respite arrives at 1800 when the breeze begins to start, i open all the windows and create a wind tunnel through the house, both mum and myself bask in the comfort of cool fresh air. it's the small things that bring the most joy. 

my brother very kindly takes me to a massage service place he knows in crouch end, no, not that type but a professional joint with healthy looking massusses and as i await my swedish glamourous beauty with slight but firm hands i can feel the stabbing pain in my upper back. it fills me with panic as i will have to travel back with two heavy cases and there are awkward areas of navigation espcially on the tube. when my lady appears she is in the form of a latvian version of a sumo wrestler, what happened to my nordic viking princess?

i'm led into a nice room and left alone to take my place upon the table. when she begins i ask her to go hard and deep, show no mercy. she spends one whole hour going hard and deep and shows no mercy, she locates the knot in my back and untangles it, she is focused upon the task and her hands work wonders. an hour later i float out. she did mention i will need a few more sessions in australia to et my back unlocked completely but she has given me a reprive from the stabbing pain.

then martin takes me for a tarot reading. surprisingly i am told, i have had deep trauma, i will move house soon and unexpectadly, i will come into money, i may move interstate or overseas.
then she reads my palms and says i am surrounded by luck. 

all of this is news to me.

it's my final night in london, it's been nice, hanging out with mum, seeing my south coast friends and generally catching up on years of missing sleep. truth is, i miss home, i need to be back in my place, feeding the birds, fish nd water dragons. i heard it's been raing a lot in sydney, plus it's the middle of winter so i will need to buy wood but none the less, i am excited to return. plus i have a girl out there.

in the inferno of london, tempratures sizzle, records are broken but there is no respite outside of cold beer, air conditioning, off which there are very few places that seem to have this luxury due to council regulations on emmissions. the heat is overwhelming, my mothers apartment is sweltering and it appears the car is the coolest place to be. my brother has lent me his car and in the evenings i take mum out for shopping adventures, a few dinners and some juants around the local area. at the moment the sun sinks around 9pm so wer enjoy the twilight hours although it's still very hot. at night it's impossible to sleep as i'm covered in a layer of sweat and the atmosphere is overwhelming. it's hard to breath. i usually stay awake until 4am and as the faint dawn offers glimpses retire to bed, where i may sleep for 6 hours. 

i've been watching 'peeky blinders' which is better than i thought it would be, in fact it's excellent. much better than 'the soprano's.' the acting is sensational, the script amazing and the soundtrack full of surprises. but it is a great story and completely captivating, no wonder bowie loved it.

currently reading my first adrian tchaikovsky book, 'shround' which is science fiction and so far really good.

london is indeed an onion, it's layers are deep and it takes a considerable amount of research and walking skills to pentrate it. the mithras temple underneath the bloomberg building is at it's heart although i suspect it goes deeper. 
as you decend a time line shows you how london was overlaid with various structures and events, one covers the other. it's quite something. there is indeed a hidden esotericism. secret societies, hidden messages in sculptures and architectures, one could easily feel lost within a labyrinth or at the outskirts of a maze. there's a weird formality to it all as initiates pass through invisible gates and doors, and enter chambers unveiled and deeper knowldge revealed beyond ythe pagan heart and astrological centre. one can never be certain about how deep it goes but what is known is the deeper yo go the harder it is to return the same as when one went in. london is a city of mysteries, conspiracy and concealment. it's heirachy is almost inpenetrable which is why the keys to the city are needed. and also why only a handful have them.

on a lighter side i visit some of christopher wrens churches, st. pauls is the obvious one but st. mary le bow is the one which interests me most as it determined my birth as a cockney. those born within it's church bells are true londoners aka cockneys and i was well within it's circle. rebuilt after the great fire of london by wren it now stands magnificently as a testiment to his finest achievements. one has to acknowledge his genius when you stand inside and look upwards. it's as close to holy as a man could get in human endevours. 

on the darkside i also visited one of wrens students designs for churches nicholas hawksmoor whom one could say was not a christian at all, his designs were neo pagan and possibly satanic. paying special attension to the locations, one can see an obvious pattern.

if one includes the london eye into the pattern the structure takes on a more obvious meaning as the all seeing eye.

st. lukes in oldfield, st.george in bloomsbury, st.john in horsleydown, st.george in the east, st. annes limehouse, christchurch in spitalfields, st. pauls.

peter ackroyd's novel is well worth reading as is iaan sinclairs, lud heat

martin and i take ourselves out for a movie, it's been so long since i have visited a cimema it's quite the novilty, unfortunatly 'disclosure day' is the movie we chose and although i am a big science fiction fan this one is very flawed. let me point out the acting, directing and idea are very good but the script and general narrative are very weak.  sure, it's a good theme and quite topical, what would humanity do if the knowledge of alien visitation to earth was revealled. personally 'the man who fell to earth,' is much better and far more intelligent than spielbergs movie. the central theme is 'empathy' is a form of intelligence that only highly evolved species can use. yeah all well and good in theory, but humanity is also suffering from a form of suicidal empathy, which would have made an intersting counterpoint to the whole movie. aliens meet isis. 
the film is a kinda chase movie, along with the usual dips into convential religion faces extra terrestrial life philosophy, god created man in his highest image, but 'only upon earth' some smart nun responds. and the control of information versus freedom of information, let the public have the facts. 

meanwhile spielberg throws in his usual sentimental moments reducing an adulty experience into a childhood one. meh!

martin condfesses he didn't really understand it and even through i understood it, i wish i hadn't wasted my time.

the japanese dinner i had with martin was excellent, tofu noodles with vegtable. 

 i speak with meredith in adalaide, it's so nice to hear her voice which has two components, one being a non stop talking machine which basically will just speak about anything with intermitent laughter as it rambles onwards like a steam train going down hill at the listener tied to the track. the other part is a 'soft' voice whoch fortunatly is present most times we speak, it's possibly the most calming sound you can imagine. it's influence upon me is narcotic, i'm not sure if i have ever encountered anything like it, a whispering gentle sound with plenty of space between words where sounds manifest, dolphins, birds and random coded alphabets, some i understand and others i don't. it's as though i'm a wounded tiger in pain and distressed and as soon as i hear her voice i instantly calm and am enveloped by an ocean of tranquility and peace. 

my pain, at the moment is a back pain that has moved into my shoulder, it really is accute and feels akin to someone stabbing me in the back with a sharp but large blade. i have had to take painkillers to assist. i cannot rely upon merediths voice so i may have to buy some weed as im not sure i can stand it much longer, the pain is terrible and limits my movements.

when i do speak with meredith it is between long bouts of her sleeping as she is recovering from a chest infection, plus months of stress and trauma. i imagine she is exhuasted and i feel helpless being so far away. she sleeps, i sleep and maybe we can meet in our dreams. her sleep is ridiculous although when i was on anti histamines i also slept long hours, sleeping between sleeping but i must admit meredith has beaten records, sometimes she sleeps for 12 hours, wakes up to say hello and five mins later sleeps for another 12 hours, and this last period she has slept for 5 days like this.  

jake popped in today and we take mum to the big shop where she buys a potato in the jacket and meets some people from out of town. she's tired but does well walking a long distance. at home we all collapse, i sit by the window watching the evening sunlight dancing through the trees, the birds singing a summer song and i just feel everything, saturating me, intense vampric sensory inputs, the slightest noise, the most miniute sensation of wind upon my skin, the hyper sensual curve of a womans flesh, the artery that pulses upon her neck, slightly in sublime slow motion as it starts standing out, looking magnificent and powerful, all that blood and life in one throb. 

i do a bit of cooking for mum, but she hates my food just as much as i can't eat hers. she needs sugar, salt and a selection of poisons whereas i am attempting to be as clear of these things as possible. often i will make my own breakfasts and dinners, usually for breakfast greek yougurt with fruit and bran, the apples and berries are really good here in the uk. dinners usually consist of green lentils and veg, or sardines. i can't really eat anything mum makes. even her sandwiches are awful due to the processed bread everyone seems to eat. if i am out i try to find a bagel shop, cream cheese, smoked salmon and capers are my weakness but then very ocassionally when i feel like it i induldge myself in fish and chips. the ones i had with tez and jean were the best so far. strangely everyone seems to eat indian food here, i'm amazed at how it has become so popular, and normal. i don't mind it once in a blue moon but it appears everyone seems to eat it here. often i'm asked what i want for dinner and i say 'anything but indian' and find as i sit down to eat, it's indian food. weird man. it's not that i dislike it, it's that i cannot eat it every day. 

i travel by train down to worthing to meet my old friends tez and jean, it seems srange seeing them in 3d as we usually speak via skype messenger. it's a short but very nice few days, the weather seems to confine us to indoors but we have a couple of excursions, some great food and late night chats. my strange sleepy maliase seems t overwhelm me and i find myself having seistas and retiring early. tez says it's due to the fact i am at rest, my body is easing into holiday mode but i think it may be something else, some sort of weirdness. however i enjoy my sleep and it's the best ret i have had in months. it's hard to leave them, but i return to london. the train journey sees me staring out the window at south london, as we roll passed battersea powerstation and all the horrible buildings, the strange homes and streets and the city seems part victorian, part 70's and mostly brutal. dark grey clouds and sleet don't help.

the next day i take a trip into london, wander around soho my old huants and carnaby street where i worked as a kid, down into covent gardens, i find a bagel shop and get a really good one. in foyles i pick up a few books, i avoid the esoteric bookshops as i have no cash. the city is heaving with people, and in a shop i meet an interesting italian lady, she's really nice and we strike up a conversation about olive oil, and i tell her about my love for italy. on the way home i notice all these young girls and women, dressed up to the nines, all looking glamourous and a woman with pink fingerpolish explains me someone called harry styles is in town, hence the girls. i have no idea who he is but london looks quite the spot with all these girls out and about.

i made the mistake of buying another caitlin starling book and once again what started as a great novel became a bad one 2/3rds through. it's a shame as i would like to find a few female writers i like but it's just not happening. the novel has a great premise and begins in a monstic castle under seige, and they are running out of food. the three charachters are very interesting, all female. one a waif whom sctraches together a life in the carverns discoveres a mysterious precence under the foundations which offers her a terrible bargin. the other is knight, a warrior who devotes herself to her king until he is supplanted by the arrival of the saints. these saints bring what appears like salvation but it is also a debuched fall into savagery and illusion. and the last charachjeter is a witch who has managed to use her powers to create water fit for drinking but cannot quite work out how to create food. 
while the monastry seems to decend into madness and horror the three women challenge the arrival of the saints and expose their true nature. it's a great story but the last bits seem to just fail in the same way as her previous novel, 'the luminous dead' did.

seven days, the season changed, the heat of spring reverts to a winter cold summer with rain to match. i've scrapped together some clothes from what's left from my dad's wardrobe, a highly unfashionable man who went for the greys, navy blues and innocuious lower wavelegths. i'm grateful although i look like a man out of time. 

i've been pottering around, there's not much left for me to take home, martin and jake got in first but the single painting i want is still hanging there. i measure it up and discover it's to big for my suitcase. i'll have to have it shipped out when jake returns with his stuff that's going into storage.

i've really enjoyed seeing my aunt  and uncle sydney and yolande and their son mark and his family. marks wife is one of the worlds greatest cheifs, she is amazing and i love her food better than anyone elses. she's also got a brilliant sence of humour and knowledge, in fact they are a very intelligent couple.

sometimes i hardly sleep, just reading and watching stupid tv shows. i did see the short series 'half man' which i liked for the same reason i liked 'baby reindeer.'

i have finished 'sleeper beach'by nick harkaway which was fantastic. a really unique piece of story telling and a mix of hardboiled noir and science fiction. my single excursion into the city was pretty disasterous, i had a good look around forbidden planet and waterstones but only found the new 2 volumes of alister reynolds revelation space short stories and his halycon years novel in my fave format which i immediately purchased. but london was dirty, over crowded and tense, i just wanted to get back.

i was on a quest for a certain trophy, and after some nifty running around and scouting i found something suitable. i hope it will do as now there's only going forwards. 

long flight to the olde country, lots of negativity as part of me doesnt want to go, plus in a huge miscalculation and the pre flight choas of getting organised i made an error and arrived one day earlier for the flight. i statyed in an adjacent hotel and despite the cost it seemed more efficient than returning home and returning the following day. 
i arrived in london on the hottest day on record, it was hot and not an air con in sight. i took the train to my brothers and then later went to my mothers. and in the evening went to a bbq hosted by denni and mark, which was amazing. 
then i slept. it's been very difficult as i had not packed any clothing, so i borrowed a few items and have to make do. i think i'm exhuasted and just need loads of sleep. 

i still. can't sleep at all, the world seems to fall inwards as i expand outwards picking up the vibration of space time, surfing the eros fragments from the past, exploring possibilities in the future, knowing it pulls me apart in many ways, and yet pulls me together. only the essence once inhaled will determine the outcome. i'm like an alien hound on the trail of a buried bone, somewhere in the universe. the blows to the head, the breaks and aches, the constant turbulence of life and then in cruise control i manifest a history from 20 years ago. how does that work anyway?

these girls all seemed to have left me, and then when i have moved on they seem to return bearing gifts. promises of maybe? maybe in retrospect i wasn't such a bad partner, maybe there's part of me they actually liked after all despite their actions  i can't know anything due to the side effects of my brain and it's swiss cheese memory.

what i do know is that in a meeting at work i had to take control and challenge the idiotic women i have to work with who have terrorised a client to the point of depression and anxiety, for their own dumb power issues. there were tantrums, explosive outbursts, nasty comments and preposterous behaviours but afterwards my manager said i was magnificent. 

oh, and also i received a message from the dept. immigration offering me citizenship.

take my pond guy out for a coffee at my fave coffee place,  on the coast lulu's where i have been enjoying their special blend for 12 years. we swap a few war stories and it's nice to have some company. later when i return home the rain starts, it's relentless and cold, it's not my type of thing and although i want to return to bed and sleep i have to travel into the city. at least on the train i can make headway into nick parkway's sequel 'sleeper beach,' which i'm excited about.

in the city, i have a bite at the arthouse where i gaze upon my fave painting in the world. later i head to level one where i find a dark corner and sit reading. i have two hours before the waterboys come on stage. while stretching my legs i hear a noise behind me, the lift opening and out walks some people, a voice behind me yells, 'where the fuck is the bar?'

i recognize the voice and spin around. it's her, a blast from the past i rather avoid but i do the right thing and be socially conforming, we exchange small talk and i make my getaway.

as i have exited the bar looking for anonymity, i wander into the state theatre. figure i may as well watch the support band, an ellie hooper who was actually very good. she is an australian but her music is pure nashville, and what a voice.

the waterboys are on before i know it, smashing out song after song, it's breathtaking. i'm blown away, everyone is. 

pottering around the place yesterday i pop down the beach and although do not get wet, enjoy my morning coffee courtesy of an old friend who asks me why i look so tired. mmm, there's not an easy answer. lack of sleep i guess. then in the sun i absorb a healthy dose that warms my bones, although the shade this morning is very cold. on return home, a chat with that girl from adelaide who seems to just be able to talk non stop. it's lovely but wow, it's sometimes overwhelming as i'm a guy who enjoys my quiet time and often don't speak to anyone for days. i don't mind, although she spends most of her time in past relationships, reviewing and post deconstructing them, which is really fine, she has had a colourful past but it's obviously traumatized her, where it still is part of her present. i ponder this as she talks, wondering if one day i can get her to a place where the history of her trauma is at rest. for the moment i just listen. in the evening/ night things take a turn and we start to speak about the present, although she finds some forgotten communication between us from 15 years ago that makes us laugh, i can cope with that. it's hilarious, she is mostly hilarious and i know when she's not being dragged back to abusive relationships and experiences she is kinda irrepressible.

i read some more of titanium noir and marvel at harkaway's dexterity, but i cannot sleep. an insomnia type energy has taken hold of me, a vampiric spirit awakening so i read through till dawn, watch a tv show, make a drink and eat a very early breakfast. the sun coming up slow, the cold air bites my skin, the birds rejoice and call me towards them. there's a lot to do this morning, so many things to prepare for and my energy is low, my mind is somewhat clouded and my body feels heavy and sluggish. 

strange overcast morning, sunburst at noon soaring through clouds and grey zones, burn through confusion and anxiety, burn through lies and deception, burn through hate and war, burn through tension and constriction, burn through immaterial world, burn through material girl, set ablaze the illusion, set ablaze the delusion oh fiery angel of sol, with thy sword of revelation, cast out the enemy within and behold the beauty of truth.

my task is not to seek for love but to find the barriers inside myself that i have built against it.

i have a couple of days off to catch my breath, my time is spent doing chores and paying bills but it's all bearable as in-between i chat with meredith and listen to her stories, man, she can talk and she has stories. i guess we are good as weird people with a collection of weird stories. it's nice reconnecting, catching up and reviewing the time we spent together as well as all that happened in-between.

currently reading titanium noir by nick harkaway which is brilliantly written and i'm in awe and respect for such a command of style, english, humour and imagination. 

set in a time when humans with the big bucks can chemically expand their lives and abilities with T7 a gene therapy. only the elites have access and they are known as titans. so when one is found murdered the police call in cal sounder who is known for operating between humans and titans discreetly. cal is an old skull detective, he goes from the crime scene to witness, to suspect to various titans, as he investigates the strange death. harkaway paints a place and time that although is vastly different is a very familiar landscape, and the themes of inequity, injustice and transhumanism are very relatable.

i love this book, it's a mix between william gibson and pkd.

well life is kinda strange as yet another ex contacts me and initiates a resurrection. it had been 20 years since i had seen her last, as we were interstate and a massive act of god had intervened in our relationship. she had a brain injury and i had a brain injury at exactly the same time. we were in her place in adelaide, both shell shocked, stunned trauma patients wondering what the hell had happened. i was not allowed to fly so we were just trapped in her place, just dazed and confused. i was in some form of very deep trauma, and maybe shock, my memory had been wiped and she was exactly the same. we were like peas in a pod, having had the most phenomenal relationship and now we were two vegetables who had no idea what we were in. eventually after getting clearance i was able to fly out and into deep therapy with neurologists and councillors,' unable to work or do anything we both ended the relationship and attempted to get our lives on track, but at that crucial point ayahuscia arrived at my door and i attended my first ceremony, and was healed. my trajectory had changed radically and i was in a new life. it's 20 years ago. and this week out of the blue she wrote to me. it's blown my mind.  

as i set off to drive to the surf in glorious golden dawn light the clouds just appear in front of me and the sky goes dark and suddenly it's bucketing down, staring p the ocean and making it impossible for me to have my morning swim. i  spend a long time finding a park, the place is packed, when i do it's considerably remote meaning a walk through the rain, it's not my fave thing. the cafes are packed, my local is all seating outside so it's hopeless, eventually i grab a coffee on the run and disappear back home. as i get indoors the sun comes out. 

bowie live, great setlist and preformance 

dawn surf, water warm, waves perfecto, as they roll in from the beating heart of neptune old captain mission walks out into the solar pathway, there's a strange little pull as the current slips to the side but it's gentle enough for me to deal with, i submerge out there water washing over my head as i dive down. it's so clean you can see thousands of fish and thrusting forwards into the wave my body kicks into autopilot, the fin knows what to do. monique dives down and moves past me, she says some one saw a white pointer out by the boy and she goes to check it out, i find my spot, turn and wait.

after 40 mins there were three waves that were perfect for me to ride, the more force i used to push down the higher i lifted myself, it was pretty wild. they were fast and if i manoeuvred myself to their right i would catch them right until they ht the beach, like an overdrive. amazing.

last night I watched the moon over the water, high tide, this morning it's perfect conditions. and i move forwards  filled with gratitude and praise to jah, who has created all this beauty.

well from one health scare to another, from one dramatic tension to another, from one crisis to another and then salvation. it's all the same thing, the one electron theory. the get out of jail free card if you apply it, a little quantum physics goes a long way if you don't observe it or at least try to. as a student of all things strange and mystical and occult i was mentored by one individual who revolutionised the way i think. he died recently. a quantum physicist who was also a wizard. 

so there's that.

then there's this, a long chat with my uncle and aunt yesterday was productive and interesting, it was great to hear them and laugh. i put a few things in perspective. there's so much going on and then there's nothing but the void in which we exist, thinking it's all going on. it's just history, it's just existence getting to know itself, it's just random, it's chaos looking for order, it's the yin yang, it's the terrifying beauty of truth, it's the beautiful truth of terror. we are all dying while we live, we are all energy interacting with energy, we cannot end only change. that's the only truth that is consistent.

new phase on the horizon, i await this moment, it's slower, more joyous and fruitful. relationships must shift into this new area of thinking, i'm done with movements that don't move, conversations built upon fear and lies, people awakened who are asleep, it's all there in plain sight, the zombie apocalypse. plug into your news feed, absorb your truth, fill your heart with hate today, fill your mind with lies and agendas, and then create it. it's the same old story what came first? the idea or the act. can you really create something out of nothing. is nothing something?

ha! zen koans rule. awake sleeper. whack!

the surf this morning was spectacular, there were very few waves but the water was warm, so clear i could see the fish swimming, big fish and a lot of them.  i spent about forty minutes splashing about,  and further out sharks were sighted. it really was a fantastic morning, the sun dried me in about 10 mins and it was really hot for autumn. actually better than most summer days, i just hope it stays this warm. nights are different, much colder once the sun sets and a good reason for early nights.

my head injury seems to be much better today, yesterday was quite painful again and i had to take two painkillers which is very rare for me. i have to say they made a huge difference and after 20 mins of taking them the migraine- like throb that lingered all day disappeared. on top of that my heart today was beating strong and in time, for the first time in months i felt as if i were 100%.

 'it's to late, to be late again.' bowie, said. 

i recall seeing him at earls court in 78, a little kid in total awe, overwhelmed by the amount of people and the size of the place. my dad had got me the ticket through his friend, they had gone to a lot of trouble as the show was already sold out but dad knew what it meant to me, he pulled out all stops. i vaguely remember when he told me, i was jumping around the house smiling like an idiot.  at the show i was seated in a great spot but the audience was so large it was like being at a wembley final football match but all the pitch was covered in seated people facing a huge stage. 

the band came on and opened with warzawa which was mysterious and dramatic and then launched into heroes, david in that ridiculous sailors outfit, those big white stripped vertical lights came on and that was it. the next hours passed by so fast, it was hard to process as the atmosphere blended into the music and some sort of weird synthanesea overtook my brain input. the next thing i knew it was encores and like everyone there i made a lot of noise. the highlight was 'station to station' which is captured really well on 'welcome to the blackout' as was 'beauty and the beast.' in fact that is a great bootleg although now officially available, it was recorded over the few nights bowie played there and put together by tony visconti. 

anyways, thanks dad. i know you would have tried really hard to get me that ticket. i was 15 years old.

i think about that line, 'it's to late to be late again,' a lot. especially after dads death, because the implications are so much is left unsaid. and that's the saddest part of it all. the bit that lingers on and haunts you is all the words missed. anyways, i guess it comes down to our individual responsibility, my disappointment belongs to me, and it's to late.

i am good,  i seem to be a surviver of all things be it global or local, and my outlook is positive personally. a few weeks ago maybe a month i attempted to call my brother who lives in london, he is going through a change in career and life, and i had some critical health issues and needed to let someone know in case i never made it. as usual my brother never answered or returned the call until it was to late but it was good to chat with him last night. rather than go into details about my predicaments i kept it about him and what he plans to do in the close future. he wants to get out of the uk. he seems to think it's really fucked and he would not be wrong, something i have seen over several years and knew decades ago. there is very little doubt now unless something radically changes there will be civil war or global war, uk has now placed itself on an official war footing.  

i've had some time of from work and although these weeks have been quiet i have found myself thinking about my dad more than ever. and actually identified a few regrets. these do not weigh me down but fill me with a sort of sadness and subtle weight within, an introspective type of emotion where i feel i had so much unsaid. i guess i said it all the funeral but deep down he really needed to hear it in conversation, and that's one of the things i miss most about him, our chats. anyways, time's arrow travels in one direction and as a passenger the universe flows passed me, as today i feel still.

outside sun breaks through the front jungle, the pond rages and the birds sing. i hear the ocean calling me. neptune sings out, his siren daughters call. it's fresh clean and warmish, the waves break in perfect form, i cannot go far out or really be unwatched but i throw myself in and splash around, like a baptism ceremony, back in the ocean, my head bleeds out poisonous thoughts and fills with awe. all this stuff may be part of a situation and it may not be real at all but some parts are beautiful and some bits feel realer than others. 

unfortunately i cannot stay long, certain responsibilities pull me back into the illusionary world, and i have to embrace them with an open heart and mind.

still pondering the direction of my sequel, it's sort of complete but the ending is not quite powerful enough. it drifts into more my normal style of writing and narrative and gets quite metaphysical in conclusion but i am writing about child trafficking and pedophilia in contemporary times some 30 years after the antidote. so do i enter into a lovecraftian ending or keep it real. and then what's real anymore? 

this morning i woke up and pondered the question, at what point did it all break. there are a number of answers. the strangest is when bowie died. it does feel like he was holding the fabric of reality together, i don't quite know how that works or what it means, it cannot really be true although it feels true. then there's the hadron collider, which when i fist heard i found hard to accept but now see it as a real possibility. did it fabricate a new reality, a somewhat more absurd and chaotic one. i don't know but if you mess with the dna of the being somethings going to mutate. atoms spin by the hand of god, they collide by design not by science. unless of course it is all a simulation and the program is self destructing. will we build a new one, will we just download ourselves into it or just zero out like the tv set when it's switched off. i always said, trump heralded the post truth world, where nothing can be trusted, media, people, institutions. 

then finally i decide it's cosmic warfare. as i navigate the zombie apocalypse, the truth becomes clearer for me. i'm alive, only just but I have an advantage, i know the date of my death. ayahuscia showed me the way, sometimes i just have to remember.

someone i love said to me, 'i don't believe in accumulating material things anymore.'

but that's just a half truth, it's not the material things that count as meaningful or meaningless, it's the attachment to them. there is only one way out of here. let it go.

a few tests this morning with the technicians, they wire me up and take readings, 'bippitty boppity bip' a few injections, strangely i am immune to these, maybe as i have desensitised to them over the years. the lady jabbing me is from the uk and we chat about the old country, music in the 80's and the cost of living in australia. she tells me the mistake the chemist made was very serious and could have killed me. she says i should take it as high as possible but i'm not wired that way. 

yesterday after the tests i checked into the hospital for the procedure, it was hell but the nurses and anasthetist all recognise me from a previous visit, and as lay upon the hospital bed we chat about the history of anaesthetists and various progress through the ages but i'm mostly interested in ether which was used after chloroform, around the victorian era. it's effects are similar to alcohol and just as dangerous. it's an interesting science, after all no one really understands it because it's not really sleep more like a coma state. anyways I'm in the operating theatre and they deliver the anaesthetics through the blood and indicate it will either taste like rotting garbage of 1 in a million, bananas. i get the rotting garbage for a moment and then it changes to bananas.  it's quite extraordinary and when it hits it hits, i'm out. the first part of the procedure is to send a camera into my heart and check for clots, if they find one they will not be able to do the second part. fortunately there are no clots (despite the chemists mistakes) and they go on to deliver the shock.

when i come to i am back in the ward. it was a success. they want me to stay as there is no one at home to monitor my recovery so i end up overnight. in the morning i'm discharged and head homewards.

few days to chill out now, find my bearings as i seem a bit adrift after this one.

well the big news is in, from the front line, where i have a friend who is a PR expert and showed a great interest in my novel. she suggested i seriously think about a mini series and go through the steps of marketing it and pitching it which i considered. there is no doubt it would make an excellent series on netflix and due to it's topical nature may draw some attention. however my energy was pretty low, and there's an element of danger around it so i waited for a while hoping to discus this with people close to me, but they had all disappeared so i just sat with it. eventually my friend sent me a proposal, it was really good and in the spirit of factory records i just said, you can have 10% of whatever i get, all you have to do is get it on their desks and spark interest. now she is a glamorous blonde and very smart, plus she's very well connected so when reading her proposal it was obvious she had put effort into the issue and mapped out a pretty good plan of attack. i looked at her website for her business and it is excellent, her own writing is impressive as is her eccentric humour. so i wrote back, 'read the book again, if you believe in it and we can take it from there.'

a few weeks later she contacts me. she's spoken to some production companies and one specifically that deals in gritty crime dramas. they basically told her it's impossible to make anything like this in australia, it's a death sentence and i should do it overseas set in another country. you gotta laugh really.

anyways, the sequel is coming along nicely but i have come to a fork in the road. this conclusion to my duo-logy could stay very believable or go completely into a very conspiracy theory - like zone. i need a second opinion and some advice but there's no one around for me to ask who knows enough about the subject.

 it's been a long night and i was not sure i would wake up after eventually falling asleep, it took me ages and around 3pm i eventually drifted into a dreamless state, where at 5am i awoke feeling restless and irritable. the pain in my chest, my damaged heart was awful and for the last 24 hours had me functioning at 10% instead of the 50% i had become used to since my AF situation. anyways, i clambered out of bed and my attempt to actually make my bed left me somewhat breathless and exhausted. even the mechanical act of breathing hurt and felt different than usual. after a shower and some coffee i went down to terrible and watched the surf, the waves were wonderful and the water looked clean and inviting but under my circumstances far to risky to enter. i read for a while in the sun. 

supermax is a compilation of three novels featuring the two lead characters max and angie, written by two crime writers, ken breun and jason starr possibly the best modern noir crime novels ever and certainly the funniest. it's a real laugh out loud story and with the witty snappy dialogue you expect from tarranteno or scorsese. all the characters are very nasty, awful people and their situations go from bad to worse to worser as the story continues at a super fast pace and with various twists and turns and introductions to new characters and even more horrific personalities, yet funny as it gets.

a strange thing happened, which is i figured out the chemist had made a massive error in my medications, which possibly resulted in my AF not improving. they put the wrong dosage on the box, so i was getting 50% less dose than necessary.  i have to return to hospital in a couple of days as they will do some more procedures but they will have to keep there as there is no one at home to keep an eye on me, curses, i hate being in hospital but there's no choice. 

a week of hard work, one day left to go, before i can take some time out, it's been huge, so many dramas and events pass me by at work, really huge situations but nothing involving me and fortunately i end up looking very good but at the expense of about 5 other people. it's weird but the karma must have caught up with the idiots i have to work with, although my boss will undoubtably cover it up or find someone else to blame because this is australia in the year of our comrade 2026 where the useless rise to the top and get what they want while the innovators and hard workers driven by passion and intellect have to suffer the fools. ah, australia where did you go wrong, i think after hawke. that's when the rot set in. 

anyways what do i know, i just plod onwards hoping to pay my mortgage and bills on time, maybe the occasional book here and there and if i feel extravagant an ice cream every wednesday night after terrible beach drum circle. 

i was watching one of my fave people being interviewed by a moronic irishman who seemed to be reading from a list of questions, and unable to actually converse but johnny lydon was generously talking away and his honesty was incredible refreshing as was his bravery. he talks a lot about the mythology of mandela, which is very rare to hear due to the fact he is often promoted as a legend of humanity whereas the reality is pretty grim. he spoke about the bbc covering up for jimmy saville and what happened when he blew the lid. i love lydon, a really smart guy with working class roots, he's honest and funny, self depreciating yet well aware of his place in history as a 'sex pistol.'

as far as watching / listeneing goes, i do think this is very interesting.

https://youtu.be/3bWzPHMXLeY?si=xG-_zqD5YrQi0-Kr

 the sarvan by douglass hoover

a small group of prisoners in the first world war held in a barbaric work camp where they are treated with the cruelty and sadistic brutality by their german captors are given a chance to be transferred to a neutral camp in switzerland by the mysterious officer who appears to have documentation from the Kaiser himself. 

escorted by a handful of men the prisoners find themselves stranded in a small town isolated by mountains and ice in the alps,  where they must cohabitate and make use of themselves with the community. 

the community are mostly females and seem to hold strange ceremonies and rituals based upon the ancient cult of mithras. 

this is the novel stephen king aspires to write, he is good at short stories but his novels are predictable and far to long winded. douglass on the other hand is detailed without being boring, his characters are very interesting with many dimensions to them, and the story is a page turner as we want to see what happens next as well as comprehend what exactly is going on. 

i really enjoyed this one, took me back into binge reading, where i could not put the book down. this belongs in any bestseller list despite it not being one, it really is fantastic, and would make a great film.

there's a supernatural element to it but it's not overwhelming or dominating, it's always there waiting to make it's appearance but the story is about characters and their survival against the more mortal enemy of war and how to survive it.

okay well now it's time for a good crime novel next, something pulpy and with snappy noir dialogue from interesting characters we hate at first but kinda want them to have a happy ending, yeah, that kinda trip.

last sunday i took a serious blow to the head, it sent me reeling into that high level pain area along with loss of awareness, disorientation and some kinda weird liquid escaping from the top of my head that was not blood but some transparent fluid. it was outrageously painful, my crown swelled up and the only thing that seemed to ease the pain was a packet of frozen vegetables. several times i thought i should go to hospital but i had work, i can't afford not to work and my positive thinking made a valiant effort to overcome but the pain has not gone and i fear it may be bleeding on the brain or severe bruising so i have to take myself to hospital again. just before i leave i attempt to refill my rosette box of medication for the week and realise the chemist has given me the wrong meds, so this needs to be fixed which takes a day and a half. so today after finally sorting out the mistake i am about to go to hospital and have my brain looked at. head injuries seem to be my thing, i've had a severe brain injury to the frontal lobe which changed my life completely once, a prerequisite to ayahuscia it appears but now this is on my crown so we will see what happens. i just hope i live a little longer as I'm writing again and really feel good about that. 

so the bizarre thing is when i drive myself to the hospital there is nowhere to park, i drive around for an hour, and there is nothing. no space anywhere. so it's back home for me, back home and hope i wake up in in the morning.

a strange powerful energy, almost a force has besieged me, my body over run with it's directive as i sit up at 3am for a few hours writing a free flowing, almost channelled follow up to my novel the antidote. it's been this way for about two weeks and my time is literally consumed with writing. the strangeness is there's little conscious thought in the story, it's just ambling along, i don't even know where it will end, but there have been several points it could have so far, i guess the process will inform me. it's great to be writing like this again,  everyday when getting up old captain mission counts his blessings, just got another day to write, that's a win, for i feel the story must be told. that's my mission at the moment which is weird as i am supposed to be a science fiction writer. anyways it's a case of i write therefore i am.

this time we jump about 30 years in to the future and the main character is obviously older and now a well oiled part of a strange agency tasked with assassination. he's experienced now, a different animal from the one in the first book, again i've jumped from first to last.  this one is set in the uk, and based around the grooming (rape) gangs saga. it's very tricky because the obvious criticism is waiting to pounce upon me but it's just a factual background and very contemporay setting. anyways, it's almost finished in draft form and needs tiding up, editing and a few insertions and details. the bit i'm actually not skilled in. 

war interrupts the world, everyone is panicking, terror on the streets of sydney, the airways filled with opinion, somebody sees the future another sees the past, one man living in the present says nothings going to last. you can't keep the peace forever, you can't go to fight with flowers, inaction saved nothing but zen, and action plans all fail, you can't hear the screams of the wounded over the wailing sirens hail. trapped in some luxury resort, it's a middle east heaven or hell, enemies of the people change sides like it really matters, until cameras point their way, and the imans and the preachers encourage more carnage, the religion of peace and calmness, all win the hearts and minds, in a suicidal empathy delusion, losers on all sides. the western way is war fare or law fare, all's fair in the fun fair. 

currently reading howard jacobsons new book which is absolutely brilliant, possibly his best as i didn't find many of his other works quite as funny as this, and sad as well as it reflects the position of most of us very well. it's hilarious in parts and very visual but the underline tone is despair as we are all sucked into the madness that anti semitism always brings to the societies that tolerate it.  

apparently 64 years on earth in this body means i have lived quite a bit, it's true i crammed a lot in there but i'm also tired and burnt out from all those crazy things, and need some time to just breath slow, smell the flowers and enjoy a wave or two. the colours today were wet and grey as i drove down the freeway i treated myself to a chocolate custard pudding which i ate on the run. the heart is pumping onwards, still outta whack, and my face feels like an old sea faring pirate stuck in a caribbean storm,  a long way from land, looking for an island to hold up on, while the english navel vessels are in hot pursuit, captained by sadistic members of his majesty's royal navy. i tell you my pursuers have the smell of empire about them, a rotten one at that. 

this morning i hear my ex wife debbie died. she had an aggressive cancer and passed away in sleep. our son was with her and as i spoke with him we both agreed, it was better she was no longer suffering and in pain. it's somewhat sad in ways that are complex, i'm sorry i never got to resolve issues that she had incorrectly believed about me, and i am sorry she went to her death still clinging to a fabrication but in other ways it is nothing to do with me, time put me on a different path and we are separated not just by the view of death but also ideas on life. she was when i was with her good, a good wife, a good mother. and for that i am grateful. post marriage, her hatred of me clouded everything she ever did or said so since those days i really had little to do with her. 

she's gone. i remain. 

i don't know how long i have. these days when i wake up i'm surprised and joyous, another day, more time. money can't buy it. love can't buy it, it's value is beyond currency. it's a gift. which probably explains why i am always surprised. vale debbie.

 

vale dan simmons, one of the great science fiction writers of our time. i read hyperion many moons ago and it was a life changing book. i had just arrived in avalon and devoured it in a few sessions. the story of a pilgrimage based upon chuacers tales, each pilgrim telling their story. it was incredible, each in a different style and with amazing situations, the book was brilliant and characters sympathetic and wonderfully rich. 

they were on their way to the time tombs where the mysterious shrike await. each with a request. i remember not wanting to do anything else until i had burned through from cover to cover and then in quick succession the sequels were published completing the story arc, and it just got better and better. perfect science fiction story. dan became to me what stephen king is to most other readers.

i read all his works, he skipped to other genres, horror was one with his debut novel 'song of kali' which is haunting and disturbing. then there were the supernatural ones, and the brilliant vampire novel, 'children of the night' set in the romanian orphanage at the end of the communist rule. there were others as well, he wrote a lot of good books 'black hills' is the name of the indian shaman whom believes he hosts the sprit of general custer as he works upon the mount rushmore 60 years later with an idea to blow it to pieces. meanwhile the spirit of custer yearns for his beloved wife having awoken in a cold lonely dark place.

simmons also wrote the amazing book, 'the terror' which was also a great adaptation for a mini series. it tells the tale of the franklin expedition to the artic and throws in some mythology as the survivors trapped in a frozen wasteland are forced into cannibalism, madness and all while a mysterious beast stalks them. 

but my personal fave was the book everyone hated, 'flashpoint' a seriously brilliant novel depicting a near future. man that book was brilliant and possible. it was a prophecy.

vale dan simmons, and thanks for the wonderful stories.

finally after a week of disturbed sleep i manage to sleep 8 hours and wake up at a reasonable hour feeling good. it's been very challenging with the old heart beat this week and the sooner i get into hospital for the electric shock the better. almost everything i do at the moment exhausts me, but i somehow still manage to do it. 

my friend paul takes me to see his new house and it's really beautiful, big sprawling house with two fire places and a remarkably large open plan kitchen, six bedrooms with en suites and a massive amount of lounge space. outside there's a massive farm with a cow, and a manicured garden with an open plan shed with a massive pizza oven and entertainment area. there's even a huge pool and a garage where three cars could fit easy. it's in a lovely part of the country side, and 20 mins drive from the beach.

on the way back home i stop in at the market and get some jalopenos's, bread and blue cheese. i pick up a bottle of cherry juice and an avocado from harris farms. the sun is out now, hot and heavy with it's humidity, and tonight is the full moon. it will rise over the ocean and we will be saluting it at out drum ceremony as it appears. hail le sol, bringer of light and life.

its strange after getting the antidote out there i unexpectedly began its sequel, it just started happening and i couldn't stop the flow. whereas the antidote is the alpha, its predecessor is the omega, the conclusion of the story. it will tie up a lot of loose ends, finish what was started 30 years ago. i'm a third of the way through, although i have no idea where it is going or how long it will be, a third just feels right. it's set in the uk and probably needs a lot more research and fine tuning, fortunately i have a couple of friends, tez and jean who live there and can actually assist me with some background info if required. but i can do that when i complete the skeleton. anyways, it is really nice to have that energy back, my muse whatever it is is flowing strong and i'm grateful for it.

the heart specialist said i need the electric shock, he changed my medication and seemed to think all was going to be fine. good news i guess. i'm still in AF, it slows me down but i guess as long as i am breathing i'm winning. 

i checked the surf out this morning and it looked beautiful, splendid colour and calmness, slight wave but time was running out for me this morning as i had a few things to do. 

back home i'm enjoying  podcast called 'heretics' where the host andrew gold is chatting to a jay anderson a younger version of graham hancock, it's very good and convincing.

https://youtu.be/L3oZiZOexA0?si=HMxf_4zCuLEQg5nM

i spent a few days in hospital, apparently my heart went back into AF and they thought i may require defibrillation. it was strange as i attempted to let my brother know but he just hung up on me, which is standard for him to be honest, possibly the worst communicator i have ever known. unfortunatly i had to let jake know which is something that i would have liked to avoid as he is dealing with his mother in hospital and she is dying a slow agonising death so i didn't want to burden him with additional anxiety. anyways, having downplayed my state at least someone knew where i was.

the hospital up here is very good, i was thinking how lucky i was to be among such friendly nurses and specialists. x-rays, blood tests, ECG's tubes, needles and hundreds of questions later they decide the best course of action is to discharge me and wait for my cardiologist to assess the situation on monday when coincidently i have an appointment. i make my way home, it's late night and i'm thinking of my father and the last time i saw him.

the days and nights seem weighted down, there's death in the air, hanging over everything. it's annoyingly frustrating because it's everywhere, on the end of each passing minute, outside the door. i don't know about that archetype image carrying the scythe, my version seems to carry some sort of hourglass, sand passing through the chamber, maybe the knife is hidden in his cloak, the one that cuts my heart out and weighs it on the scales with the feather. 'wait death, that heart is leaking, it's hardly worth weighing old chap.'

sometimes i just wanna close my eyes and see my dad again. talk about all the usual stuff we liked to chat about. i miss him.

sydney is expensive now, it's a ridiculous city when coffee costs the same as a loaf of bread. bills rates petrol all just seem out of control. apparently its economics but economics in the modern world is extortion, and the public are being extorted severely by our ruling class. i am re reading the 'list of seven' by mark frost, twin peaks co creator. it's better second time around, and i must admit I'd forgotten a lot of the details. it's a supernatural occult murder mystery with arther conan doyle as the main protagonist, and several founous people of the age making appearances in one form other than the other including madame blavatsky, bram stoker ect.

i decided to re read this as i came across the very rare sequel 'the seven messiahs' which i would like to read next. it's strange how david lynch received most of the credit for twin peaks yet mark frost very little. yet the series could not have worked without mark frosts input. anyways he is a good writer and the tale he tells is great victorian adventure, not without it's humour. 

getting my heart scanned today and it does look like i have returned to arrhythmia which i will have to manage for two weeks before i see my cardiologist. it's just another challenge i have to deal with but i did enjoy chatting to the technician who was telling me the vaccine is the cause of it all, in his profession ever since the vaccines there has been a huge increase in heart issues and cancers. he explained how nsw health actually manipulated information on vaccines on two seperate occasions and have remained unaccountable. this is the curse of the age, unaccountability. at the bottom of the food chain we are all held to account, fined, sacked or penalised but at the top end you get away with mass murder.

so sad when i think about my friend martin von donaldson, i really wanted to see him again. was hoping i could zip over this year, hang out for a weekend or something. that would have been very special, martin jean and tea and old captain mission. and who knows maybe we could drag chris along as well. the thought makes me smile but life is filed with surprises and not all nice ones. 

lots of sad news this weekend, the first was from my brother informing me about a mutual friend of the family who was found dead in his bath. and not in a rock and roll way, nope mark it seems appears to have died from self neglect. overweight, no life, no friends, living on junk food  he just gave up and died. only 50. the irony is he was one of the kids my mother always wanted me to be like, and throughout my childhood and youth he was held up as shining examples of the people i should aspire to become. sure he was rich, he had loads of money but he was a strange guy who eventually my mother began to dislike. me i recall as a kid we would visit their big mansion in radlett and watch michael caine in zulu on the projector or play hide and seek. it was a huge freaking house. mark was okay as a kid, he was just very straight and he had an older brother nicky who was even straighter and even more boring. anyway's it's sad but to be honest there's no real connection for me. 

on the opposite end of the spectrum is my very old friend martin von donaldson, i was told about him sunday morning by jean and it's still quite shocking and sinking in. i first met marty around 1979 when i worked in carnaby street at a punk rock kinda shop. those days london still had a vibe and was heading into the post punk period, i hung out with lots of people and bands without knowing much about their aspirations, the sound, boy george before fame, the southern death cult who went on to be the cult, wham, the ruts, the au pairs and such just a parade of people that hung around the area, drinking in coffee shops, pubs or shopping for clothes. everyday around noon i'd see this guy walking down the street, he actually didn't walk, he strutted, with a bright orange ziggy haircut, chelsea boots and a black leather jacket he would cruise past. it turned out he worked at the bbc and spent his lunch break in carnaby street. one day he walked passed in a ziggy tee shirt and i was wearing a velvets one so we connected and started talking music and how i always wanted to sing bowie tunes. and he being a guitarist was attempting to put a band together. history was made. we became best mates, he would often come up to north london and hang out for the weekend at my parents and i would in turn go to his neck off the woods, bromley and tour old bowie landmarks with him. he introduced me to the band, a collection of lovely people including my friends tez and jean whom i still know and see when in the UK. martin and i eventually moved to west berlin together and shared an apartment, and many adventures until 1987 when i decided to move to australia.

marty was very talented, a natural rock star, he was even a rock star before he could play, he just had that energy. he was clever, very funny and possessed a temper on him that was explosive. i once saw him destroy a stamp vending machine with a block of ice in berlin with such ferocity and aggression there was nothing left of the machine. we had a lot of crazy times over there, like real crazy.

in australia i seemed to loose touch with everyone, i was starting a new life, a family and it was hard, we swapped a few letters, he wrote great letters but then we stopped, until 1998 when I googled his name with berlin guitar attached and his name popped up attached to a studio so despite it all being written in german the number was readable and i rang it then and there.  

'is martin there danke'

'yes, yes, he is standing right here.'

and thus we had our first conversation in a decade. 

although we exchanged a few e mails Martin never seemed to write back, although jean and tea kept in contact and even visited him in spain where he moved to. i knew he was ill but really thought he was recovering and so it's a big shock.at the back of my mind i thought we would meet up again and maybe record. we used to do a cracking version of 'cracked actor.' 

anyways, it's sad and can't help me thinking about it, the sudden elimination of life, one second you are here the next you ain't, it really is a blink of an eye. life. 

anyways marty was like me, a bowie nut, so it seems fitting i post this for him, see ya on the other side Martin.

for mvd 

morrissey - notre dame

the usual calamities at work, all i seem to do is pick up other peoples mistakes and have to correct them as well as attempt to do my own work, every thing becomes a challenge not due to clients but through the staff i work with, it's become untenable and absurd. no one would believe me however it would make a great tv show. i'm exhausted from it, i told my manager she suffers from 'the tyranny of low expectations' which as you may guess didn't go down well. anyways, enough about that, on friday will be seeing the best band on earth, the church, it's their last show in sydney unless they decide to tour the new album lacuna, which steve says is being delayed due to the record company wanting to release their past catalogue on vinyl, which doesn't sound like a major issue except past members are disputing things and holding everything up. i dunno, it's not my place to get involved at all, i wish them all well but fucking hell, i can't wait to hear the album, by all accounts it is amazing. 

they single sacred echoes is complemented by a track called 'the mirror world' which is fucking amazing, so if that's any indication of what to expect no one could possibly be disappointed, and all i hope for is i can stay alive to hear it, maybe see it preformed. these are the simple desires of old captain mission these days, stay alive, keep healthy, and get through each day with minimum damage. which is really why i like staying home and reading.

from the mirror world to the mirror wars which i am reading, about to finish, an english science fiction novel which is far to english for my liking, although i sympathize with the writer who is just trying to tell a good story. i mean i am in the same position however my lenses when it comes to science fiction is something peculiar, i mean i expect a good story above all else but i also expect something mind blowing and interesting and this kinda fails. weak dr. who like characters, over polite dialogue and irrelevant conversations, this is a trilogy that should be edited into one novel and it may be very good with the correct hand guiding it.    

however it has some good moments and i will continue reading because i admire people who at least make an effort, it doesn't have to be perfect and i want to know how it turns out.

as i pull out the driveway a rabbit is revealed, he's cute, sitting there in his white skin looking like he's chowing down on some berries. most people think rabbits come out of hats but this morning one came  from under my car. i hope he's there when i return from the beach, i will feed him some carrots. the water looks good but i don't have time for my swim, just a quick coffee and to say hello to some people.

there's a lot of love for nick cave out there who has just played sydney, he's the talk of the town. i missed him this time around as  i chose to see the church next week and don't have a budget for anyone else. however i am a big nick cave fan and although i have seen the seeds play several times it's only budgetry reasons that stopped me this time around.

my garden has been tidied up, it's looking good but needs a big statue. i don't want a buddha though, i want a chulthu type monument or even a weeping angel.

over the last two days i have two random encounters with what i could only describe as nazi's. although they would never use that term, their ideas and alliances are the essence of nazism, it's just most australians are to stupid to comprehend it or live in a strange twisted version of history that inverts everything to the protocols of the elders of zion, and nothing i repeat nothing will convince them of the medieval ideology they embrace. one even said to me, they hoped this time they finished the job. it's just so weird as for me this is the very thing most people who grew up amongst jews always heard and dismissed as fantasy. you are being paranoid, it will never happen again, it's history but no-one would repeat it ect. and now, it's beginning again. i am so glad my dad is not around to see this modern incarnation of the oldest hatred. it's quite bizarre to hear normal people reduce their intelligence to the dumbest beliefs and ideas. you would imagine i am used to it but it's always quite surprising how dumb people reveal their racism and hate to me. it's global and really nasty to see so mainstream.

time flips over, i'm confused by reality,  far to much hate it's an irrational thing, counter intuitive but i really wanna get away from it all. i dunno what's what anymore, i'm so emerged in the nonsense people seem to say, and yet i'm unable to respond to them. so many people deny truth of things and argue there is no truth but if your a young 19 year old girl who likes riding her motorbike in iran protesting against a brutal regime and shot for not wearing a headscarf then there's only one truth. 

the regime would only release the body to her family if they denied she had been shot. yeah nothing to see here.

vale diana bahador

the distorted news, lies and propaganda, idiot winds and the storm ahead, the zombie horde, better of dead

you got the united nations, running drugs and guns, you have revolutionary zeroes pretending they are the ones.

travel by thought except your brains been hijacked, replaced by a theory and no ideas, in academic distortions and nursery rhymes, his masters voice whispers to his mistress, everybody knows everyone has a price says the temptress. what's the cost of my soul i wonder, what's it worth. i consult some lesser demon, 'i'll get back to ya, we got an abundance of fucking souls, we are all souled out, these days they ain't worth the body they come in.'

i hung up disgusted at the state of affairs, the new age is kinda medieval, may as well stick pins in a doll or read the entrails of a goat, burn a witch.

it takes a couple of hours before the imp calls back, 'er got a price for your soul mission.'

'oh yeah, what's it worth to you?'

'well it's higher than i thought, there's a big demand for your soul it appears.'

'how high?'

'8.6 mill.'

'mmm okay, i'll get back to you.'

something to consider, 8.6 its enough to have a good life, see the world, buy some time. i'll see what my dreams say.

after a long therapeutic bath i fall into a deep sleep, my dreams almost begin immediately as if rem sleep was outside my front door. 

i'm floating in space, watching planets, satellites and strange flying saucers float by. i see major tom looking strung out, 'hey tom, come on over we can play space bongos with japanese girls.'

major tom sings out, 'i aint got no money and i aint got no hair,' he floats passed me complaining about lumbago.

space is silent now, the jupiter 7 floats past with the robot waving from a porthole window and there goes a north korean satellite. 

at least it's peaceful here. 

no sooner had i thought that, than a heavenly gospel choir of angels begin singing, 'what's it worth, captain. what's the price of your soul?'

well that is the question.

they break into some kind off harmony, it's real nice. 

the sun starts to appear as the face of jupiter begins to light up, wow, it's really beautiful. i look around, solar winds, red light shifts, blue seasons in tranquility, everything looks amazing. the more you look the more you see. planets swirl around me, stars fade in and out, i'm awestruck. and then everything is interrupted by an alarm. it's coming from inside my suit, somethings wrong, a warning. i look at the arm band on my left arm, a light flickers red, and then stays red. oxygen. i'm running out of air. air, that real strange thing we all need. i start to gasp, a last thought, a final one.

what's the price of my soul.

i wake up.

the old heart is damaged from the vaccine, it's playing up and the result is i'm down, but not out. however this makes me poor company so at steve's avoca gig i keep a low profile. solo steve is just as good as the church, it's a different energy but just as brilliant,  most songs are re-contextualised but sound fresh and interesting and then there are his cover songs which to be honest was wonderfully inspired. but it was bowies lazarus that stole the show. sacrilege in the hands of anyone else but steve made it his own and it was beautiful and terrifying. i chose to spare him with my symptoms but managed to give him a few alistair  reynolds novels i had collected for him which i know he will enjoy.

then i retuned to work which was mind numbingly dull and depressing, watching the utter negligence perpetrated upon clients that deserve so much more, it kills me but i have my limits and know what battles to fight. i really need the money so i have to grin and bear it.

tonight is terrible beach drum circle, which i attend every week. it's a bunch of locals playing bongos drums, percussion on the waterfront as the sun goes down, pretty tribal and great therapy as i loose myself in the beat. we are often joined by dancers, hulu hoop girls and girls in bikinis twirling fire along with various dancers and members of the public passing by. tonight the beach was packed and it went mental. I lost myself in a strange new altered state, fantastic.

we took the old route, the old road, the winding remote path through the bush, thousands of years of trees and wilderness between us and that ever curving roadway as my car followed two big triumph bikes and a scooter, not speeding but slow enough to take in the details, look around and enjoy the incredible energy carried through time of australian bush. there is one short stop at an off road cafe, it's basic, no frills, stuck in 1960's cafe that sells a few pies, coke and maybe an ice cream. i did notice a coffee machine but it was gathering dust and looked like it belonged in a museum. we hit the road again, and although i kept peter and andrew in my line of sight monique would disappear around the bends ahead. 

we rolled into the 'anglers rest' and had a lovely lunch, i must say it was sensational. slow time, great conversation and lots of laughter, it's very cool to have friends again, like proper friends. brooklyn is just a sleepy river town, not much going on, it does have a train station and a marina, small boats in and out all the time. we wandered along the waterways, we saw strange eccentric cars and boats, driftwood, fishermen, pelicans and ancient trees displaying their root systems and then we clambered up a rock staircase to a plateau where a lone man listened to billy connolly on some sort of old radio. monique  chased bush turkeys and i sat down for a rest.

up here you could see the waterways, a sprawling web of rivers and bush, a splattering of houses and signs of life, a few boats but generally nothing, no sign of man, just the vastness of nature untamed and as you look out, you know somethings looking in. are you really just a part of all off this? 

i guess when you die and your body is eaten by worms, maybe then.

i drive home thinking about what a beautiful day i have just had, the people, the nature, the peace. there's huge dark clouds threatening above, i'm exhausted and as i pull into my driveway, the rain fall begins.

it's a terrible world and a beautiful one, the older i get the more i choose beauty as my my drug of choice, i just don't wanna get to caught up in the horror, yet i acknowledge it's there at the gates, outside the door, clawing to get inside my brain and infect me, the zombie horde. the last frontier is not space but the mind, the inner space where war really takes place, the mind and the heart, infect one and you infiltrate the other. i know this makes me unpopular and unusual but its my truth and where i stand. 

my cough seems to be fading, it's been an awful week of violent coughing fits that have seen me almost pass out, blinding white lights and the world literally turning negative before me. this happens every two years, no one has ever explained it of understood it, despite various tests and hospitalisations.  the heart specialist suggested a rare form of gastro which manifests in a cough and i confess the medication he gave me worked instantly. maybe it's just that simple but I can't recall the medication and it's only available by script. it's all to weird. i can't work for a few days so i head down to the beach, catch up with my crew who are all lovely. 

the surf is calmer, less mess and more gentle. there's plenty of people still hanging around, i think it will return to normal once the holidays are over, terrible beach being a prime location for visitors. tomorrow my book comes out, the book.

big messy waves, the ocean is wild, white water churns and spins me around challenging me even getting beyond, then there's a furious rip pulling me to the left.  the last three days have been chaos and although the perfect work up, not much in the way of surfing. it's been ridiculously hot, sweltering and intense, hence my early morning starts at 6am but by 10 I'm back home, siesta and resting. still not 100% well, my cough getting worse each day, my chest doesn't feel right and my breathing slow and laboured, but with a high pollen count, high temperatures and my general exhaustion i just rest and hope for the best.

i get to bed early, maybe 7pm, sleep has been mostly intermittent but last night i slept well. my dreams have been half forged, unravelling as i wake,  as my brain attempts to recall them they slip away, it's an awful feeling. 

today they say rain is due, and i am hoping rainfall comes as i need my garden watered and an afternoon where the climate is reasonable. it really has been to much but now coffee. it's still early, no plan as yet, just waiting for rain, my face needs a shower,  the fan rotates humming above, the simple pleasures of birds calling, a sunday filled with potential and promise. but first coffee.

 

 feeling quite wretched i haul my ass down to the garage for it's 2 recall notices and full service, which i am told takes a full day. drop of time is 7am which means I am awake at 0530 after 5 hours sleep.  the drive down is not so bad but at 7am im confused about what to do, when Jake calls to suggest i get to the northern beaches where he will meet me and drive me around. it's the first time i have seen jake since he arrived in sydney in november. 

he's looking excellent, handsome, healthy and radiating good energy, the opposite of me, an exhausted burnt out shell. he leads a pretty good life, running from dee why beach to manly each morning, she's enjoying this part of the beaches as it's close to the city and had all the convinces of the beach life. it's nice being a passenger. we drive through curl curl, firelight and into manly which i never really liked. later we go for a swim at curl curl where the water is very warm and the surf rolls in perfectly.

it's very hot and despite attempts to fight my general feeling of being at the end of my road i end up back in hornsby half asleep in the toyota waiting lounge. at 1730 they tell me the cars ready and i drive home.

i'm about to pull into my drive way when a friend turns up to take me to drumming. every wednesday night we drum at the beach, dance, hula hoop, fire dance and just hang out. there's a massive group of drummers and spears drums, percussion instruments and spectators. the ocean is filled with evening swimmers and children. there are far more people out than normal. 

i'm not feeling so sociable so i just bang the drum, two hours of tribal energy, i'm exhausted snd exhualted by the whole thing, entered a different state of consciousness, 

home later i shower and drift into a strange night of sleep, dreams, nightmares, coughing and  shadows. i'm thinking about death when i wake up.