf and spray. tex feels like he's mellowed out into some sort of grandpa type rocking chair nashville skyline grandpa. 

i dunno, i thought it would be better, i didn't know anything about it and got carried away by that consumer enthusiasm that takes hold when you should know better. 

anyways it was a mistake, and i will learn from it. i'm kinda over slide guitars.

strange surf the last few days, lots of chop and seaweed, beaches packed with lebanese tattoo boys, parading around with loud voices and in packs of ten, they all seem to drive the same cars and listen to the same music, doof doof doof, i dunno i hate terrible beach at the weekends, outside the crown some awful guitar player strums away singing middle of the road classics no one really wants to hear unless your tanked up on larger or indifferent to ambience. pale skinned real estate agents on their days off, flirting with the office girls, very high heels and skimpy bright summer designer dresses and the glint of gold around their necks and in their eyes, i often wonder as I watch their men close in upon them, who really is the prey. i guess it's really win win in that type of situation, lust distorts love doesn't it? hey, i know, i'm an expert. 

as wander around terrible the terrible seaside market is being taken down, it amazes me that for 10 years the same stalls have been selling the same goods, it never changes, all useless typical seaside junk, homemade oils, soap and dreamcatchers, a few pet stalls and some cheap cosmetic jewellery made from shells. the place teams with kids, all running around screaming loudly as the parents have et them off the reign. it's amazing how many people are talking on their phones, loudly, indifferent to any kind of personal space boundaries, i pick up on people broadcasting to the world about their husbands, boyfriends, children, intimate knowledge now public. all in all, it's just a irritating hum of humanity doing human things, whereas all i want to do is find a quiet spot to read my book. i've eliminated everywhere except the lord ashley lounge my winter office, perched up overlooking the beach. 

up here a private function means it's not open to the public so i end up driving home reminding myself never visit terrible during the weekend. no locals do.

this is a very interesting discussion between two israeli commentators about the situation is gaza, and covers some stuff you may not even have ever heard about. it's not easy to choose ruth's perspective or marks, however both are very relevant and nuanced. none of this would ever be reported or discussed in mainstream but it's accurate. i have to say personally, i always used to agree with marks perspective, but now I seem to share ruths.

just finished 'whalefall' by danial kruss and it was very good, a very simple story about survival but variation upon 'the martian' as it explores survival against all odds when a diver gets swallowed by a whale.

however unlike the martian which shows human ingenuity with science, whale fall shows something much more profound and intelligent. it's fantastic, simple to read, simple to understand but wow, it captures some very heavy themes and puts science down to one side, shows us a little biology while seeking the majestic beauty and power within nature and connections to family, dead and alive. it's a beautiful book.

 

suddenly i recall the events surrounding the focal family, it went unreported in western media as did the numerous murders and events that took place when the victims were jews. the fogal family. man, that was barbaric, and that's why israel knows exactly whet it is dealing with and the west has no idea. i was there, i saw what happened. nothing can prepare you for it, it's a horror beyond anything you can imagine because you rather believe humans are never that evil, but history teaches us, especially jews, history shows us exactly how depraved humans can be. mostly thinking they are good, moral, virtuous people, they present to the word a justification of their evil, and the world always claps their hands or denies the truth until it comes for them. and it will. 

it was a great few days hanging out with jake despite the rain, we binge watched our fave show, 'the walking dead' he's a new convert but get's the idea. that show throws up some very pertenent philosophical questions, people are stupid enough to just think its a zombie series. it's so much more than that, but it doesn't really pick up until midway through season 3.

we eat a few good meals, it's nice to have someone cook for, we drink good wine and have some good conversations.

at the back of my mind, there is only one sad thought, the bibas family. it didn't break me, as i know, but if it didn't break you then there's a problem. you see all the way through watching the walking dead i was telling jake how the real walking dead are the ideological psychopaths who want to turn you into them. the ones that cannot stand you having a different way of looking at the world, the meme infected green socialist islamo fascists, nazis that run the world. they are the enemies of freedom and they will kill you to make their point. they are the zombies, and we are the walking dead. the only point of the game now is not to be infected by their hate. aim for the head Jake. aim for the head.

in deep sleep i feel the grip upon my leg, pulling me down but i'm laying upon my stomach and although i immediately wake up i cannot move. the pull subsides but the grip becomes stronger. my instincts are good, and i'm alert to my situation but immobalised as i attempt to pull myself from the bed, even pull my leg away from the vice like grip. there's a sense of terror now, i can't even turn my face to look, it's still very dark but all normal reactions are frozen, except my thoughts. my thoughts begin to reorder themselves from terror to focus, it's all i have. there are several layers to my frozen state and i have to break through all of them, eventually i scream out quite loud. it's been a long time since i have screamed but it's loud and i find myself spinning around as if sound has broken the spell.

there is nothing there, in fact my leg is in a completely different position than i thought it was. it's 4am and i cannot return to sleep, i'm quite disturbed. when shayne comes to pick me up around 9am i am releived to see a friendly face. we head to 'lords of pour' at ettalong for our coffee, the horror fading away into a pleasant morning with a friend. shayne tells me about the time he saw talking heads in new zealand on the last gig of the stop making sense tour. perfect.

what is the now, the moment we can't actually live in as our sensory system takes 'time' to acknowledge the true now. what we live in, is actually our last memory. the now is the face of the explosion, the big bang as time explodes forwards. and what we incorrectly call 'now' is the point just behind it. 

if you want to really live in the now, then you have to time travel a fraction of a second into the future lest the now is just a relative term.

 

okay mission control is looking so good at the moment, it's taking form. i hardly go out these days, just happy and content being home, hanging out with jake and doing our thing. the plants are outside getting a soaking, inside they look semi tropical like the jungle encroaching into the lounge area, sometimes when i watch tv shows it's almost as though i'm outside. 

my new chesterfields give the place an elegant stately look, and the new workstation with large screen computers at least allow me a decent space to write. 

i've switched my small coffee table for a really large one, and created a few new areas where i can let my vines hang down. 

the dining room has a bare look now, clear seating and just a gothic candelabra on the table, no books, papers, CDs or clutter just my occasional red wine and a joint upon a dark balinese long wooden dining table. there's a deck of brand new sigil cards daemon sent me, simple but elegant, i like them as i work my way through them.

music is from the future, an artic band i'm following them, part science fiction and part classic. a beautiful ethos cruises through the vibe, some kind of spell from the future, where it's all gone wrong, travelling back to correct the faultline.

tomorrow i plan to do my floors, early morning shine and treatment. i've been meaning to do it for weeks but never found time. i planned to do it this morning but did my first aid certificate instead, always good to have it, never know when you need to jump into action. i've saved a few lives thanks to my confidence. i'm always good in emergencies. 

sunday i have to see shayne, and also pick up another lions mane grow bag. 

 

most of the time

closure. makes people sound like a room, people are not rooms they are labyrinths and mansions. the harder you try to escape the more we become lost within them. i don't believe in closure,  doors shut and open all the time, closure is just an aspect of a process, it's opening that we really have to do, only therapy won't go there directly, it goes to closure and often ends. with closure. preservation is a better way to describe what we attain to when we seek closure. finding the moments that we freeze frame in amber and reflect upon, carry into our futures and pass on to the next. i often think about my dad, a great man despite his faults, he was striving to be all things to all. he loved in that old clint eastwood way, by righting wrongs and choosing his causes well. he was a strange druid though, a man of mystery underneath all that 'chancy gardener' persona. 

 nevermind

most of my readers won't watch this fully, i know that. but fuck you. fuck you all! all you assholes who stand with these fucking death cults. the fucking red cross, the united nation, the charities and human rights people, the endless lies, the dumb academics and fucking outrageous re-writing of history, the pathological hatred of jews shines a light on you, not me. i've always said hate us all you want, do I give a fuck, just don't put us in concentration camps or degrade us anymore but even that you can't fucking do. I'm glad you hate me, i'm glad you want me dead, it just shows how right my side of the fence is.and you, you are a death cult. every fibre of your hypocritical mindset screams what an ugly fascist you actually are disguised under some word like humanitarian, human rights, equitable, fucking nonsense words that as she said, have totally lost their meaning.

in the great book 'dances wth wolves' there's a scene where the protagonist a disillusioned solider is taken by indians and initiated into their tribe. on his first hunt  he kills a buffalo and in his honour he is to ear the liver of the beast plucking it out of the freshly killed animal he holds it in his hands. hesitation amongst the savages. he processes he has upmost respect for the indians, he loves their freedom and culture, he loves their sacred visions and brotherhood and he feels close to them in spirit. so without further thought he plunges his face into the warm organ and takes a bite, in which he describes it as the most wonderful tasting thing that has ever passed between his lips.

most people these days are on a new fashionable diet called the carnivore diet, which basically allows you to only eat meat / fish and cheese. it's amazing how positive the results are, as bodies heal themselves and optimal weight is attained. i'm not certain, i think there's something to be said for balance, nutrition comes in many forms, colours and tastes, plus i like fruit which would be out of bounds. i believe in the idea everything for healing is within nature, even cancer, tumours and ms. god has provided us with everything, but we must be conscious. we must seek nutrition, taste and flavour are of little consequence. the best kind of diet is the one where food is close to the sun, the source. no processing. the kind where one bite and you feel it working.

if i follow a diet its just, eat good organic food, don't eat to much, be grateful for it and enjoy it.  

'almost like the blues' kinda sums it up for me. that sparse music and that piano towards the end, it's me right now thinking about everything, family, friends, my history and myself. the endless cycle of it all and the survival of a people against all the odds. the word biblical is useful here and now. it really is biblical as it's so overwhelming like a dark shadow risen from a fable, the hate, the overt violent intent and pathological need for people to express it in the most brutal ways, given they now have a green light to do so. it's always been there under the surface but now it's almost acceptable. now it's dinner party etiquette. it's fashion again.

I saw some people starving

There was murder, there was rape

Their villages were burning

They were trying to escape

I couldn't meet their glances

I was staring at my shoes

It was acid, it was tragic

It was almost like the blues

It was almost like the blues

I have to die a little

Between each murderous plot

And when I'm finished thinking

I have to die a lot

There's torture, and there's killing

And there's all my bad reviews

The war, the children missing, lord

It's almost like the blues

It's almost like the blues

Though I let my heart get frozen

To keep away the rot

My father says I'm chosen

My mother says I'm not

I listened to their story

Of the gypsies and the Jews

It was good, it wasn't boring

It was almost like the blues

It was almost like the blues

There is no God in heaven

There is no hell below

So says the great professor

Of all there is to know

But I've had the invitation

That a sinner can't refuse

It's almost like salvation

It's almost like the blues

It's almost like the blues

Almost like the blues

Almost like the blues

Almost like the blues