it started as quite a wonderful day, the cold bites through the bone, birds flash their colours and the skies are radiant blue with a few odd shaped clouds hanging there like white chaos art, pan ready for our beach walk spinning around skipping like a lamb, i'm wearing my new pants and my captains hat, dressed for a day of lunacy and piracy, we wander down greeting the good people of newport as i anticipate my coffee and a flick through the daily news. the new coffee shop is called 'the garden cafe' it's rather wonderful in a strange way as it's actually some ones office, an architect called pheobe who makes the best soup (try the zucchini) i have ever had, but morning i need my latte and news fix.
i'm flicking through the usual stuff, reading between the lines, cross reading, tension here, stresses there, trouble turmoil, carbon blues and suddenly there on page five a small little column. 'politicians pay rise.'
the day seems to swirl and fall down the plug hole,
how the hell can these idiots tax us one day and the very next give themselves a pay rise. 
i later read senator nick zenophon who actually sounds like a character from the simpsons is one of two politicians who oppose the new increase which is around $5500 remember they already gave themselves a $45000 pay rise a few months ago. jesus, i don't mind people earning cash, i don't really mind if people clean up for doing their job, but these clowns should be paying us for fucking up the whole country, dragging our children into unbelievable debt that they and their children will be paying for. debt is slavery man, debt is fucking the very thing that keeps us enslaved,i rage to whoever is unfortunatly within earshot, how can australians allow this to happen, there should be rioting on the streets, what happened to the clever country?
there's no real answer to this, i think sometimes as we spin towards a new phase in evolution and consciousness, one that liberates us from the illusions, the illusionary world gets stronger and more absurd, it's a death throw. 
i look up, it's cold, the suns out, clouds darker, a storm front on the rise. pan and i wander down to the beach, we watch the wild waves breaking, there's no surfers this morning, to messy, lot of chop, the crash of surf roars through the morning and the morning roars through me. pans just wants to go home, so we do.