the ocean chops me up, my matter is redistributed, atoms in a strange collider smashed in the hydrogen oxygen mission accelerator, spat out like a ninja fluid warrior, neptunes herald. i wander the beaches at the break of dawn, the frolicking masses already shrieking, filling the silence with screams and hysterical shouts of joy. it's the saturday mornings, family day, dog day, kids play, parental guides steering them into a mighty crashing whitewash and terrible rip, lookout i say, 'children of the earth, it is the wrong day to play.'

i'm wandering barefoot up through the car parks, cafes, crowds of tourists, i get my coffee on the run, sit down in a lonely shadow and watch the waves smashing down mercilessly, a few boats soar across, one motorboat flies through the air and slams down, it's reckless passengers all gripping tightly.

mission control gets a clean, i do a little gardening, i smoke a little and play 'modern blues' the new waterboys cd. it's great, except for maybe two mediocre tracks, the album is really good, i like the americana production and mix. as usual mike scotts lyrics are excellent, splatterings of mysticism, love and observations. i know he's singing about london in one song, 'the nearest thing to hip.'

the day gets increasingly hotter, oppressive heat, i'm covered in sweat all day, my skin slimes and lizard like. at 19.44 a blast of cool air through mission control sets the climate to reasonable. i like the heat, i love the sun but sometimes i like to have the remote. 

chill out.

'keep the river on your right, and the highway at your shoulder, the frontline in your sights, pioneer'...