end of the line, end of the road, 2013 fading fast. if i had to do a review i'd say it was a tansformative year, an unexpected move away from everything i had come to know, a whole new environment, owning a home again, going into debt and struggling with money, learning about gardening at midnight, ponds and the wildlife, rediscovering my surfing spirit, solitude, another processes of augoides, angelic interventions, getting my book out there, gestating a painting, consolidation of people in my life, an attempt to learn a little more about human relationships while at the same time avoiding them. 
and next year, 2014 i don't know, maybe write some songs, complete the painting. as long as i can keep creating things i'll be happy.
   

sometimes i drive through some suburb of sydney and a memory just floats up into my mind, like a slow motion implosion of thoughts into a fully formed memory. it's a strange feeling, it comes from somewhere deep down, so deep i have no idea how far down it is, fucking deep. 
a suburb of sydney, chatzwood, the side most people don't visit, the old part of town, i'm driving along the pacific highway when i see this building, it's a hotel and i've been there, to a funeral. 
i'd split with my wife and was still in shock from the whole thing, i didn't know what i was doing, just went into this fear and the strangest thing was i had nothing to fear, i had done nothing wrong except my communication was shit, i just wasn't able to communicate in a direct honest way. i suffered for it. and i was kinda homeless. 
an english woman i worked with invited me to her place and i met her partner who was also a lovely lady and they made me dinner and offered me the front door key, no monkey business either, they were lesbians so it was all kosher. kosher lesbians i guess.
anyway i never needed to use the key as i was adopted by another group of lesbians who were not so kosher.
meanwhile as i'm attempting to cope with life in a big trauma, at work a new lady starts. she's irish and really nice and gets on well with the lesbian friend who shows her the ropes in the work environment, and unbeknown to anyone else outside the work environment, yeah these two started an affair. 
however, lesbian ones partner, the one who cooked me dinner and gave me a key to her place finds out and descends into a state of breakdown, ends up in a big northern district hospital eating disorder unit under 24 hour watch where she somehow manages to hang herself.
at that time in my life i was mr. bizarre love triangles but this was to much, it was a tragedy but it could have easily been a comedy, a black one but still a comedy. i think this began to develop as an idea in my head much later, one should laugh in the face of tragedy just to see what happens as an extreme sport only you couldn't do it with a rational mind, but with one in trauma you feel like you can do anything, except be happy.
so there i am invited to the funeral by the family of this lovely dead lady and asked to say a few words, so i said, she was a really genuine person who was very kind to me in a moment of need and it touched me, just penetrated my aura of despair. at... humanity, people, women, myself, every thing, it just was such an act of pure love, it touched me. 
i pulled out the key and said to the family, she gave me the key to her home and it was the first time i had ever met her, an act of kindness at such a desperate time in my life. it was a humane act.
then after some other people said some other words we went to some hotel and had a few drinks and that hotel was the very hotel that i passed by today, thus triggering this memory bomb. 
yeah it was a prousty type of moment, because that memory was like the seed bursting forth and now i'm in full bloom, recalling other experiences i had lost, which is always a good thing, i will forget them again so i guess it's good to write them down, then one day when i've forgotten everything i can read this whole blog and ponder my navel further.
the only way out is in. and then it's out. reality is a reflection of the self weather we like it or not, we manifest with our subconscious, therefore it stands to reason we should learn how to do this and use it find peace.

words are made of breath, a writer needs to be reminded of this sometimes. 
i really need a holiday, a little time out from work, it sucks my energy at the moment, that's thing about working in mental health, most of the time it's okay and cruisey but when the mental illness kicks in it becomes draining. there's no support for us, nothing but in a way its good as we are left to our own devices and i work with a good team. however most off them took some xmas time off and left a handful of us to run the place, working with one very demanding client. 
i manage him okay but you gotta have your wits about you, you gotta know how to read him and how to communicate with him, keep him safe and out of that fear that he kicks into.
safety is a fucking hard thing for anyone, you gotta dig deep to find it inside you but if your thinking processes are slightly out off alignment then it's going to be hard to process anything in a reasonable way. they say it's all chemicals but i'm not convinced, however i've seen behaviours changed through good medication, stability and safety resumed, so i am open minded, however the chemicals are one thing, there are others influencing the mind.
however i know my limits and i'm in need of a surf and some rejuv time. 
i got two more days and then i'm back in the water, my body really misses it. my whole sleeping pattern is out of whack, asleep by 0230 awake at 0700, solar powered captain mission going all day and night recharging his cells at the cost of depleting his empathy batteries. i do need a day of rest.
so it was great to catch up with wilde one and have a chat. she's an angel, gave me a very special xmas gift which i will earth soon. i like her lunar powered brain, i really wanted to buy her this book today but i have no cash, it was on sale to. 
she is working hard to, we both lamented our days of being somewhat freer and then we just raved about the sk gig in canberra, how we both thought his vocals were incredible, how cool it was for him to share his plant medicines. we raved about kate and her kindness and driving along country roads, getting lost and eating cakes listening to classical music as we drove through some valley watched by ravens and crows. yeah that was one rich day. 
i met her in a bookshop while i was searching for a book i saw there the other day, but i'd searched the shelves, employed the staff to seek it out and all to no avail. i searched all over for it, like a true book detective, however the book was gone. 
it was a lone copy, paperback on the far right hand wall, unremarkable cover, thick, female author, two initials then an unremarkable name i couldn't remember. the plot was about two brothers and their resentments, i thought it may be interesting when i saw it two days earlier and i wanted to write the name down so i could get it later from amazon. 
anyways, you know the score, it had sold.
so we sat down and had a cup of tea, actually i had a coffee, yes back on coffee, mmm, hard one to kick completely, i'm only having one a day. so we have a bit of a chat about doing a road trip to see the church when they play, saving up our days off and getting kate and just following the church for as long as possible around australia. i reckon that would just be a brilliant thing, in fact it's making me desire a lottery win so i can just do that forever.
i gotta say i love the prefab sprout sound in one of the songs from k and k, that voice, it's got paddies quality all over it, whatever that is, some kinda conversation with purity, a sweet decay, made up from some interesting sounds, they wash over you. 
i tell wilde child to get a copy and then i point to the johnathan black book on the shelf and tell her to read it one day.

  


  

at the track, race cars drift around the corners with some sort of precision but just a hint of danger, i'm sitting right up close to the flimsy net they think would protect us if a car should spin of the track, its possible but you can't let that ruin the moment. 
that moment where some louts drinking beer over my shoulder spill their drinks all over us, they seem to think it's funny. my client is edgy enough, he's on the brink of some kind of outburst, it's hot and he's walked for miles, yet somehow i laugh it off, 'he wanted a beer anyway?'
the guys say something unintelligible, they are part of a massive crowd that make me more nervous than the cars. they eat from buckets of kfc, drink those big bottles of coke and pepsi, they are really big and look very very similar, same haircuts, tattoos and biceps. what the fuck am i doing in car culture, the smell of petrol enters my lungs, its everywhere infiltrating my spirit, fuck i hate this shit, just the noise is killing us.
the cars seem to spin around the track faster and faster, they bring out these smaller cars with those wings like star wars space ships, they seem to give the driver more protection i think, if it rolled, it would roll. 
i sit down watching the families, mothers serving out macdonalds burgers, kfc chicken parts, ready dead roosters, toxic flesh burgers, fizzy drinks, dads knocking back the victoria bitters drunk and swearing. tiny chunks of dirt fly through the holes in the netting, hitting me in the face, the stench of rubber moving quickly into the natural world, creating chaos, get's me thinking, this is the world we all need to detach from, it's a zombie birdhouse out there and someone has to draw a line, is that for real. it is for the people that live in it, dramas about cars and girls named 'effie' with dyed blonde hair and plastic nails. 

yeah i know people dig cars and sports but there's something so unimpressive about this sport, the cars drive around in a circuit, a big oval making a racket, they drift around the muddy corners and speed up on the straights but i'd rather just not have any of this in existence.
this is why art is important, to feed the mind, the spirit.

sometimes i drive home late, listening to some music, looking at the highway, looking at the stars, the shadows of trees, some weird wispy cloud formation, the light reflected off the water as i drive over brooklyn, yeah everything's still and the traffic sparse, just me and my music, my thoughts which seem to flicker across my mind, not many the closer i get home, they just get less and less, anxiety, stress, all leaves me and i'm just kinda vacant and at one with the road. when i turn left into my dead end street i stick on my full beam and look for pan who sometimes waits out the front for me. if he's there he turns around and runs down the hill and to the back garden where he knows i have some weird dog treat for him, but tonight he's not waiting, he's probably dreaming somewhere. i look at the other houses, most have xmas decorations, lights and santa's, deer and one place has an inflatable homer simpson holding a tray of doughnuts, which should annoy me but makes me laugh as i drift past and head down towards the end of the road. 
i turn into my drive and park, hearing the waterfall and my fish, the pocket of wildlife and plants teem with all sorts of strange noises, frogs and bugs, hidden away from plain sight.
i open my front door and check pan, he needs his treat and some acknowledgement, it's only fair. i usually sit with him a little but tonight i need to have a shower and wash away the day. 
later i light my candles and put on the kennedy and kilbey cd, 'songs from the real world,' i smoke my spliff and listen to this music. here's one of the songs, they are all brilliant. please buy this cd, it really is unique in its beauty.

each song really stands out, not one song that i don't love. 
end of a long hard day, perfect closure.

xmas day is always strange, last year i spent it with a water drenched duckling watching mr. bean this year i spent it at work with a client whose family only wanted to spend a few hours with him, it was really sad. 
all year he spends wondering when he will see or hear from his family and on his birthday nothing, not even a phone call and once a year at xmas he gets a few hours with them after xmas dinner, the poor guy hadn't eaten much all day in the way of xmas feasting and all that jazz. 
when i got into the unit this morning he was sitting there waiting to do something so i took him out looking for a coffee shop. we ended up at my friends house in the city, she made us coffee and offered us some home made cake, i mean that's xmas, isn't it, and my client seemed really happy. 
later we drove through glebe and stopped off at bad manors in glebe. we sat in a crowed coffee shop and had chatted to some people about some stuff. a guy came over and shook my hand, wished me merry xmas, i think it was my aboriginal t-shirt, it attracts a lot of attention for some reason.
when i got back to the unit i put on the star wars dvd and watched it with him. 
star wars was fun, i enjoyed it but when it ended and i started to get my client ready for his family his mood changed.
he was dealing with abandonment, it was sad to listen to as he tried to articulate how he felt but the message was clear and he hugged me and said he didn't want to go see his family. i mean this is a guy who can hit you one moment and hug you the next, but i think it was a genuine expression of his rejection. he's torn up and conflicted, all his housemates went to their families, they get to stay at least until new years and it would be fair to say their families have regular contact with them, but poor old missions xmas client gets a couple of resentful hours with a family that have quite literally abandoned him.
i use the word resentful because i dropped him off 20 minites early and his brother says, 'you're early.'
i dunno, it's sad really, he's a handful, yeah he's demanding and difficult but he's cool, just a bundle of fear really.
as i'm leaving the brother says, 'what's with the t- shirt, are you making a statement?'

fucking 'north shore' people really piss me off sometimes, yeah, i'm making a statement, i like this t shirt because of the symbology, its beyond political, just look at it. 

the land is red, the sun bright yellow and the night sky is black, there's nothing political about it unless it exists in your mind mr. then it's your mind that is making the political statement not me or my shirt.
ho freaking ho! 
i drive home, it's been a long day, heavy rain hits me as i hit the freeway, i seem to be drifting through a haze of grey bleak atmosphere into the endless night. 
home hits like a soft pillow, in slow motion, after a shower i feel better and play 'kilbey kennedy' i smoke my spliff and start to feel the pull of gravity.

i do miss my friends tez and jean from brighton, they are such great people, i really feel like i need to see them, my son jake and my folks and my brother and all the people in my life back in the uk, it's another attempt for me to try to make peace with my mother i guess. i wanna hang out with jake and yesterday he invited me to stay at his groovy pad in london which was cool, and maybe the one thing that motivates me to actually plan something but the latest i can do it is probably 2015, maybe around my birthday, i always have such low key ones, it may be the perfect occasion to go out and celebrate with jake. it's such a fucking hard thing being a parent but jake made it so easy for me, he is an angel, my angel, fucking hell man he went to live in london with almost no cash and just a dream to get into the world of fashion and he did, he was an intern for a year, living on vegetarian noodles, doing it hard for a year in fucking miserable london, living in this tiny room, and now he's asking me over saying i can stay with him in london. this will work for me, i feel gutted about my last trip but this may work, and it's something i look forwards to, having a chat with jakob about a whole load of good stuff.
my favourite memory is when jake pulled out his cigarettes at the station. 
we were heading into the city after three days with my mother and we were both feeling a little frustrated and half way in on the tube jake told me to disembark so i did. we walked up a long tube staircase and he leant against the graffiti covered wall just near the surface, i had a glint of a tree and some grey clouds, but there was london standing in the tube stairwell smoking a cigarette in front of his dad for the first time, and he offered me one.
'jake,' i said, 'i think i'm going to need something stronger than that.'
we just laughed, and was the laughter of two people who know one another, and when i left him at the station and returned to australia his last words that first time, were, 'i know you dad.'
that's a good thing, it resolves everything i needed to resolve, i'm all good intentions, but they get misread, misunderstood, it's my fault, i gotta tweak it slightly but i do like to play in the world, i like flirting with everything that comes along, if it demands serious consideration i'll be serious. 
last time i was in london i dragged him to david bowie and a few bookshops, we did a few kooky things hung out with his lovely friends but it was not long enough. i know quality is the name of the game, but i would like a little more time with jake, that's really what i want, the four days i had last time were not enough considering i was there for almost six weeks.
he is my holy guardian angel if ever there was one, i love you jakob, we will catch up soon old friend.

i'm on my own, just a bunch of ghosts to talk with, some animals that adopted me and some strange plants that i've managed to sustain and so when i was surfing this morning i returned to the cafe and there i lost my keys, fortunately someone there had found them and kept them for me. 
i'm reading 'latro in the mist' by gene wolfe, a book that really strikes a chord with me, i feel so close to the main protagonist.
a mercenary in the greek wars is struck upon the head and awakes to discover he can see and interact with the gods, only each night as he sleeps his memory is wiped (the mist), therefore he records everything on paper in a scroll.
gene wolfe himself writes the introduction as though he has found the scrolls himself and researched their authenticity. i feel very strangely connected with this character as he picks up strange poets and companions along the way, enslaved to various people he is on a quest to return home to those he will remember. 
it's a beautifully written book and establishes gene wolfe as a very accomplished writer despite me never reading anything of his before, he always came highly recommended and this is an exceptionally good read complete with a glossary of terms i can refer to when things get a bit complex with language and names of the age.

well what everyone wants to know is what happened to neptune duaghter who on occasion made me my date and banana smoothie known on terrigal as the 'date me.'
when i first met her i was new in town, i walked in and saw they do date smoothies, that's my fave so i said, 'date and banana smoothie please,' and she immediately said, 'a date me' only i heard 'date me.' 
well one part of my brain jumped out of the other part and just replied, 'that's all i ever wanted to do miss, i was born for this moment, i'll date you, i'll drop everything, to have a date with you.'
she just giggled and i swept her off her feet with my flirty skills i've started to channel from an eccentric bohemian part punk, part beatnik, part mystic jester and we lived on coconuts and love for ever and ever....'
but of course in the reality i actually inhabited i said nothing, i was dumbstruck. 

later i saw her she looked different and i was really distracted by her, what was it about her, apart from her body, her energy and her smoothies and that soft voice, i'd hardly spoken to her but i knew she was a beautiful spirit. 
i haven't seen her for a while. yesterday i realised why i was so drawn into her, she is the red head on my book cover, it's uncanny, next time i see her i'll be fantasising about us taking off in my space ship. 
it is incredible, that a red headed lady should pop up in my cafe looking like my book cover lady. all this time i thought she was neptune's daughter.
i'd like to say, it was dancing around on the edges of my mind for a while, she was so familiar yet i would have never have though about the front cover. weird stuff happens all the time but this seemed interesting, but it is my sad duty to report i have not seen her for ages, maybe she blasted off without me, left me stranded on this lovely planet.

the kennedy and kilbey cd is just perfect. the songs are even juxtaposed seamlessly, steve's vocals have never been better, a multitude of voices but all undeniably his, and martin kennedy has really created something beautiful within this music. its very much made it my number, shared, one xmas gift to everyone i love, the other being jonathan blacks's book. 

i want to buy this for everyone but i don't have any cash to do it with, so one day if you ever see a copy and you have a spare few dollars buy this for yourself from me, it's incredible on many levels. the songs are  just jewels, i'm really taken aback. this music is filled with love over magick under will, times a shitload of imagination, 'songs from the real world' is so different, it's really captured a spirit of something 'real about the world.' 

i love each and every one of these songs. 

well that's my take, but find out for yourself, buy it from this link.

http://www.kilbey-kennedy.com/

you can get jonathan's book from here

http://www.quercusbooks.co.uk/book/The-Sacred-History-by-Jonathan-Black-ISBN_9781780874845#.UraP7OAWzKc

happy xmas

capt mission

http://www.quercusbooks.co.uk/book/The-Sacred-History-by-Jonathan-Black-ISBN_9781780874845#.UraP7OAWzKchttp://www.quercusbooks.co.uk/book/The-Sacred-History-by-Jonathan-Black-ISBN_9781780874845#.UraP7OAWzKc

so what are angels? my non academic eye informs me these are aspects of intelligent energies, either hermetically sealed inside our own minds released and then projected out or they are part of a structured and ordered host of beings that inhabit the universe, on the fringes of our perception and occasionally they intervene in the affairs of humans. 
i don't know what the answer is and in a way it dosn't matter, the issue is undoubtedly about process, how do we access this stuff, apart from a spiritual science, a investigation into our own minds and our intuitive natures and seemingly deep reservoir of power that lays dormant within our subconscious. 
an angel will manifest differently to different people, and in different times, i imagine angel technology (magick) would evolve and appear far different in contemporary times than biblical, it may explain extraterrestrials on earth, who knows? 
i am speculating that it is possible to access angels whatever your definition through a spiritual path called magick in particular the process of augoeides. peter carroll reckons there are two elements to this, 

'one being the projected image of whatever the magickian is evolving towards, the other is a quantum uncertainty which ultimately determines the results of the magickian and is the very spark of the creative force.'

true will, in other words? 
the important key to this is remember language can't be used to describe the territory, symbols work more effectively as we can see by the magickal language we inherit, it lasted a lot longer than other languages, it crossed time and space and borders, it's a language 
of profound meaning, it's rich and beautiful and true.

the problem is you gotta destroy your ego, loose your friends and family, be humiliated and called a nut and basically turn the other cheek without loosing your own self respect. just like a fool, you don't need to know where you are going, you don't need to take anything because you have your trusty friend, a dog or partner who will follow you blindly, the blind leading the blind, yet, intuition maps the way, we are not totally blind because the minds eye is opening now, it perceives information almost everywhere and simultaneously nowhere, because now you have to have a conversation with it, is it good information that evolves (holy info or destructive information that inhibits, you develop a way of attaching significance to parts of the experience and you let go of the others, usually doing the inverse of what a rational mind would do. 
it takes an intrepid explorer to loose sight of the shore to discover new lands sometimes.
so as soon as this path begins, it's very difficult to deviate from the road, in fact it's usually why we rebirth, over many lifetimes we have to find the truth. 
there may be many of these but there is only one truth.
my truth as it stands is i know nothing and everything, everything and nothing. i speak with angels, they speak to me, i write. i smoke weed and i love my friends and have a healthy positive outlook upon the natural world and the vast realm of intelligence in the universe, i'm disappointed by humanity, we should be better, we need to be better collectively, yet as individuals i am always lifted by the art people generate, the writing, the music and the film always moves me, the really good stuff can change my consciousness, challenge me and stimulate me towards transcendence but it's a challenge to get away from valuing the maya and investing in kindness and love and freedom to be true to ourselves but once we know it, movement may shift away from our preprogrammed selfish desires. 
towards the end of the process you let go of all power and control, you let go of your thoughts that are just fleeting bytes of information, the brain lets go of it's memories, the heart let's go of its beating memory, the soul remembers what it remembers, the stuff that sustains it, and thus you loose all that's not real anyway. 

HGA is a process of surrendering, it's basically what religions attempt to organise but it requires little in the way of creed and hierarchy. it requires that you don't eat meat, you are away from society, you generate love towards everything and you devote your attentions to the spirit of the universe for at least 6 month. 

the process works but there are other processes, these angels have been with us all our lives, they are familiar to us, we just have to remember to remember that we forgot how to remember them. 
memory is a trap as much as a tool, intuition is a subtle form of memory, finely tuned to the spirit.
short cuts to this are trauma, shamanic plants and near death experiences. however if your lucky enough to have seen a burning bush and hear the voice of some disembodied octopus god directing you then i guess only you can trust what it's intentions are. 
which is why i adopted the old phrase, 'know thyself' because the interior landscape is filled with surprises, one must abandon shame, fear and guilt to a certain extent, the fool would not hold on to these qualities lest he no longer be a fool, however one does require the ability to be responsible if you have unconditional responsibilities, i.e. children, work commitments, partners needs, pets, however don't let this deter you, focus your dedication upon them, the universe knows your intentions as do angels.
i think when the process ends the fool joins the deck and another major archetype will appear somewhere down the timeline, the process is cosmic and the journey quite long, sometimes you stop and have a rest for a few years but it's always there wanting to have a meaningful relationship. that's the thing about the tarot, it's part of our (para)phycology, these forces are born and rise and influence or lay dormant,
after the experience of contact it's only natural to indulge in worldly pleasure and whatever... turns you on, it's okay because there is no judgement other than your own that ultimately matters, you have insider knowledge of what's good and bad, what's right and wrong, harm no one, i think sums it up well, it took me a while to work that one out. i always thought self destruction was a path, it's not really a path to anywhere unless you evade it. harm no one works.

so with access to some strange information its best not to abuse it, keep your angel fed with love and feed its spirit regularly with some thing creative, it loves your creative offerings, it loves the dedications of kind acts towards the natural realm, towards the spirit realm, it respects these more than we would respect money or treasures, for the angels operate in a very different realm, less dense, a different kind of tension, these energies also exist with a duality therefore they have their counter energies, but these are weak impotent energies that make pacts with the ego which in itself is weak and impotent. 
sure play with the imps, they need love, understanding and acknowledgement to, that's why they exist so you can set them free, dedicate that act to the higher energies and you will find some peace.

early morning terrible beach (that's just stuck in my mind now) the handful of dedicated swimmers and dawn surfers are out and we catch beautiful waves, some people watch me with my fin, they crowd around me asking questions, they all seem enthusiastic to buy one, i joke with them, they seem happy and relaxed, a community, surprisingly i'm immediately accepted and as the set comes rolling in they marvel as i surf the waves with my beautiful blue fin. they applaud, this is very strange, it has never happened before, mind you the wave i rode was a beauty and i caught it perfectly, my body propelled along and as i pushed down my head lifted right out of the water, rocketing to the shore line.
later i shower and go read the newspaper arts sections, nothing much to read in there except a piece on orwell in burma and his book 'burmese days' which i remember being fascinated by as it sat in my parents library with an orange cover and that picture of that buddhist monk sitting behind the colonial british pith helmet.

the book was possibly the first experience i had that i an recall where i began to hate the british empire and all it's pomp and superiority complex over its colonies. i must have been 13 but i had already grown attached to indians over cowboys so the leap to disliking the empire was always there. it's ironic because my father hated india when the british left, i know it must have been turbulent but all nations have to go through some identity crisis and the earlier they do it the better in the long run, i mean england never had a revolution and look at it now, on the brink of social collapse, tension everywhere. orwell was a great journalist but he was also a good writer, he wrote two of the most important books ever written, animal farm and 1984, he wrote them as a response to fanaticism he experienced from the extreme left but it could have easily been written about the right. orwell recognised how power worked, he knew the disenfranchised were exploited by those in control and how methods of control can be used to destroy all hope, even love as smith finds out in 1984. but issues of control run through most of his books, even down and out in paris and london' deal with people who have no control over their economic status, and how they are forced to suffer at the hands of those who wield power, the themes are in most of his work. a good short read is his essay, 'shooting an elephant' where orwell himself acknowledges he is just a puppet himself, at the mercy of forces he can't seem to control, although nowadays there is no excuse not to. 
that's the main problem with control and power, everyone following their orders without thinking about them. that's the zombie horde, following instructions some bureaucrat invented, we are all guilty of it to an extent but most people are unconscious to it, ask a police officer or a public servant, 'oh no, we have to follow policy.'
that's the problem, it makes people kill other people without thinking, it makes people control other people without thinking and it makes you controlled without thinking. 
but the other side to this is can you handle being free?
most people can't, and most switched on people make a compromise, and that's okay, i've done it to. that's what makes consensus reality, but it also creates situations where populations starve so we can eat, animals suffer so we can eat, children are slaves so we can eat and buy cheap products from china, i mean does anyone boycott china because of the falong gung practitioners whose organs are harvested, fuck we just had the olympic games there, the supermarkets are filled with shit from china, the whole of australia sells its coal to china, we don't care about falong gung organs as long as we can get a cheap tv set from a factory where children work 60 hour weeks and get paid peanuts. so we all compromise, empire still exists, it's in our fucking supermarkets and high streets, in shipping containers and ships of the coast, orwell would find modern life as strange as he found his times, but he would have would have been shocked at how deluded we are, how we lie to ourselves, how we compromise on even denial. 
he shot the elephant, he had no choice but i know it would have changed him, it would have hunted him for the rest of his life, that's why he wrote 1984 and animal farm, it's hard to tell who is human these days. 

evenings at mission control i was wandering around the garden, checking my plant life when the fern spirit appeared, a green energy of strange knowledge and lore, you couldn't really see it clearly, it just manifested on peripheries, keeping itself elusive but its presence was obvious to me. those insects were making a racket, bleating away layer upon layer, i don't know what their score was, sex drive of sound, what a palaver all to attract a mate, it's a strong drive.
so the fern spirit is all dancing ethereally like something from yeats ireland and years long vanished. 
'what the fuck are you doing in my garden' i said.
i was somewhat bewildered it should decide to appear unannounced and in the middle of nowhere.
the fern spirits speak in whispers, information carried on the slight breeze, it's random if you hear what they say but i was fortunately standing upwind and the words were very clear, 'use some of that nitrogen fertiliser man, seaweed nutrition, we're jonesing for it.'
'uh yeah, okay, i can do that. whats the deal with that suff, you get high or something?'
'it's good shit mission, just score us some and we will see your okay.'
now i'm happy to help the plant world in whatever way i can, it's fucking duty bound as far as i am concerned but the fern spirit seemed to have an unhealthy addiction to my seaweed fertiliser, and as i attempted to catch a glimpse of him, i noticed he was a shifty looking spirit, with dubious motives that seemed to escape his form, but a deals a deal so i gave him an evening shot of seaweed fertiliser, i watered it down in a watering can and offered the fern a dose.
we all got needs i guess.

when i stayed at kate's place, after my radox bath i fell into a deep sleep and had a dream, vivid, detailed, colourful and dramatic.
i was at my parents place, it was a new modern apartment somewhere hot and lovely, overlooking a beautiful beach and ocean. both my parents were expecting guests, a single mother they wanted to introduce me to with hopes some romantic spark may ignite, she arrived with her young child and we were now waiting for her ex husband to turn up with his new wife and young child. 
i was kinda detached laying on the floor reading my book while everyone else prepared a big meal around a long marble table. i did get up to stretch my legs and look out the massive sliding door which was made of a big sheet of glass.

a huge wave came rolling up the beach, it stopped just outside the flat under where i was standing. we must have been on the first or second story. the next wave came really close, and i just slid the door closed fast enough to stop the whole apartment from being flooded. 
everyone gathered around, the water cleared leaving a trail of debris. i opened the door once more, it slid easily open on slick silent runners. we looked out at the devastation, no signs of life. then another wave seemed to rise out of the ocean, and it was bigger than anything, i pushed the door closed and locked it shut, i pushed everyone to the back and made them lay down, peeking out i could see the ocean moving out from where it had been and lifting itself towards us. i woke up.

usually when i dream of tidal waters it means something vast is about to rock my world, sometimes it's a positive thing, ayahuscia came to me in a dream, in the form of a tidal wave that left avalon muddy sand. i only see that with hindsight, my south american friend and i trapped in the surf club, locking on to one another knowing our number was up.
years later ayahuscia came to avalon and swept through the suburb transforming everything via death and rebirth.
maybe its time to start some new project, record new music, i feel dutifully inspired. 

i have the surfing spirit, it's not like i surf big waves or look for thrills, i just like the surf, body surfing with my hand fin, splashing around in the ocean focuses everything, sorts my fucking strange multi mind out, brings it back to an elegance i appreciate, it's like getting a car serviced i imagine, but for the soul.
i had a late night, there are dramas afoot in my work domain that are extremely stressful and precarious, who knows what could occur but there battlelines are being drawn. it appears the client i case manage has inherited a lot of money from his father whom i was very fond off, an old blind veteran who was getting his house in order and making sure his son was taken care off, he always said to me, 'don't worry, i'll make sure he's okay.' 
i had no idea he was leaving an insane amount of money for his son, in a trust account. it's a lot of money and his mother wants it. suddenly she's popped up out of the woodwork, the whiff of money has driven her mad and she's doing almost anything she can to get her hands upon it, including using her solicitors to subpoena all my case notes going back a decade and being extremely rude to myself and my colleagues, in fact it became so ridiculous i have had to intervene and cross a line i never wanted to cross but i refuse to have anyone, no matter how old being rude to me and making up allegations that i stop my client from contacting her. he's a complex case, he never spoke to his father much either, i can't force him to the phone, but i do encourage him to call, we all do. 
the solicitors are looking through the case notes attempting to find a reason why he should be moved out of the unit and give financial control to his mother.
the problem is he does not want to move out, if he did we would support him but he's very dependant on stability and security of his environment, it keeps his thinking safe, to move him would be wrong and not in his interests.
but the solicitors dont care about his interests, their agenda is to get their hands on the cash, i think i'm facing a huge battle in the next year over this, my own dept, won't offer any support, the managers are all cowards and useless, they hide their heads in the sands. 
yesterday i rang up some manager and told her the situation, i spelled it out to her in an uncompromising way. 
i think the whole dept has a red light that flashes when i ring em, they know i'm dangerous, i shake em up and because i know my stuff they do eventually take heed, then about a year later they punish me for it. that's the way it has always been with these clowns, i'm not fussed, i always think, fuck you dept, i don't work for you, i'm here to support the people i support, not your useless fucking management and managers. 
anyways, the heat is closing in, soon i will have to meet with the parties and lay down the law.

i'm having a hard time letting go of that memory, that's the one i'll carry with me for as long as i can. 
can you imagine that? i don't even know why it's so important but it feels very special, its some karmic thing i always intuitively think. 
i guess its stupid me even writing but i love him and his many arts. its given me so much nourishment over the course of my life, that kinda creativity has surpassed even bowie whom i idolised for a long time when i was in london and berlin, but he had that awful lets dance period in australia, while the church were on the ascent somewhere out there in london where i watched old grey whistle test and heard them. i guess they were both equal in influence over me 
but very different ways, whereas bowie imprinted upon me deeply as a teenager bowie also let me down with his malarky in disco land, i'm not talking young americans period which was indeed brilliant, i'm talking 'let's dance' disco period! 
the church have remained true to some spiritual element which exists in their work. i use the word spiritual in a very loose way, read into it what you will, but it's the real church, a spiritual music, there's more experience and wisdom and intelligence and imagination in one song than there is within anything else i can think to listen to, and then steve collaborates, paints, acts and writes and tells stories and jokes does impressions equally as brilliantly, on the spot, man i wish you could see the 'zimmer jacket' story or hear it, it's not just hearing the story it's steve is acting it, you don't often see that kinda theatre in a theatre even. i have i seen steve act in lots of plays, he did a merchant of venus beach once that was magnificent, and van camper is fucking brilliant to, so my thing is with all the talents and gifts steve kilbey is a beautiful creative spirt in the world. he's always been someone i followed whereas i left everyone else behind me. 
i do occasionally listen to a random non church band in the car, just to keep me coming back to the church, no, that's not fair, i listen to a lot of other music, i like obscure london post punk bands, classical music, music i gen get lost in i guess but there's other types, i like xtc, hawkwind, massive attack, be bop delux, iggy pop, shriekback, talking heads, eno, patti smith, kate bush and bob dylan, the velvets and maryvin gaye, i love grace jones and faithless, i like heaps of stuff, but these days i only play the church at home. and in particular the new kilbey kennedy cd, it's got everything one would need, it's like the dark side of the moon through a black hole, 'songs from the real world.'
it's the perfect cd. the way it was made and the way it sounds,it's beautiful positive intention but it feels like love, it's a loving intention that you fall in love with. 
that is this music!
it's the writers music, novels will be written, film made, peoples music, painters music, creative switched on people, all over the world will just fall in love with the spirit of this music and create something inspired, that's the beauty in this music, it's exactly what genesis is all about, once you take out the junk, it's about the spirit of creation. vishnu into dreaming it up, jesus turns it into love, buddha  lets it go.   

you gotta let go of all things, we all know this, even the beautiful moments pass but having a song dedicated to me, then playing 'keeper', steve, being generous with his herbs and humour and humility, sam just being there, i'm so glad you guys found one another, i really love that about the universe the way it brings people together, those scientists will never get it, it's the realm of poetry and i love you both very much.
it's a strange old world but it's really intelligent and we just have to acknowledge it, imagine that, if we all listened to it, tuned in to being free from constructs of the mind and opened up to all sorts of cosmic energies and dimensions, even a tree if you feel earthbound, waves, the wind, a zebra..it's eternal, inner and outer, space rock... 

...the church, steve's music, steve and his co- collaborators, they all have this quality. i'm listening to 'songs from the real world' all the time now, it's such a positive energy, a good intention out there, lots of good intent from lots of different people, that's what we really need, it's going to save us all. our own minds are the weapons of peace and construction, just master it i guess. turn it to what you love and nourishes your spirit and do that till you die and most of your life can be a good intention, that's the cosmic ray gun humanity is potentially and we know money is bullshit, politics is bullshit, religious structures are bullshit control and power are bullshit. imagine sending love out into the universe as a concept that will touch anything it meets it, like a cosmic christianity without any bullshit, st. peter was wrong but st kilbey is right, ha. 
i'm very struck by 'eternity' the music is perfect, i love that energy, the singing is coming from somewhere inside steve's head and heart, it's such a powerfully sung song, does that make sence?  yes, it does.
it is powerfully sung, the inflections, the lyrics, the delivery, all come at you with precise precision, he's telling you something profound in short statements and each statement is like a philosophic spear. you gotta consider eternity sometime.  it don't get cooler than this song in my book.
however, it's fair to say each song is unique in it's own way, the uniting principle is they are commissioned and the care and love and consideration the musicians have put into this is remarkable. this is thing of beauty, whoever hears this, if they are listening will feel it.

yesterday seems like it was last year and the day before even further away from me, but these days were very special days and whatever time makes them distant the quality of them remains fresh and new.
i recall waking up early friday morning, meeting my animal responsibilities with the kind of joy reserved for the saints of the world, catching a train to bondi lost in the last few chapters of 'the sacred history', time devolved into the beauty of truth and the radiance of a perfect sydney day, catching a bus down to the beach, meeting my friend dominique for a coffee and both of us feeling the attraction of the force from the surf, we acknowledged without words we are linked by invisible thread and the mark of the tao on our skins in exactly the same place, man the conditions were supreme in sydney's most famous landmark. i was at total peace, no time existed, opened right up like a ripe peach to the universe. i could have played all day like a dolphin reborn but dominique had an appointment so i spent an hour hanging out in the bookshop in the city where again time dissipated, oh how i love bookshops, abbeys in particular where ascending the short flight of steps lay a 'galaxy' aka the science fiction bookshop of this city. 
i wander through the isles, my eyes scan and assess the volumes of interesting stuff, these days im very selective about what i read, it has to be excellent and i finally find a volume of gene wolfe's duloagy, 'latro in the mist' about a roman mercenary who while fighting in greece suffers a head injury which allows him to see and interact with the gods until each night he sleeps and forgets his past, yes a little like myself perhaps. 
i spend some time downstairs, i come away with a book by churban on freemasonry. churban wrote some very well researched books on the gnostics and the systems they use, he also wrote the best crowley biography so he comes with good credentials. 
reconnecting with dominique we have an amazing vegan malay lunch in a strange new asian area we discovered  in the labyrinth of side streets near the george street cinema and a lovely evening stroll down to the rocks for the kooky markets where i met a long lost friend minty, fated to be, as we have been orbiting one another for years. 
i alsways bump into someone when i am out, it's bizarre, no matter where i travel someone will find me.
then dominique and i ended up in a club, with 'good' soft music playing at a level people can still hold a conversation without struggling, sitting in a fur lined white room with a smoke machine and soft purple and pastel lights changing slowly, with a group of people talking about their travel experiences. dominique plays host, she's very good at it, engaging everyone, drawing out their stories and extracting some embarrassing tales of woe and near misses. 
dominique is canadian, malay and hawaiian but lives in germany, she's tattooed and pierced, intelligent and sophisticated, deeply spiritual, she's got the face of an old friend. 
we head back wandering through the streets of the city, i watch people dressed up as gangsters molls, in xmas party outfits, acting crazy before the night has even begun, alcoholic spirits swirl everywhere looking for weak hosts to devour, lives to destroy. sydney is a heathen, a hedonistic whore, built for pleasure, it has no esoteric history or depth, it's statues are pointless tributes to pointless things, some of the buildings like the new 'toaster' have no imagination, they are the function of some weird scheme to generate money, no beauty, no connection to soul or spirit but it's glamourous and sexy and has a certain shallow appeal i can't help but flirt with.
i train it home, arriving at 3am where i fall into a deep sleep, waking up around 12 noon i leave for work.
i have to drive into the city and take my clients for a walk around glebe and later a meal but a number of people come over and start talking to me, it's my aboriginal tee shirt, they shake my hand and looks surprised when i tell them i'm not aboriginal, a hungarian man refuses to let me go, he wants to show me his book on languages but i have to cut him short, i have hungry clients whom are impatiently looking as though they could become aggressive at any moment.
after work i return to the city and stay the night at kate's, she's such a lovely host, she has even made spinach pie and around midnight i have a radox bath and the tension leaves my body. i fall into a bed and sleep claims me faster than i can turn out the bed light.
in the morning wilde child arrives and we all head off to canberra to see our man sk and his partner sam. 
wilde one shows me how to use the gps called 'tom'
but tom apparently takes things into its own hands and directs us further south than necessary, through lovely coastal towns until we stop in a town called bury and reassess our coordinates, drink coffee and buy some fantastic cakes. bury is beautiful, pristine sleepy town where everyone seems happy and peaceful but time pushes us forwards while they are pushed back, it's a strange tension. 
we drive through kangaroo valley, listening to vivaldi and handel, looking at trees and the sun's rays that pass through the leaves, we look at the clouds, we look at the land curve and bend and twist, homes from emily bronte country, large estates with acres of land sprawling out, majestic cows, sheep and goats, crows follow us, ravens and jackdaws wait upon posts as we gaze at the mountains and rocks, we glimpse the heavens, it's all so beautiful. 
on the freeway wilde child and i realise we need to buy tickets for tonight as it may have sold out, the clock is ticking and we may be somewhat later than first anticipated unable to buy them at the door, but fortunately we can buy tix over the internet which we do.
when we get to canberra sk awaits, he tells me he waited for us to arrive before going onstage. i wonder if that's true or is he just being polite, i don't think sk's ever one to 'just' be polite, i feel somewhat touched he would wait but he and sam have always been good to me, always made us feel special. the lady at the door offers to refund our money as sk has put us on the guest list but we feel indebted enough and we would always choose to support our friend whenever we can. it's why i never burn church cds for anyone. go buy them, these people need to be paid, they are not rich like the stones or bowie, they don't have any other way to generate money and they make beautiful music and art for the world to appreciate. it's important to acknowledge and reward it.
inside the alternative bookshop we manage to stand at the back where we have good views and the sound is excellent. steve launches into his set, and tells us it's the 'skccs' the steve kilbey christmas canberra special and proceeds to play some of his best songs, yeah i have head them hundreds of times, live, solo and with various bands he preforms with, and of course with the church but when you see sk play solo it's something very unique.
it's from a time that came and went long ago, a time where people channelled their spirits and muses and had no real idea of how they would preform, a time before slick stage managed precision met showbiz, this is not showbiz, yeah it's entertaining but there is something else at work, spontaneity, celebration of the sprit of art, an interaction with an audience that exchanges on various levels, engagement and challenges, it's very funny to watch steve chat and talk his way through, between his songs. he speaks like no other musician, he talks about the heydays of the church as though he was detached from it all, he makes you laugh but at the same time you feel sad by the fact the church seemed to blaze a trail but always be under acknowledged and under paid or ripped off for their experiences, he is respected by most good musicians, writers, creative people, every one seems to have been influenced by something he has done, he thwarted fame whilst almost at odds with it, never sold out way before it was fashionable to never sell out, in fact even that is a marketing strategy these days. the one thing sk had that no one else matched was his authenticity, that's the jewel in the crown for artists as well as everyone else. you can never be happy until you are true to yourself.
plus we must not forget his songs, these were spells he once said, and they were spells for me, i don't know how that works, it's magick, i heard it, i felt the spell at work, it only ever happened with the church, and the waterboys to an extent, i must have tuned in to that frequency and something in me activated.
the result is more than 30 years later i'm still watching sk play these songs and they sound as vibrant and refreshing as the first time i heard them, tonight sk palys guitar with ease snd confidence, his style refined and more comfortable than ever but his vocals have reached a new level as well, and it's impossible to not be impressed as he soars through and reads the hilarious 'zigger jacket' which sounds better than ever as steve races through the drama to the tragic conclusion. 
so at the beginning of the second set when sk mentions he has a friend 'captain mission' in the audience who really likes this next song and dedicates 'keeper' to me, i'd be lying if i said my eyes didn't tear up. 
i was deeply touched, moved would not be an understatement. i don't feel like this often, it really felt like christmas had come.

yeah old captain mission driving home at 5am in the morning after one of the best nights, happy as a clam, drives straight to terrigal beach and throws himself into the ocean, sunlight blazing on the horizon, it feels like a baptism of sorts, maybe just another regular day but most defiantly my soul was nourished and my spirit set ablaze and i needed the surf to remind me the best is yet to come. god blessed me, i know this now, how i ended up in australia, how i ended up making my  own music, writing and seeing the church play time after time and catching steve playing all those solo shows, how i am healthy, happy and at peace with the universe how i have such lovely friends. these are blessings, and though time may ravage my flesh and bone, my memories will always be very rich.

jonathan black has nailed it to, he gives very accurate descriptions of the other mystical ideas of  initiation into other dimensions and layers or emanations of the universe or multi-verse or god or whatever you wanna call it, whatever it is it does have vast intelligence and beauty and grace, lot's of love (hate is so stupid) and yes it has some terror and fear but those are just states that are based in dense matter. i hope when i die i take a cosmic approach, i'm certain i will, what a great joy you must hold in your heart, you have to let go of everything and follow the intelligence and beauty and love, the rest is a distraction, don't get me wrong, i'm easily distracted, usually by the females of the species, you don't have to be a scientist just meet your angels on the way, i guess, or at least taken some mescaline.

steve makes music with great musicians and i think martin kennedy is such a brilliant visionary in his music, hear it for yourselves, it's a beautiful intention in words and music, beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.
click this link : http://www.kilbey-kennedy.com/

all things emanate from the source, with each decent the greater the solidification into matter, yet within matter there is the divinity of the source, its feminine principle. nothing convinces me of this more than the search for the self in a partner, don't we all seek someone who 'gets' us, don't we all seek our double. don't you yearn for an aspect that connects us on a deeply profound level over the basic sexual impulse, is it not love that acts as gravity, influencing our spiritual trajectory. love is the force that pulls and pushes us towards the truth, lust although it has its place, can only direct us in other directions. 

it's the end of the day, a long day as i worked through the night and have not really slept yet, but i did clear some rocks and do some gardening. 
the garden looks great, i'm going to have to post some pictures and show you, i seem to spend a lot of time shaping it and maintaining it, its wild out in the bush, the birds are amazing and now the insects are making themselves known. what a sound, it's really cool despite my fear of certain bugs. 
i have a moth phobia, convinced it's from another life but unable to recall anything from it, just the present response is so overwhelming it manifests in my body, i freeze, my heart starts beating really fast, the hairs on my neck and arms rise and i'm not in a state of mind i want to stay in, the feeling when it comes over me is akin to terror, irrational terror.
i only get it with moths, butterflies i am very cool with but moths freak me. their erratic flying, horrid dusty trail and dusty wings and those dreary colours. its a weird phobia right? 
i saw a great film called, 'now you don't,' which was about four young stage magicians who pull of some amazing tricks, the film twists and turns a little, but it's very good if you want to loose yourself for a while and i enjoyed everything, the cast, the soundtrack and the story an excellent film.

surf conditions are perfect, large waves with enough power to knock you off your feet as they pummel in sets, i get out fast using the rip to pull me out the back of the white messy chop. 
my feet find a sand bank and i use this to launch myself with my fin, oh yes, this is what i was born for. 
while being carried along i align my chakras, it's a new idea i developed as part of my surf yoga exercises. 
you activate all chakras and as you ride visualise a line through them, and channel a white light along it. i go from base up but you could go from crown down, depending on your needs.
the white light should assist you attain a straight posture, use the spinal chord as a guide as you catch the wave and within its energy i open my self, expanding my aura through the world to receive healing or information, or just joy and love. here the aura is a blast exploding outwards or inwards, like a light casting itself unto everything, the body is dissolved.
try it.

the sacred history is mind blowing. 
i love it, johnathan black, you legend!
readers please go buy this one, read with an open mind.
i'm imprinting largely upon it in the strangest of ways, i feel like i've always known this, and now i'm getting the blanks filled in, the details and the strokes. yeah it's a cosmic picture, beautiful and real to me, i've come home, it puts science in its place, gives the dawkins of the world some intelligent counterclaim that they cannot disprove but know it's true. that's the thing about the truth, it feels right!
i'm savouring each chapter, and i wanna explain it all here but if you read back through my ravings you will know already. it's strange how my only criticism of 'the secret history' was there was no magick mentioned, it was alluded to but mr. black never actually used the word and stopped at mysticism but i do feel he's crossed a bridge or journeyed through a portal or two, and is acknowledging magick at work as a force. this is very important because magick and science belong entwined, they seemed to have split apart so far and now, it's just the fringe dweller scientists who suspect, those that consider the quantum universe would have to understand it to a point.
it's nice to meet another through a book let alone the author, or at least connect with him. i like his brain in the same way i like steve's, through his music and words, i can't define it or understand it in a rational way because it's just feels nourishing and brings up images of past lives and the future, and the present in a big cosmic picture. that's all i'm going for these days, not that i want to hack or crack it, i just want to play in it and rejoice in everything. as i have said before, magciks secret lies in, 'not using it for anything at all.'

of course one eventually has to find their limits to the material world, it's solid after all, you can't pass through it, you have to build a bridge over it, to get to the spiritual world. in my dixlexik madness i was pondering the ark of the covenant in the old testament said to contain the stone tablets of the law moses received directly from his god. i was thinking about how individuals seek spiritual nourishment and enlightenment by following their own path as directed by the universe therefore the bridge one walks would be different to the bridge of another individual into the spirit world. 
this is where organised religious dogma fails and perhaps it's not an ark after all, it's an arc. and further, perhaps it's not the arc of the covenant but the covenant of the arc. this is the HGA process, follow strict spiritual discipline in isolation, in body mind and spirit purity and love after 40 years or now 6 months in the desert or wilderness, receive wisdom or information from your guardian angel. moses must have been at the syrian rue, followed his guides and voices until he found himself tapping into higher authorities and encoded his tablets of laws, bringing to man the first idea of universal law in it's primitive commandments. however it was a good organising principle, it motivated a people to seek a god.
of course none of this is new, it comes from sumerian mythology which probably came from atlantis or lumeria, it don't really matter in origin, because it comes now as it did before, in a coat of many colours. 
maybe the ark noah build wasn't a material boat after all, maybe it's the idea that in every man is the dna strand of all life, and the arc was the bridge noah crossed to receive this information as i have certainly come to believe in previous blog entries i rave on about dna being the dominant life form on earth not the individual creatures, for we separated with knowledge, the fall was not into sin or a moral deficit, it was into false information, the idea that we are separate from nature, the genesis of all our sins. once we make our arc, we regain that contact, we have true wisdom, and it will serve us. 
we can talk with the animals, birds come, fish will know us, dogs lick our hands and the water dragons run towards us with joy in reuniting spirit. the flowers and the trees bloom, and the wind whispers our invisible name. 
    

i must return to the garden, i like it a lot, at the moment it's making an indistinct unique sound, a little drum and bass in nature, it's very rhythmic, it's loud, like i have headphones on. i like it, it's calling...
these days i feel like a writer, i really am just writing, that's all i ever wanted to do, and now i've written i feel like i should stop and paint a painting. 
i'm trying to express myself in multitudes of ways in some ultimate expression, what does that mean? growth, development, exploration, all calling me. 
there's so many forces and angels at work, it's such a diverse universe, intelligence everywhere waiting to meet us, engage, play, i have to say, reading mr. blacks book has been devoured by my subconscious, it's brilliantly filled with magick, well done mr.black, you're the bees knees! 
i'm loving reading and learning from it, you're connecting dots for me and it's a great sign post on my journey, i salute you.
please readers, buy it, read it and make your own mind up. its the present i want to buy ALL my friends this xmas. 
i can't fucking afford to, curses! but i am begging you all, please drop everything and read this book.  

you have to laugh, about an hour after the last post i was visited upon by invitation to an old friends 60th on the same day as i wish to be in canberra, can't be in two places at once. 

the angel of paradox, canberra or bust! that's my trajectory, what archangel michael giveth cannot be taken away by the angel of paradox! 

while all this was happening the angel of death turned up on the seven thirty report in the form of a doctor philip nitschke, i wasn't sure about my stance on euthanasia but i saw a very compassionate man and people who genuinely wanted an alternative exit strategy.