t'was a blustery day when old captain mission found himself raiding the kitchen cupboards for some maluka honey, it's unfathomable where it all goes, he thunked to himself aloud.
trusty hound dog pan looked at him sheepishly, face tilted slightly away, eye's looking at the old captains face. 
just then there was a knock at the door.
'who could that be pan, it's far to early for visitors.'
at the door stood ghost lemur. 'sorry to trouble you, but we have a problem in the garden that requires some attention.'
'in the garden, mmm, sounds like i may need to put my boots on.'
mission followed ghost along the trail at the side of mission control around the cactus plants to the tropical garden where the tall sunflowers bent under the wind, the massive leaves of the elephant plants shivered and shuddered, the banana palms and ferns danced. on the small patch of grass stood libertaria's mortal enemy, the dreaded bush turkey.
he looked defiantly as he stomped around, digging up the ground, scratching and squealing like a hideous demonic beast. 
the captain reached for his trusty weapon but in haste he had forgotten it, the creature spread it's horrible wings and mocked the friends with a loud guttural laugh, 'you pussies, ha ha ha!'
ghost looked at the captain for an answer, pan weaved behind him peering out from my legs. i looked around for a stick or anything i could throw at this predatory beast from hades. 
nothing.
it spread it's wings again, like one of hose birds that stole bridget bardot in the cave man movie. and then to compound the situationalist nightmare two smaller bush turkey's flew down. babies!
we stood our ground, 'you can't intimidate us with your anarchist attitudes and violent indifference towards cultivating sanctuary,' mission says proudly.
the birds fall about laughing, almost like those crows in walt disney films. 
mission expects them to burst into a song, some wretched tune about poor old captain mission taking on the turkey's but suddenly there's a flurry of activity, some burst of colour and the turkeys are under attack from three pairs of parrots, two black cockatoo's and some kookaburras.
it happens so fast ghost, pan and mission step back in surprise.
'ha, take that heffalumps and woozles.'
in a matter of moments there's only a few black feathers laying upon the grass and no other signs of the dreadful prehistoric creatures.
mission wanders past and notices the dragon sitting atop a rock, 'morning mission, i see you have the situation under control.'
'morning dragon, yeah, but you better watch out, it's going to be a blustery old day.'
dragon scurries away, his red belly flashes.
one by one the creatures return to their homes, mission and trusty companion pan return to the kitchen.
now what are we going to do about the maluka situation,' the captain says to himself.

  

      

the new church cd is the singularity in captain missions universe, it's perfection. each track has it's own quality, each song has it's own way of wrapping itself into that church part of me, the frond of a fractal. it's configured in the most richest of qualities, from the absolute perfection of musicianship and lyrics, tim's brilliant beats and hits, he has a quantum rhythmic chip in his wetware, a drummer who pulls rabbits out of (high) hats. the vocal styles, and there are many as steve shifts from voice to voice, and never has it sounded so good, especially that attitude that kicks through. for me that's the voice of someone worth listening to. each harmony a labyrinth, further deeper, yeah man this is the mirror to priest = aura where the further slashes deeper and the production to the fabulous unknown qualities the church embody as spirit are homage to the limbless spirits of rock and roll. i can't review it, only offer fleeting glimpses into the songs, so let's start with some personal impressions.


vanishing man - the opening song holds nothing back, steve's vocals kick down the door, the styles shift gears, the lyrics have that hostile intensity and delivery that commands respect. it was a few minites in to this one and i knew i would adore this album unconditionally. the guitars tango away but it's the vocals that grab by by the throat and throttle you in that killer style, 'watch your back.. .pilgrim.'  
one thing about this as an opener is you know the the man from powerfinger, ian huag has added some new magick to the church, something really interesting and intelligent, and that sk has excellent intuition.

laurel canyon - reminds me of avalon beach my old haunt. same kind of energy. a love song with a twist. the church take the west coast energy and pull it through steve's incredible words. it's a church song but this church is so different from the last one. it's embedded with a quality of magnificence so strong i want to stick my nose in and snort it. simply beautiful.   

volkano - intimate communication to comrades, the spiritual coach, the captain, a leader offering his crew the chance to be let off at the next island or stay on the ship. the sun is in this song, the moon makes an entry and everything hangs in the balance. 

toy head - this has the cosmic groove, it's gnostic space rock. might be my fave song if it wasn't for all the others on this release, the vocals again, the lyric on a futon of skilled interplay between musicians who just know how to play and blend it, that lead break and soft lead syth guitar sound, that is it! 'the sound' i look for when i listen to music and it's all over this album. the ending of toy head is perfect to.
i have know idea what steve sings about but it reminded me of some hacks i did on myself, especially the bird references.   

miami - ah, the miami incident. steve's cinematic story telling fills my head with a early sixties faded colour, love story  written by beatnik mystic groovers in shades and paisley shirts, velvet jackets and glamourous girlfriends who smoke menthol cigarettes and have long lashes and legs. 
a kinda oblong screen with those washed out miami buildings and saturated palm trees blowing in the breeze. lots of close ups and some tripped out italian directing from a contemporary antonioni because there's that line that just changes everything, the herald line. there's gravity in this song, it pulls at the heart. 
lyrically it's a classic example of why i love steve as a writer. this has steve juggling sparse words but each one perfectly alludes to the narrative, as they paint raymond chandleresque, where less is more and each element of word perfect. and the harmonica at the end has that classical feel, here's the story people, here is the tale, it's the blues, the greens the grey, it's red and white and yellow, it's purple bleeding into azure rainbows. there's piano in this that sounds so magisterial. the guitars...heaven.


pride before a fall - well i guess people are familiar with it now, but it is a beautiful song and i wish i had heard the song in the context of the album first but what the hell, as a single it's perfect to. it just feels much better as part of the album, the flow on between the songs are just right, bringing such diverse energies together. again steve's singing is amazingly assured, he really knows how to deliver. this song has stars in it, billions and billions, it's best listened to at night time watching the night skies when those uninvited clouds are gone. 

love philtre - build me a temple, make it strong, add some stardust to your view. if god has wisdom and knows what to do. drop out, turn on, tune into you. 
to create beauty, to point to truth, 
to recognise the face of you know who
before you were even born, the sun was cast into the skies, the beings that walked could even fly, they had wings of light and were of pure mind. nothing weighed upon their heads, so generous their intention it bled into me, it set me free from everything.

globe spinning - the church re-manifest through the quantum distributer. yeah baby, its never tomorrow. mesmerising cleverness and here's a touch of david bowie but steve claims his own voice back from that little flirtation and there's some very tasty drums going on, guitars and piano. hail the vocal arrangements, genius! the changes in tone, the shifts of gears, the incredible big big big sound. nifty guitar like you have never heard before. this is my special band. no one even comes close anymore.

delirious - somewhat narcotic in sound, this penetrates under the aura, through the protective shields and then into the head. i dunno what it's about but yet again steve's vocals are brilliant. the guitars come crashing through, extraordinary musicianship here, subtle, textural and the harmonies are ecstatic. you can't really deconstruct this song at all but listen, listen deep.


let us go - ah bliss... steve doing his thing, brilliant vocals as the church bringing their classic brilliance to this song, it's mighty. something ancient inhabits this. the mythology of the church will rest on this song. pure and utterly, made from light.

old coast road - another unquantifiable song, sounds simple at first, a love song. on repeated listen it's probably the most radio friendly song on the album, however i have no idea what they play on radios these days. 

lightning white - the usual ultra evocative and pure brilliance. those words just jump out urgently, there's great percussion and drums, guitars meshing together and steve's bass throbbing away like a quasar engine travelling through hyperspace. again a song with gear changes, down this time, the shifts are descending into psychedelic guitars and sculptures. there's a slightly, 'sometime anywhere' feel.

okay first impressions, stream of consciousness. these are my thoughts. tomorrow they may change slightly but for now this remains the best album of music i have ever heard in 50 years of music, it's the best. yeah it's predictable i would say that being an obsessive fan but trust me, i owe no allegiance to anyone, and i speak the truth. i must thank the band, everyone involved with this cd. for a fan it's very difficult to find music these days that challenges, impresses, influences and means something worthwhile, there's not much out there and i seem to listen to the past a lot. yet here on further / deeper steve, tim, ian and peter have created something of magnitude, beauty and power, something that transcends. 
i can't help feel lyrically there feels like a meta consciousness at work, the most autobiographical of church albums inexplicably tied to the forthcoming autobiography 'something quite peculiar' coming out soon. 
i stayed up two nights and half a day playing the rolling stone stream and the excitement and richness is growing not diminishing. it's a beautiful creation and the church still retains the title, only band that matters. 
  

the new church album is available for a listening through the magazine rolling stone, here's the link.

http://rollingstoneaus.com/music/post/exclusive-stream-the-church-furtherdeeper/676

it's only available for a handful of days. it's he best album i have ever heard, can't even talk or write about it but if you like the good stuff buy a copy from their website, here:

http://thechurchband.net/

i'm so proud of these guys, ian is very cool, the musicianship is excellent, steve's lyrics and vocals are excellent and the energy  of this album is powerful medicine...man. love at first listen, just overwhelming love.

there's a crunching under my feet and i notice the tide has brought with it billions of bluebottle jelly fish, all dried up and forming a blue ribbon on the coastline, all the way along, glistering like discarded jewellery or crystals. there must be billions of them, these suckers have ripped into me hundreds of times, left me scared all over, arms legs, face and chest but i've built up an immunity to them, thanks to my apple cider vinegar they stay out of my way nowadays. some creatures you make pacts with, some you repel with other means.
this early morning surf is messy, lot's of chop, white water turbulence so i splash around, feeling my heart pounding, my skin tingles with some sort of soft shock, there's only an old man out there with me, he's wearing a wet suit and holding flippers, 'don't worry about the bluebottles, they won't bite.'
i smile and dive in.
i'm dissatisfied with my coffee, it's not great but i scan the paper, what a load of shit, i wish i never read it. the waitress asks where i have been all winter, 'hibernating,' i say.
i stop off at the pet shop supplies, have to restock, dog, bird, lizard and fish food. my fish need an upgrade in their diets to a very expensive japanese brand, fucking can you believe it, these fish are eating gourmet fish food, better food than me. my fish and pond man says they require this special food as they are showing symptoms of some sort of vitamin deficiency, what can i do, these fish depend on me. 
i crash out on the sofa for an hour, i watch the plants grow, i watch clouds roll by, i wait for the rain, a beautiful martin kennedy piano plays through mission control, everything feels good so i bake a cake, a lumberjack cake. i pull it out of the oven and it begins to rain.
what happened to the day, it flew by like a dream. 

in my frontal lobe quantum highway, the be bop deluxe jazz messenger is constructing a jungle made from ideas in the form of m waves and c foam, each insignificant bubble is its own universe and every unique wave is it's own god. there are no mistakes, no anomalies, no glitches or ghosts. there is no tension, no conflict, no discord in the mote of each and every atom. they never crash or collide. they are bursting out from one another like the sun itself, radiating at frequencies beyond light.

my garden grows, it blooms explosions of colours and form, technology free, this is life, abundant and rich. sustaining life sustains life. air, water, light and care, love spreads through the fronds of luxurious palms, through the root systems of subterranean ecology, through the photosynthesis in biological exchange, within energy fields, a stimulating pheromone release.

in my quiet confidence i flick through david cronenberg's novel, 'consumed,' it reads like his films, like burroughs meets ballard, where technology corrupts the human spirit, changes it physically into some new pathology, the consuming desire, for air, for water, for attention, for machine. man is married to technology, man fucks technology, technology has man by the balls, man eats technology, man becomes technology, can he transcend?
idea! is it art when technology creates art? 
idea! what happens when 3d printers start printing 3d printers?
i like cronenberg's writing style, he turns technology into pornography, creates a desire for sleek nikon digital cameras with optical perfection, for sony, canon, panasonic recorders, lenses become sexual organs, the main two characters meet in airports, fleetingly leaving messages for one another about new products they share a passion for, they are detached from one another, from almost everything they seem to encounter, living in a removed world emerged in technology and it's side effects. this book reminds me of 'crash' which looks at the sexual side effects of automobile accidents, cronenberg pulls us further into the world of sexual anomaly and reconfigured biology as it responds to the collision between sex and technology. like ballard he creates new pathology, new neurotic physiology and what appears familiar landscape transforms into the horrors of need.

    

I passed through Arizona twice in my life, both times i felt like i belonged there. 

the first outward bound journey was driving through in a sporty japanese car with two english people, they were in love so i always felt like i was the odd man out, i slept on park benches and picnic tables, under the stars while they had the tent. i saw many beautiful things in the arizona night. we drove around listening to english dub music, we stayed with gay cowboys, we smoked a lot of good weed and i took photographs of everything i could. one day i stopped the car and wrote 'nowhere' in the sand and photographed it in 360 panoramic, because we really were nowhere. i saw rocks that made a girl i met have an orgasm when she saw them for the first time. i saw the grand canyon and was overwhelmed with awe... the understatement of 'grand,' it's fucking massive! 
i saw snakes, termite mounds and lizard kings and queens. i saw petrified forests, fossil kingdoms, the remnants of a great indigenous culture, i saw shooting stars. i saw infinity in arizona and i loved it. 

the homeward bound trip, i was 18 years old, hitch hiking my way around the west, i'd run out of cash along the way, living on my wits cross country by greyhound to newark, new jersey. i'd been living down in mexico and managed to get back to california to catch the old classic greyhound experience. 
that was the last of my cash, i had an air ticket back to london and four days to kill.
somehow i'd fallen in with a bunch of desperadoes, they gravitated to me like i was a writer and they were characters in my next book. one was a biker and i bonded with him immediately, he was the american hero of some twisted folk tale, righteous and indifferent to authority rules and regulations, he had the taste of freedom and was hanging on for as long as he could, before he succumbed to an american middle class wipe out. 
the other was on the run from a cult of people he had escaped from out in the barren californian desert, he was panicked and nervous, said people were looking for him, but the biker and i told him we would keep him safe. he fell asleep and for the next few hours i chatted with the biker and heard his tales of bikes vs women. i never thought to ask him where his bike was or his woman, but i sort of knew he'd lost both and it was the bike he missed most. 
the bus gradually filled up and i found myself sitting next to a large black guy who told me he was a minister. i was squished against the window, my body crumpled like discarded tissue paper, all i wanted was a hot shower and a good feed. it had been several days since i had eaten so i'd slumped into a deep sleep.
when i awoke the desert rolled by and i was amazed at the blue sky, it was almost everywhere i could see.
the minister asked me a few questions, and we fell into a relaxed conversation, he had a southern twang to his words, like a genuine texan but i can't recall exactly where he came from.
the bus pulled up at a small restaurant area and we stretched our legs, the biker and cult escapee are asleep in the bus so it's me and the preacher man. he sits on a wall with me and pulls out a big fat spliff.
'come on boy, we going to smoke this sacrament the lord provided and then ask him for some earthly sustenance.'
i looked at the spliff as he lit it and sucked it down, passing it my way, oh yeah, its smooth and beautiful and i felt my body relax as i stretched and eased into the day. it was early morning and i figured as far as breakfasts go, this was perfect but the preacher pulls me gently towards the doors. 
the hit of air con is refreshing, like walking into a cool room and it does knock you back a step, it's such a vast contrast from outside where the early morning sun is already scorching. 
i look around me, there's an array of poker machines and lonely people playing them, it must have been around 7am. the preacher sits his huge mass down upon a stool, flashes me his big grin, 'now boy, i tell you god always provides for his children and i know you are a child of the universe, so i'm going to win us some bucks and get us a mighty breakfast, okay boy, let's go.'
he slips a single coin in the machine and winks at me, pulls a lever and things start spinning, colours flash by and whatever alignments occur... we are blessed with a win. change starts spitting out at our feet, i can't quite believe it but there it is, a pile of cash at my feet.
'how did you do that?'
'the hand of god works in mysterious ways boy, ask and he will provide ask and ye shall receive.'
'it's a bloody miracle.'
we enter the big restaurant, greeted by a young waiter, 'table for two,' the priest says as we weave around the tables towards the buffet. 
later i clamber up into the bus and the guys are asking me was it worth while getting out, 'yeah it was worth it.'
i looked around but the preacher was gone, the bus drove away and i sat back in my chair thinking about how beautiful arizona was and how i'd like to stay longer, maybe meet a girl from here, some sort of navajo woman. live out some life learning a whole new way of being, deep wisdom with the great spirit but i had that calling already and it was only an echo. i loved that woman, i love arizona.
the escapee is awake now and he's excited about reaching utah, there's a gun show on there. it's in a big auditorium and he's so enthusiastic we can't resist so we end up in this huge hall, which in turn is just a huge market where they sell guns and ammo. i last two minites before i sneak away, back to the terminal. 
here i have to change buses and i think perhaps i have seen my outlaw friends for the last time, i never said goodbye, swapped numbers, just left them behind. i put my head against the side of the bus waiting for it to leave, it begins to move forwards and then someone bangs on the door, and the biker clambers aboard and plonks himself down next to me and i'm happy to see him.
'jesus, captain, almost missed my ride.'
someone on the bus has a packet of biscuits and it's being passed around. outside the salt flats pass us by. 
we are in philadelphia when the bus crashes into a pick up truck, everyone on the bus lets out a collective gasp but everyone appears to be unhurt, except i can see the biker soaking in the information, gears in his mind calculating the possible outcomes, 'come on mission, just follow me, do what i do, do what i do, copy me, we will be okay, just do what i do.'
suddenly he starts yelling, 'paramedic, paramedic, get the paramedic.'
the driver is already on the radio, the biker is clutching his head, someone from a seat in front comes to assist, she scans the situation and yells to the driver, 'we need a paramedic now, this man has hurt his head.'
the driver is holding his head in his hands, he's wailing and shouting, but in between he's whispering to me, 'come on do what i do mission.'
i'm english, reserved and somewhat observing with detachment as the paramedic boards, he walks up the bus and checks out the biker, 'what happened' he asks?
'his head hit the seat in front when the bus crashed into the truck.'
'okay we're going to have to get him off the bus and to hospital, can you walk?'
the biker just stares out vacantly. a stretcher is brought to the door, and various emergency vehicles arrive, there's a bit of confusion and the biker looks at me through it all, 'mission, you should have followed me, we could get into hospital, get fed, get some great drugs, get to fuck sexy philly nurses and then we can sue the bus company.'
he's led out, moaning and groaning and in one conspiratorial wink as he steps off, leaves me to continue my journey through america. 
i get to newark airport and scavenge the terminal for food, i meet an english guy who wants me to fake a compassionate letter so he can fly home free. it's a great letter but i do feel somewhat guilty writing about how his father died suddenly, the guys been sailing around florida and needs to get out of the usa fast, i intuitively think he's involved in some bad voodoo, possibly cocaine but it's just a young mission, intuitive powers not fully honed. it's possible he was just like me, down and out, running on empty. 
we sat with some american pilots around a round table, they were drinking from a large glass orange juice container. must have held two litres of orange juice half off which was gone, all of them swigging deeply from it. when it came to me, i was surprised to find it laced with gin.
when the flights was announced over the speaker system the pilots all donned their jackets and shook our hands, they were off to fly their planes. 
eventually when i got on the plane back to london i sat with a scottish girl who bought me lunch. she was kind hearted and i was grateful, i met my dad at the airport and made him pay her for the meal. he did, unquestioning. it's one of those things you remember when your older but at the time seemed insignificant. 
i remember driving through the streets of london and thinking, it's such a small place, everything crammed together, suffocating me so unlike arizona. arizona, where the space allows freedom to breath, where the rock formations give girls orgasms, where a holy druid smokes a sacred plant and the great spirit provides.

he passed me a glass of water.
'you clearly have a case of mono sodium glutamate poisoning,' the dr. says. he looks at some x rays and scan results, 'mmm, yes particularly around the brain, it's a very bad case.'
'really, i never heard of such a thing.'
'yes the medical profession don't like to talk about it, but asian doctors are very familiar with this condition. we call it msgh, as in mono sodium glutamate head.'
'well is there a recommended treatment.'
the dr. whips out a scalpel, it gleams under the medical light and his face takes on a sinister new look. 
'yes, now just lay down, i can deal with this right now.'
'you know i've never trusted the medical model of illness, i may get a second opinion.'
'to late, to late i have to do surgery now.'
'well i have my own medicine man, i'd like to ask him before i continue.'
'you have a medicine man.'
woman actually, a healer from the amazon.'
his face distorted now, angry and malevolent, he sneers, 'women no good, amazon woman can't fix like dr. chang.'
'look, thanks, dr, i appreciate you looking but i'm going to leave it and if i decide to, i'll come straight back.'
'you no go anywhere captain mission, you drink take effect before you reach door.'
'what! this water's spiked?' 
i hold the glass up and peer into it seeing a faint cloud which is the dr's face through the glass. the face is getting more and more contorted the further it slips away.
'fuck, i hate doctors,' i manage to whisper before everything disappears.
when i awaken i'm sitting in a wheelchair in a sterile looking lounge room, a nurse is whispering 'suck suck' to me, and for a moment i am confused but then notice the straw in my mouth leads to a bottle of liquid. 'drink it up, good nutrients, help you feel much better after big operation.'
i am to weak to stand, so i suck the strange tasting liquid. i look around for a mirror, it's seems like a strange reaction but i need to see myself. have i been experimented upon, is my face the same, has he transplanted my head onto a walrus. my imagination still under the influence of narcotics takes an extreme journey into fear, panic and paranoia.
i look at my hands, the same, my feet and legs are me, and my face feels the same, i think logically. breath, one two three four, i count my breathing cycles, gradually i relax. okay drink the fucking nutrient. i suck.
gradually i begin to gain strength, the nurse is sitting quietly at my side, she's reading a book.
'what are you reading?'
'it's a medical book, transhuman experimental medicine.'
'what have you done to me? i can feel something's different, just be honest and tell me what you have done.'
'dr. change will tell you soon.'
'change, i thought his name was chang...'
'it's a common mistake.'
i make a grunting sound, part frustration and part resignation, i make a half hearted attempt to rise but my legs are slightly wobbly from the after effects of some kind of anaesthesia.
after ten minutes the nurse puts down her book, she takes my pulse, checks my heart and places a helmet over my head, then begins to watch data flow across her laptop. 
'what is that?'
'it's a fractal analysis for wetware. dr. change will explain everything in a moment.
right on cue the doctor enters, he starts to take off his white lab coat and hangs it up upon a hook, dressed in an immaculate black suit he dosn't even acknowledge me or the nurse. he looks at the charts the nurse has been keeping, and gazes into the screen with her, their faces light up as they reflect the data stream. it's almost an underwater sight as the flickering data packets float upon their faces
dr. change picks up a book from the table, 'captain mission, are you familiar with the book of changes.'
'the i ching, yes of course i am.'
'your hexagram, da zhuang 34.'
'great, i feel much better now.'
'da zhuang, with great power comes great responsibility.'
'yeah, you have me confused with spiderman, just level with me, what have you done?'
'it's pretty impressive, i made some adjustments in your brain, it has an additional component that may assist you in your journey.'
'i wasn't planning on taking a journey so just tell me, what the fuck did you do?'
the brain is a remarkable organ, it's not just a regulator and processing machine, it's a holographic filtering mechanism that determines how much reality you are given access to. under normal waking conditions you are aware of about 5% of the total information around you, once we switch it on, you will be able to control the receiving flow, the universe will literally flood into your mind. well, perhaps parts of it.'
'why would you do this?'
'we have the same enemy.'
'i have no enemy.'
'yes you do, you forget. you seem to be afflicted with a forgetting element, i think some past frontal lobe damage.'
i stood up, looked at the nurse, 'who are you people?'
'allies, friends, comrades, it cannot matter, we have done our work, all we have to do now is turn you on.'
'and what's with the i ching?'
'the i ching is an uncertainty machine, the brain is a certainty machine, we have taken out certainty for you.'
'from my brain...you took out...certainty?'
'yes, it is thanks to the hole at the hub that a wheel may turn. without the hole, it won't.'
'you chinese love your inscrutability don't you?'
'the i chings power is that it has no wisdom to impart, it means nothing, and within this is the secret of it's power. all those images and words, all random and poetic, all seeds of possibilities, the hole but not the wheel.'
'i liked it better when my head was filled with msg.'




  

the ecology moves through us, a big ocean of life as represented by baphomet the true symbol of gaia, of planetary consciousness. in ye olde days the church assumed the symbol was evil, associated with the devil or black magick, they all operated with a closed system and many people were either burnt, drowned or tortured for association. the most famous being the knights templers, who while in jerusalem discovered the big picture, through some kabbalist druids. 

it's easy to make the wrong assumption about a symbol, look at the swastika, hijacked by extremists, stolen from some cool monks from tibet and though the symbol remains the same, the meaning changes, sometimes it evolves. those that have a belief in gaia should look to baphomet, for here we have the earliest symbol of planetary intelligence, of organic holistic union, and old eliphas levi understood this which is why he incorporated it into his magical systems. it's a singularity that contains the binary universe, the wording SOLVE and COALGULA meaning 'separate' and 'join together' are inscribed upon the arms. 
it's time to reclaim the symbol and not fear it.  

a window of opportunity presents itself and i see the movie 'gone girl' at the cinema. i have the book, it's on a very large pile of unread books that i am attempting to diminish but it's just getting larger the harder i try diminishing. 

i'd somehow avoided all knowledge of this book / film despite the extensive talk about it that comes down the line. 
so i sat there at the back in a very crowded cinema watching this strange film which went on to break all the rules in story telling, it is fantastic as a thriller but also as a look at relationships, marriage and love. there's an implausibility about it but none the less it hooked me, and i watched this play out on the screen like you would an old black and white movie, or like a movie  hitchcock may have made if he had another life. i gotta say although i don't rate the lead guy ben afflek but in this he is brilliantly cast as is everyone else in the cast perfect in their respective roles. 
i don't want to talk about it to much for fear of spoiling the plot. i think it's best you see it with a blank canvass and see what you make of it. it stayed with me for days. 

when you reach yer fifties the govt. should give you a little handbook warning you about what to expect, you know those ladders and trees you used to clamber up like some clever monkey, feeling the urge to swing across rooftops, one handed juggling, defying gravity, well, give it up. the eyes begin to get all blurry when you want to read, the ears start making their own amusement up, the constant ringing of bells, telephones, alarms, sound effects that don't exist outside your own skull. the knees begin to ache and old war wounds pulse and throb in tormenting agony before the rain, it's all very disturbing. then there's hair growth, mine beyond any normal rate grows like a mutated wild mop of black curls, something from ancient times or at least the sixties. 
my hair is longer now, i gave up shaving my head to become something else. people say i look younger. i feel older looking back at myself when i was younger, that character was a weak force, now this one is stronger, inversely proportional to my psychical form. the gods must be laughing at this joke they play on us.

i have a long skype with my mother, she's telling me about the awful things the english did when they were colonising the world, they were fucking barbarians she said. it's hard not to disagree, now they are paying the price. sins of the fathers i guess, some strange karma, it gets everyone, thankfully.
i have a great respect for these laws, unwritten, beyond comprehension, they exclude judgement itself, factored into the oblique intelligence that drives the universe. everything has a karmic value, every act, deed, action, thought and intention. configure your own and the world will change for the better. the human mind can't solve the machinations of the karmic wheels but it can adjust it's influence. 

i think about a trip to the uk, i'd like to se my family, i miss jake, i miss him more than i could even begin to write. i really want to see him but will have to wait for the right moment when our planets align. i want to see my father, he's chatting to me a lot about the war, being an apocalyptic old man he knows the score, 'don't worry about it, the apocalypse is a personal event, both cause and effect, a singularity within us, spread the love, spread hope, go beyond fear, go beyond paranoia. 

it's overcast, a threat of rain as black clouds immerse the skies. all nature hangs in wait, birds frozen in flight, animals still. expectation, a pre storm breeze blows through the garden as the fronds of my ferns and palms dance like elegant gymnasts on a bar. sunlight streams through the clouds, and then my solar panels arrive and rebecca clambers around my roof, as captain mission makes coffee and marvels at her agility and practical skill. solar power is almost here. 

what i really need is a hovercraft or luxurious blimp from which i can transverse the distances without being stuck at traffic lights, perhaps a teleportation device and a can of fly spray.
there's plenty of light today, sunglasses and refracting images, i notice the amount of glass and screens, how barriers restrict vision, doors windows, curtains, everything constructed in line of sight made by humans must effect our relationship with our horizons. once upon a time we had the horizon ever present unless obstructed by nature, man had a relationship with it. no matter how far he travelled across the land towards that line, it was always there reminding us of our connection to this sphere and therefore the space it orbits, looking at the stars, the moon and sun we could not help but be connected to universal forces.
it follows there must be psychological influence, we relax, the body follows a natural rhythm, the brain stops crunching pointless numbers and eases into what it was designed for, the heart beat slows down to a natural order. man has a relationship with horizon, surfers know this, sailors know this and the captain knows this. horizons tabulate our positions in some secret geometries, we can configure the angle but also the angels, somewhere, over the horizon.