travelling along the desert vista away from the interference mankind transmits we come to see the horizon, stretched out before us, the sun burns in the sky, causality, shadows elongated and elastic pulled out like rubber bands, we dance and play, child minds entertained in natures gift, these moments are far and few between but we are grateful when they come. you pour your bottled water over me as i twist and turn and spin, my arms flaying about, my head thrown back, laughing.
you steady me and i fall into your arms, to a kiss.
in the desert things like this happen all the time.
we walk back to the car, it's an old beaten up pick up but we call it, 'trident' because it has a sticker of king neptune on the windshield. it's white but stained red with the desert.
you drive, i sit back and look at the sky, not a cloud, not a single one. you slide in a tape, it's the rolling stones, 'emotional rescue' we start to sing the 'ohhhh ohhhs' and laugh a bit more.
sunset and the nearest town is an hour away, we decide to stay in the motel nearest the bar. a quick shower, change of clothes, we head off for dinner and a few beers. we share a spliff on the way in.
the restaurant area of the bar is empty save for two bored waitresses and a cook who looks like he just got outta jail, 'order carefully' i say, 'i aint sending it back.'
the fan above rattles and the jukebox plays some strange country and western songs fom the 50's. the waitress looks very disappointed we strolled in to mess with her evening. we order the salads and some beers, i don't trust anything that comes outta the kitchen cooked. the salads arrive but they look like they been dead a long time. we drink a few beers to disguise the taste.
i leave a $20 bill on the table, we say bye and head into the bar.
here people swarm, dressed in jeans and t- shirts, the friendly crowd all smile at us. i notice the men carry guns and i notice the women do to, in fact they all do.
we grab a few beers. the bar man attempts some chit chat.
'you folks passing through?'
'yeah we just stopping the night, we will be on the way at sunrise.'
'where you folks heading?'
'santa fe'
'ah yeah, well highway 66 will take you all the way.'
'yeah great, thanks.' i feel like adding something about kicks but think better of it. you just don't know with these small town people, so i ask, 'what's the name of this town anyway?'
'why sir this town is roswell.'
'oh the rosewell,' you say all curious.
'yes the roswell.'
'you ever seen any aliens.' you add.
'yeah they pass through here all the time.'
we grab the beers and return to our table.

'fucking hell man, this is roswell, we should go check it out.'
'check out what, the alien space ships?'
'area 51.' you say
'what the fuck is area 51?'
'it's where the military kept the aliens they found.'
i laugh, 'get real, where did you hear that?'
'every one knows it, where have you been hiding.'
'there are no aliens, just us city folk, you heard the man.'
'come on,' you tease, 'don't be a spoil sport, we have loads of time.'

you have the map spread out across your lap, fingers dance across the page, 'just follow this dirt track and turn left when you get to the fence.'
'we can't get through a fence, especially if it's an army base.'
'we will just have a look, you just don't know.'
'mmm i liked it when you were being romantic babe.'
'come on, it's an adventure.'

we follow the fence for a few k's, then we see the hangers in the distance, massive silver installations, about five in a row, sunlight glinting off their roofs, almost blinding to look at. you see the rip in the fence, it's tiny but it's large enough for us to squeeze through. your out of the car before i can even begin to reason with you, in fact as your crawling through the fence i reason that there is no point in reasoning with you. you are having an adventure. i follow.
we walk up to the hangers, side by side, our boots stomping in the sand, our hands almost touching, our faces squinting from the glare. the doors are locked up. you push one but it won't give. i'm kind of glad. somewhere deep inside my guts i have a bad feeling. we shouldn't be there. the place is empty, must be empty for a reason i think.
we wander around the perimeter until we see a window. it's a little high for us to look into so i kneel down and you clamber onto my back. i hear you wiping the dust of the glass. a sharp intake of breath, ''it's empty but it's huge. i mean it's fucking just huge.'
i hope you are going to jump down but you don't, you stay upon my back, i can hear your breathing, feel your weight, some beads of sweat roll down onto my neck mixing with my own, i can feel your anxiety.
'babe, what is it?'
'there's some kind of object there, moving around, it doesn't move like a person though, it moves differently, like a machine.'
'okay get down now.'
you do, and we swap places.
the machine is human in shape but it is a machine, silver surface, large eyes, or at least orbs where the eyes should be, it is difficult to make out any other details except that it is moving erratically and looks somewhat damaged.
'what is it?' you ask.
i shrug, 'could be anything, this is military right?'
'was, now it's just an abandoned warehouse.'
we wander along the edge of the building looking for an opening. there is another doorway but it is locked. i fiddle with the padlock, 'you know this can be easily cut with metal cutters or some kinda big secateurs, it's not exactly fort knox.'
'let me see.'
a few moments later and with a hair clip you have opened the padlock. i wish you hadn't done that but there's no going back, we walk inside.
the air tasted stale, as if it had been locked up for a few years, it whooshed past us escaping. across the hanger was the metallic object, it was some sort of robot. it's head was comprised of a huge orb with two large orb eyes like an insect, it had a body that was almost humanoid but not quite, it looked as if some sort of circuitry was encased in a transparent silver shield all around it's torso and it's limbs were like telescopic octopus tentacles but robotic and the same silver. it seemed distressed and had not noticed us yet. on the floor is a few scraps of paper and folders, i grab one and read the letterhead
'USA MILITARY PROJECT CLASSIFIED AREA 57'
'area 57. what the hell is that?'
'maybe it's another type of alien hanger.'
'every one knows area 51 but i never heard of area 57.'
'what else do these papers say.'
we gather up as many as we can, the floor is strewn with papers and files but a lot of them are meaningless, mumbo jumbo, military talk. we piece together an idea.
while area 51 dealt with aliens area 57 deals with robots and androids that have been captured from the aliens and kept separate. there are four hangers and four different types of robot. this one seemed to have survived a wreckage that was found in the arctic, it was shipped over in 1955 and had been studied by a multi international team of scientists and engineers. there was a letter from the vice president and one from a general. there was a list of russian scientists and what looked like norwegian names.
we looked at the strange robotic creature that wandered around, it looked so clumsy and lost, a little pathetic.

now it's not often i blow my own trumpet, i am far to self critical to even consider myself of any talent, except maybe writing, i have a good writing style that i am comfortable with, but obviously it requires discipline and work. as a song writer i'm developing, my muse and i have a very good relationship, ideas come they take shape and form and eventually i understand the intention. it's a part intuitive process, part using my subconscious and alchemicalizing this into a manifested reality. the reality part i am pretty crap at, i can produce the basic elements, the atmospheres and the skin but it is val's genius that gives it blood.
what he does is sculpt the block i give him, gives it shape and life. it's a great partnership.
in my humility i occasionally do have to make some small claims like the following,
i am extremely proud of a song i just wrote, it's called HGA and it's something close to what i am striving for in words and music. once i get the vocals down with val and he adds his parts i think i can say i have reached a landmark in my personal ambitions as a writer. i don't know how one measures success other than ones own standards but HGA feels like i am evolving in a healthy and positive direction as a writer and this is all i care about when it comes to myself.
i can't wait to get into a studio and finish this song, indeed all the snuff music songs, it's looking to be a very interesting project and the tunes we have so far are really quite amazing, val's flourishes and base lines enrich these songs and make them breath. HGA is filled with potential. i think it's got the magick.

jakob moves out of sleazy amsterdam and hangs out in the quiet suburbs, he is planning a trip to rotterdam. he sent me a great photo of angie and himself standing near a canal. they look like beatnik backpackers living on bread and wine, hanging out in cafes and watchng the world pass by.

monday blues, the start of the week and i'm feeling awkward, very strange, a creeping malaise has crawled into my spine and i feel some what ambivalent about travelling, i should be ecstatic but i am strangely numb. i take pan for a long walk, he catches the frisbee, i grab a coffee and ponder the papers then i meet amalia who is also going away, we both feel somewhat less than we know we should, it's very strange. we drink amazonian drinks and then decide to get out nails done at the nail doing place but when we walk in we are both overcome by fumes and toxic odours that engulf our lungs and infect our neural networks, amalia starts growing wings and i feel myself falling down a rabbit hole, i reach for the door but the fumes are powerful and they have gripped me hard.
a mad hater yells some abuse at me
a cheshire cats floating mouth attempts to bite me
a dodo dies
a caterpillar smokes a joint with me and a friendly gryphon and when we get stoned we mock a turtle
later the hatter invites us to a tea party where they serve us blueberries but amalia and i know they are really raspberries, we call them on it and the queen of hearts threatens to chop of our heads but amalia shoots her in the head and we escape with some cake and some tea.
strange but true

its very late and i have written a song for a friend, played frisbee with pansy and gone out for dinner with tim and am watching sin city on tv, what a brilliantly stylish story and so well acted, i loved clive owen in this, his story and the love he had for his woman in girls town was cool to, that's cool love. anyway i loved bruce willis to, just great stories and over the top but so well executed. the way frank miller writes, it's unique. the love stories are fantastic but they are essentially love stories, very deep and multi levelled, the males are broken and beaten and busted up, the women hearts of gold but deceptively hard. the male leads all act from love, redemption and some form of desperation.
it's a great film.

having said that there is times when alcohol is great and serves a purpose one can describe as self medicating, so in many ways alcohol has a place, i guess. as life gets stressful and complex so does the escape route out and the vodka i had before my gig was pretty good, it carried me somewhat through what should have been an ocean of nervous potential to being something realised. i guess alchol has it's place in my life, and there are no dumb drugs just wise choices and informed minds making them.

we never spoke about alcohol, it's strange as i grew up in london where there was a pub on every corner and the first thing you did when you looked the right age was go down the pub and get drunk, it was silly but that's what you do when you are young and your brain is developing. so i would drink cider or some horrid beer. i'd drink with my friends stewart and andy. later i would go to berlin and drink in bars, berlin was a drinking haven as the bars were amazing nut during this kind of time i discovered grass and my drinking which predominantly consisted of whiskey to keep warm, seemed to decline, and instead of going out drinking i stayed home and smoked. however there is something about girls, bars and drinking that seems to catapult me into relationships. i think i met most of my ex girlfriends in bars after a big night out. so there's a pattern, i even met my ex wife in a pub. mind you at that time i did not drink, i used to smoke the green goddess and go into the pub and order a mineral water.
my local pub was filled with bikers and a high population of au pair girls, whom i found myself drawn towards.
then there was my lost sydney years where i discovered obliteration through alcohol, again each bar experience would result in some weird relationship and a whole load of misery so i gave up alcohol and stuck to the green goddess.
but if i do drink it's at home, usually a home made cocktail made from blue berries or vodka drinks i imbue with various flavours, usually honey.
sometimes i drink el salvadorian beers when im hot and my brain refuses to stop but i'd like an alcohol free life.i like the smart drugs.

currently i am listening to one of my fave rock songs.
it's janes addiction three days, which has the best constructed build up ever. i love the guitars searing away and the way the drums go all tribal, that pounding base line, but perry just delivers the best vocals, like a snake, it's powerful shamanic and leaves you wasted like you spent forty days and nights in the desert being tempted and now all you wanna do is fuck eat and sleep. i love the primal energy in this song, it has a beauty that is long missing from most modern music, it has the voodoo, the magick.
i never saw them live, i had tickets but they cancelled the show.
im a big fan of perry farrel, i like his approach to music and he's a smart guy. very low key political environmental mover and shaker, people assume he's just a voice but he's an amazing organiser and dedicated to making the planet a better place for people to live. i also like what he says about his wife, "etty and I have been working together since 1997. The very first time I saw her come in and shake her... ponytail, I hired her and I fell in love with her on the spot. We travel together and we have a collective memory. so in another words, I don't remember anything and she just reminds me of everything. so we share this memory bank. and it ain't a bad thing waking up with a hot chick in your bed everyday."
sounds great to me.

so how should we live, this is the fundamental question one needs to address in their own lives.
the answer is simple. it is the duty of every one to escape their genetic imprints and meta program their own evolution, there are various ways to do this but i'd recommend the well trodden path of the native peoples, american indians, adopt the practise into life, never stray to far from the community responsibilities for this is the realm of formation where everything materialises. everything you experience is your creation, filtered through your judgements and values and morality. if your morality is inflexible and narrow your judgements will decrease your own perception, one cannot cling to the moral code of power and control, one has to embrace ones own power and ones own relationship to the universe. the magickal frame works of the west were mapped true by the most courageous of magickians, the true free spirits. they dared to think outside the square, travel down paths forbidden. they left their work for us to draw upon, and we should take heed. i followed their reality maps, i practiced their ideas and along with the ayahuscian experience and a mystical background formed my perceptions. these may be wrong but they work for me. that's all i need.
why is kabbalah an oral tradition, why is mysticism veiled in secrecy and the occult so strewn with land mines, it is a very dangerous path to travel without guidance. each generation passes this wisdom down, each individual attempts to come to some understanding of it, like a generational relay finally some one gets the baton and makes that run, i have the baton, it was given to me from my great grandfather and i have run with it. pass it forwards, live authentically, breath good. banish fear and embrace love.

here's something interesting i found on the web...

Definition of God: God is an entity that must have the following properties:
Omniscient. God must be All Knowing and have instantaneous knowledge of all things.
Omnipresent. God must be present everywhere. Here on earth and in a galaxy a million light years away.
Omnipotent. God must have unlimited power which we can define as the spontaneous ability to create unlimited amounts of energy or matter in any form.
Self-Aware. God must be "self-aware."

In quantum mechanics it has already been proven that the Universe has ALL of these properties, and therefore, the Universe satisfies this definition of God and is, therefore, God. Let's examine each of these properties. For a period of time physicists were baffled how to interpret some of the results that came from the mathematics of Quantum Physics. For example, the math showed that everything that exists in the univese like an electron must has INSTANTANEOUS knowledge of everything else in the universe, even if it is a million light years away! The math showed that information about anything must travel faser than light but it was not clear how this occured until recent developments have led physicists to proofs from string theory that the universe as it exists today has 26 dimensions and at least 3 of these dimensions are of ZERO "length" (technically it isn't length but that is beyond this discussion). The implications of this are mind blowing. For the math and equations to be valid mean that everything in the Universe is connected at least one point of ZERO LENGTH and that means everything is connected to everything else those dimensions of zero length and that explains how information is instantaneously tramsiited about everything to everything satisfying the property that God must be Omniscient and also gives the Universe the property of being Omnipresent since everything, ourselves included, is connect to and a part of everything else as eastern religion has stated for centuries. We are God and God is us and we are connected to all that exists.

Several theorems in theoretical physics have proven that from any point in time and space an unlimited amount of matter and energy can appear or disappear--don't confuse this with conservation of mementum which is something completelty different. And several recent proofs in theoretical physics have shown that the Universe must be "self-aware." Religion was historically science and man's early attempt to explain the Universe around him that we now know is a part of each of us. The FACT that science has proven we live in a Universe where everything is physically touching everything else at a single point means that the appearance that objects are far away is an illusion and that all things we see are in fact touching us and a part of us as we are a part of all that exists.

In the writings of Kabbalah, 5,000 years before Christ, we have writings of God's causing effects even before the beginning of time and these writings declare the existence of dimensions beyond our time and space, extra dimensions in which God exists and operates. These extra dimensions are now verified by numerous scientific discoveries and proofs. It is well established among physicists that virtual particles can pop into existence from nothingness through quantum tunneling. And recent breakthroughs by physicists have shown that powerful evidence exists that there is something going on behind it all as Einstein believed.

Kabbalah is in complete agreement with science. A rabbi wrote down 5,000 before Christ a mathematical calculation to determine the age of the Universe---he calcualted that it was 13.5 BILLION years old. Unitil just a few years ago scientists believed the Universe was only 3 to 5 billion years old and recently a group of scientists shared the Nobel Prize for showing that the Universe was 13.5 Billion years old. The probability that the Rabbi could have guessed at this number is about a Trillion to one and this is just one of fascinating things in Kabbalah.

In Kabbalah it was written 5,000 years before Christ that the Universe started with 10 points of light and then there was a big explosition and there were 26 points of light.
The greatest minds in theoretical physics have shown recently that the before the Big Bang there were "open strings." In the case of string theory, mathematical consistency requires spacetime to have 10 dimensions for open strings. Then came the Big Bang and the strings closed and closed strings require 26 dimensions for the math to work.

Richard Feynman, recognized as our foremost authority on the subject of creation, a brilliant physicist, and Nobel Laureate, is quoted as saying that physicists ought to remind themselves of how much they dont know by putting a sign on the walls of their offices with the number, 137. Feynman stated, "It is one of the greatest mysteries of physics, a magic number that comes to us with no understanding by man. You might say the "hand of God" wrote that number and we dont know how He pushed the pencil." It was written in the works of Kabbalah, 5,000 years before Christ, that the numbers, 26 and 137, which are said to be the fundamental numbers of the universe.

Werner Heisenberg, another giant in the world of physics said that all the problems of quantum theory would disappear only when 137 was explained. The book of Genesis says God told Moses that He has revealed Himself under other names but that His true essence is the number of the four letter s YHVH which translates into English as Yahweh or Jehovah. It is used by many Christian sects as the name of God. The number of YHVH is 26. Yud = 10, Hay = 5, and a Vav = 6, for a total of 26. In English, G is the seventh letter of the alphabet, O is fifteenth, and D is fourth. 7 + 15 + 4 equals 26. Kabbalah teaches God is 26.

Neils Bohr discovered that when electrons absorbed energy they jumped to higher orbits and that these jumps occur at very specific distances from the nucleus. He created a chart showing the maximum number of electrons possible in each orbit and he was exactly correct in the sequence of number. On his death bed he confessed that he derived these numbers from the number 26 in Kabbalah that are shown below. Kabbalah correctly predicted the electrons in the increasing orbits of the hydrogen atom, and wrote that these numbers are the "energy emanations of the smallest thing that makes up matter" which we know today is the hydrogen atom.

Kabbalah calculated: 2, 8, 18, 32, 50, 72, 98, 128, 162, 200, 242, 288 /

The Kabbalists had an understanding of the structure of the hydrogen atom 5,000 years before Christ and they wrote down the EXACT sequence of numbers above representing the energy levels of the hydrogen atom.

pretty cool huh?
all knowledge is information. the universe is information, everything is known, there are no mysteries, just the journey to them.

don't fear the reaper, life is about death, sooner or later you gotta come to terms with the fact you will die and make what ever preparations you have to. in my history i seemed to have many close encounters with death, like a ghost hunting me but never actually taking me, it was always there, even when i was born it was touch and go for six months, from that point onwards i was in it's shadow until i drank ayahuscia and died, wow many times over, through my past lives, over and over until this one where i received my answers.
the secret of life is death.
death is not the end, it is a change of energetic states. physical science dictates in law that energy cannot be destroyed, even through a black hole, therefore spiritual laws have some evidential truth when they say that the essence of your life lives on after death. even if your body decomposes and is eaten by worms and tree food your atonic structure is still there, it's state may have changed but it is there, as is your spiritual structure which if you have prepared well liberates you towards another level of existence. i have been privileged to see this state, it's the sea of potential where all is known, like a bed of quanta and ocean, at peace, no desire, no need, nothing yet everything. it's bliss.
however nothing forced me into life more than this knowledge, live each moment, enjoy every thing, loose your fear and rejoice in the dance we are in, the gift of creation. i may be a jaded old fool but i am equally at peace with my creations, embracing the magickal elements that i have mastered and the ones i have not. my body needs work, i need to discipline myself, i carry around a lot of fat i need to shed, my diet needs addressing, no more ice cream, no more fatty foods, it's exersise everyday, yoga, swim and walking. these are my tasks.

far out, out of all the twists and turns i took i was always alone, travelling my journey, having my experience yet i was completely isolated in terms of friends, i never had any, i was on my own. yet here i am surrounded by the best friends any one could wish for, i'm a very lucky man. tonight evan and leanne take me out to a vegetarian restaurant where we eat great food and talk about health, alternative industries and strange alchemical products we use. we eat ice cream apple crumble and honey comb chocolate cake for desert, it's yummy.
im going to miss evan and leanne, i'm going to miss the high priestess and tim, i will miss my band and i will miss my dog. these are my friends.

so friday evening and i get a text from my dear friend evan and leanne who are reading a book that says, 'it contains a vast library of information that can be drawn upon to heal ourselves and our planet'
this is true.
ayahuscia is the the window into an intelligence beyond our experience aka god. i'm not saying ayahuscia is god, i'm saying it could be described as god. this is because it is beyond any human intelligence, it's beyond anything, it is the avatar of our time and it is a PLANT!
how can ones life not be changed profoundly by such an experience.
the healing force behind it is beautiful, it's healing on all levels, and answers your questions in the most powerful way. i don't really know what else to say about it. i hope that people who drink it out there do it with the respect and reverence it deserves. follow dieta and diet restrictions, meditate for a while, reflect and be true before drinking and the honouring process works both ways.

i'm anxious about going to london, it's a massive shock stepping away from my quiet life, my routines and rituals but i guess i should prepare and attempt to be in a positive mental frame. even though jake is still in the air i feel like i miss being nearby, what a great inspirational and brilliant young man he is. my hero. i am a proud dad jake.

i took weird strange eccentric tangents in my life, and i covered a lot of ground, come a long way and got a long way to go.
healthy body is my next challenge.

I love you Jakob see you soon

jake left for amsterdam this evening, we catch up for coffee this morning, he looks anxious, i get him a book, a copy of monstrum by donald james, i regret buying that for him as its a dark story about a detective looking for his son, but i guess it is a good read for the plane.
we wander through avalon, jake tells me he will be away for two years. we talk about his grandmother, who is ill. i talk to him about my grandfather and how i am very close to him still, beyond the grave, we discuss energy and essence. it's a good conversation but also sad.
we say goodbye. i will meet him in 10 days.
the rest of the day i tidy up my house and potter around. i pay bills and generally feel saddened that jake is far away. i miss him already.
i will smoke a joint tonight in honour and wish you a good flight and safe journey.

it's a long flight and the effects of the ephemeral are starting to peak, but also the mushrooms are beginning to kick in strong, he can feel their alien heat flood his bloodstream, he can sense the energy through his body as it settles into his aura. he knocks back the vodka and lets it drain away onto his chest, never a good idea to mix intoxications especially alcohol but his predicament is so vast he needs to have something grounding and physical to cling to.
opening the book he continues to read, the professer has accepted he is responsible as a god to his creation, the foam bubble universe that has blended with his beloved roxy's consciousness. he begins to allow his universe to gain self awareness. it must do this alone although he is always there present should any one seek him.
the universe takes some strange evolutionary directions, many twists and turns and many dead ends but eventually the universe is becoming self aware attaining consciousness through love. roxy is actively working the female energetic component, the goddess.
max pulls out the matrix, he unfolds it. it looks not unlike a crop circle, hieroglyphic. he knows he should release the spirit but wants to do this in a safe contained environment, not an aircraft, he sneaks of for a hash cake and rides out the ephemeral wave.
now he hurdles through space looking upon a giant screen that shows well, it seems to be foam, the quantum foam, the shape of the universe. he looks at it floating there in space, each bubble another universe. this is the big picture in four dimensions. he gasps at the vastness of it, but also for what he sees is the essence of roxy, she is draped across this foam, her consciousness scattered throughout every atom. it is this that he loves. he puts his hand to the screen, the image pixilates and he turns away, directing the space craft back into the foam.
as he gets closer the foam bubble mass enlarges across the screen, in a few years he will enter the universe completely and then he will navigate towards the central bubble, the one that contains roxy.
he wanders through the ships labs and comes to the bubble gun, it looks like a small toy, a bright coloured children's plaything. he picks up the gun and points it at his head.
max puts down the book again, the mushrooms are making it difficult to read, his vision changes all the time, sometimes it's just to bright for him. he sweats and feels dehydrated.
how does this story end he wonders.
ephemeral takes him into the eye of the storm, he feels time slipping away, he opens the book and lets the multiple selves split away and separate, these are different stories, tangents all exploring all gathering the information, and one by one they send it back to max. the main one.
the scientist is max, roxy lives in the plants, she lives in all life. the bubble gun did this, and the only way to unfix it is by letting love work its magick, over eons.
when max awakes again he is sleeping in a bed, a simple large wooden bed. next to him is the witch. she lays in his arms, she is the face of roxy. she opens an eye and smiles.
later they drink tea.
'what happened was it real?' max asks.
'real as anything else is, ephemeral is a powerful substance. it operates on many levels and i don't think anyone else from the human realm has attempted to ever use it. i'm surprised you have used it for so long and are still here. ephemeral often takes the user away.'
'well i do feel like i was.'
'then perhaps you were max.'
'did i solve the case?'
'let's have a look at the matrix.'
i searched through the paperback copy of the bubble gun and found the paper folded up. we placed it on the table and opened it up. and there it was covered in ancient writing and contained in one elegant diagram, the tree of life.

it is not until the cactus spirit is transferring into the matrix that max glimpses the cactus spirit is in fact female, that the form is indeed quite pleasing to his eye, lithe and elfish with a cheeky sparkle in her eyes and a look of recognition shared, an instant that speaks volumes and had a certain gravity.
the cactus spirit shares it to.
time freezes, dissolves, pops, everything distorts momentarily but as reality reassembles it’s changed. max finds his hand reaching out towards the spirit, it grabs her hand and she in turn reaches towards him.
‘roxy.’ he says.
‘max’ she whispers as the matrix seals itself. joseph achillies is moaning on the floor, he is disorientated and requires attention, he looks to max pleading for answers.
‘what the hell is this?’
‘who are you?’
‘mr achillies i am max, i have been assigned the task of protecting you, please don’t worry, i will return you to your office soon. you have just had a difficult experience and you need to rest.’
‘difficult experience, i want an answer. what the hell am i doing here?’ he’s attempting to stand up but he’s a bit wobbly.
max has been through this ritual many times, he strides over to joe and prods his forehead, joe looks stunned and amazed, then his eyes close and he falls down.

on the plane trip back home max processes the events, he holds roxy in the matrix field in his wallet. this is basically an energetic sigil represented by the intention, and traps forms in two dimensional space. he considers the implications of the revelations, roxy is the character from his book and it seems he is her partner, the scientist.
he thinks about the kabbilistic terms and representation. all creation is the part of god that has the divine spark, all life contains this. the ultimate being is separated from his creation, his wife, the only way to unite them is through love, or at least acts of love. these acts are measured in the heart.
the emphemeral plus the mushrooms would have caused a glitch in the dimensional walls, leakage perhaps, or some strange spillage, certain levels of realities reveal themselves, certain patterns are manifested and certain enlightenments are gained. things do get twisted and turned and or untwisted depending on how one sees.
he reached into his bag and pulled out the book. ‘the bubble gun.’
flicking through the pages he already read he finds his place in the narrative and settles into his seat.
the scientist is in despair, yet he is also a scientist so somewhat pragmatic, he cannot travel backwards in time but he can certainly love his creation, it is after all in essence roxy. she exists in everything in this universe. so he begins to care deeply for his universe and although he intervenes occasionally he knows that roxy is free to discover who and what she is and eventually how to get back to him.
this takes an eternity. during which the professor explores and cares for his creation, sending messengers into it, sending signs and symbols of guidance and hope, some of the creative elements have discovered that he exists, they fight and squabble amongst themselves but some are unconditional devotees who in their own private way love him and her, this creates sparks within creation that send energetic bolts through the time and space across the dimensions and reconnect roxy with himself. it's not much but it's a start.
eventually after a few eons the whole planet begins to awaken, the single cells are actualised, self aware and egoless they take their place in the whole, knowing a kind of blissful peace and exulted state. thus bringing union closer.
max closes the book and orders a vodka.

max worked the subconscious crimes, he was an old skool investigator, walking in many worlds, solving the unusual metaphysical dilemmas for his rich and powerful clientele, occasionally he would take on pro bono work but he had child support payments like everyone else, he had bills piling up and interest growing on credit cards, he also had a habit he needed sating.
one afternoon the phone rings, his agent asks if he would take on a case.
the agent is an american woman, she lives in new york city and has agoraphobia but in the web she is free and has many contacts, she is the nexus of all information pertaining to sub crime and sooner or later she finds something she knows max will be interested in.
such was the case march 19th 2010 when she awoke max from an afternoon siesta with the offer of a case.
'send the file over trixie.'
he flicked open his mac powerbook and booted it up, accessing his e mail he opened the file.
he scanned the information.
his client was a cactus entity who had found himself trapped in the soul of a republican politician. max looked over the relevant information, the politician was joseph achilles a greek shipping magnate who had found power the next acquisition after his fourth billion. he was one of the richest men on the planet but he was also not far away from being the most powerful, however since a trip to mexico he seemed to have trapped the cactus spirit within his soul and now the spirit wants out or was it the other way around, the report was ambiguous. it appeared that the cactus spirit was enjoying his earthly form, boozing it up in bars, brothels and roadside dinners, hassling waitresses and clocking up debts in casinos, meanwhile our fave republican was attempting to regain some discipline and control. or the story could read that the republican senator had taken the cactus god on a wild debauched hedonistic romp through excess and the cactus spirit could not escape, either way separation was needed.
max flicked the pages, it appears that the senator was under strict surveillance in a private mental institute in new mexico.
he accepted the case and within seconds was booked on a flight.

max had worked cases like this for many years, he was an old hand, he liked to research but his main tool was intuition and instinct, he used a form of chaos magick and some methodology adopted and adapted from various occult and esoteric traditions. he grabbed a book from the airport bookshop, he chose the book by his seat number, row 7, seat 3 which he translated to mean the 7th shelf the 3rd row. from here he looked at the spines and held his hand over them waiting for intuition to kick in, he was drawn towards two, but chose the one he thought he could also read, a sci fi novel by alister reynolds called 'bubble gun.'
he checked in, grabbed a bottle of water and went into the bathroom cubicle to shoot up. he had been using ephemeral for seven years now, it was his narcotic of choice after a stint with various opiates and psychedelics and extensive plant based spirits he had accessed the ephemeral via a massive dose of dmt that he had injected into himself. the dmt opened a gateway into the machine elf universe where he was given access to the machine elves drug of choice, made by their inter dimensional chemistry, never used by humans ever before. as he hit the vein ephemeral swept through his body. one of the amazing things about this substance was it allows the user to operate in many dimensional realms at the same time, while max was waiting for his flight, listening for departure details and starting to read bubble gun, he was also wandering through the enchanted forest looking for the witch that lived there. another max was also enjoying the pleasures of anteres 7 but that is another narrative completely.
following a natural trail he wandered through the trees and along the path, birds flew around him and sung their gentle song, butterflies flocked in the sunlight that filtered between the leaves and a squirrel ran up a tree. max could read the animals minds, he was able to telepathically ask where the witch lived. follow the freaking trail the squirrel replied.
eventually he came to a small shabby but cute cottage, there was a large herb garden outside the front, and a letter box with a package in it. he wandered past and knocked on the door.
the problem with witches is they are quite mad at the best of times and it's very difficult to get them to be direct, they like to be metaphorical and elusive, everything they say has a certain ambiguity about it, but there is no doubt they manufacture the best spells for hey type of work max had in mind.
'i need a binding spell, and a containment spell and possibly a matrix seal.'
seal seal seal, matrix containment to bind, why what an unusual request dear chap. unusual and obscure. who did you not say you are?'
'madame i am max, and i offer you some silver in return for your service.'
'oh max i care nothing for trinkets, i require other essential substances for my services. we witches are not so enamoured by the glamour of trinkets. anyways i will put a brew on the stove, you will drink?'
'yes i'd love to.'
we sipped the tea, magick mushroom tea, i felt the warmth invade my chest. my brain started to process the situation i was on ephemeral now mushrooms, the time shifts would start to become some what random, so i focused my attention of procuring the spells i had come for.
'i don't have much more time. i would be happy to trade anything for the spells that you require'
the witch spun around, she seemed to do a dance, and then strangely she smiled at me, 'mmmm, it has been a long long time since i have had any physical attention', she morphed before my eyes, then changed again, various feminine forms flickered until she found one that suited me, 'well i don't have much time.'
'ha it won't take long from what i recall.'
so now i come back from the enchanted forest with the spells and feeling somewhat jaded, it was simple in the old days. ephemeral takes me into the desert where i prepare for the trap i will use to contain the cactus spirit. i find a suitable san pedro and draw the circle, hoping that a wind won't arise.
my physical body starts to get stuck into 'bubble gun.'
the story starts with a scientist travelling on a space ship in an unknown part of the universe. he is inventing a weapon although it is not really a weapon but a simulacra of the universe. he calls the weapon the bubble gun based on the idea that the universe is made of foam and each bubble within each bit of foam is a whole universe, the scientist is a genius but he is also a firm atheist and he wants to prove that he can be a god to the universe he creates with his bubble gun. however he is old and life has jaded him, he is cynical and suffers from melancholia, he has lost everyone he loves trough the trials and tribulations of life, he has no faith in man or god.he is prone to bouts of envy, jealously and violent acts of destruction.
actually he is a bit like god.
the scientist prepares to fire his gun when his ship picks up a stowaway, a beautiful girl called roxanne, a space pirate who is wounded and needs some medical aid. he does the noble thing and takes her on board where they start a relationship and the scientist begins to fall in love, the bubble gun no longer the object of his attention. he knows he has found his peace and truth in roxy. they spend many years together, enjoying their company and exploring the gift of love when one evening there is a terrible accident in the lab, the zap gun activates and actually shoots it's intent through roxy whose body dissolves into a billion million trillion elemental atoms that are then embedded in the small bubble created by the gun. the bubble splits in half,
then again and again as the first foam of the alternative man made universe begins to form.
each bubble each part of each bubble is a universe containing a conscious part of roxy.
the scientist discovers this and despite his attempts to rescue her he cannot. so he is god to his creation, the only thing he can do is love it, and the only thing the creation can do is find the spark of roxy and love it so that maybe this love, this strange force can reconcile.
the plane touches down in santa fe, max catches a cab into the desert where his other self has prepared the magick circle. he makes a slight detour to grab the senator from the mental health facility. by all accounts and purposes they are pleased to get rid of him, he has begun to become sexually provocative to the female staff and he has refused his meds choosing to drink tequila and listen to mexican pop music rather than the nice general piped muzak they play all day. in fact he is quite a belligerent spirit and max has to administer some tranquillisers against his better judgement just to get him into the car. they drive out into the desert and wait for midnight.
under the full moon keeping his eye on the second hand max cast the banishing rituals and got reading for the binding. he could not begin until after midnight and as the second hand passed the twelve he began. banishing rituals come in all shapes and sizes but the two keys to a successful banishing are intent and vibration. max's voice rung through the night. the cactus god seemed to leave the body of joseph achilles, a cheerful trickster, tinged green and sparkling mischief, strange energy radiates from his skin, an electric field spilling out into the night.
max is woking now, chanting the incantation to over power the spirit and keep it locked inside the circle. it is all about will power, focus and concentration. fortunately max is adept at this. the cactus spirit starts to sing a song of surrender and max moves in for the kill, the containment spell quickly followed by the matrix field. but max is on mushrooms while under the influence of ephemeral, this has dangerous and unpredictable consequences.

im captain mission, the great recluse, i spent the whole day kinda chilling out at home, a little cleaning, a little vacuuming, a little something else (and i do mean a little) that i can't recall but the bottom line is i had double booked myself with my friend tim with my other friend evan, so i had to cancel tim for evan something i really feel uncomfortable doing. i chilled out for the rest of the day as i said. i did drive jake to the mall, then back at home got ready for dinner with evan when my phone rang. it was the high priestess inviting me for a discussion on psychedelics held in erskinville, she was waiting outside my front door obviously knowing me better than i know myself. i knew i had a dilemma as i was struck by conflicting loyalties but i also have brilliant friends who forgive my idiosyncrasies so i rang evan and explained the situation.
we drove in to newt town, i remembered my days there, strange days, a lost four years maybe, anyway long forgotten memories came flooding back but they quickly left as the distractions of king street newtown come across the wandering mind. wow i love newtown at night, it's filled with amazing people wandering around, i know theres the northern beach elements which have their own beauty but i like the qualities cities offer, it's chaos and energetic frenzy, things happens all the time as brains attract and repel, and here we were driving into erskinville outside the pub. we walk in HP says to me,
'i have no idea what these people look like.'
'mmm interesting,' i say, 'that means we will just have go up to random strangers asking them if they are here for the discussion on psychedelics.'
we laugh.
in we go until we track down in the back room up some stairs into a larger room crowded with people the sydney 'evola' group sitting around discussing psychedelics. we say hi and HP arranges to give a lecture on her work after theres a video call from the leading psychedelic journalist in australia who starts a long involved history of psychedelic paying particular attention to the capitalist constructs, the american ones and the conspiracy ones, actually the guy was so filled with fear and judgements and inner conflicts he was turning me off. one thing he did that always irks me was start rambling on about the west, and the west not having an esoteric tradition, yet the west has plenty and they have all played a part in the development of human meta programming and consciousness and those patrons should be honoured. i feel strongly about that, the west is equal to the east, just have different ways.
then the HP went up and made a short powerful and very honest introduction to ayahuscia, but as always when ayahuscia is channelled, the vine starts to speak. anyways aya spoke her words and seemed to spark a lot of interest, i met two lovely girls, nicole and roxanna and spoke to a very nice doctor /musician about my brain injury, and obviously ayahuscia. actually lot's of fantastic people came and asked about it which is good for us and good for them, the vine is reaching out as the clock ticks, come on sisters and brothers the tree of life, it is a freaking plant.
i also met with a lovely man called tim who happens to run a church and enjoy lsd. i ask him what he thinks the central teachings of the new testament are. he says,
'that there is one god. that you should treat your neighbour as yourself.'
i tell him for me it is about loving your enemy.
we have a very interesting conversation.
i also talk to a man who is very into mushrooms and we chat about them for a while.
anyway eventually we leave and stop at the coffee shop in glebe for a while, we chat a bit and drive home stopping along the way to look at stars and get some air. i talk to her about the holy books, each one having a essential message for human evolution, there is only one god, love your enemy, surrender to god, then there's the eastern traditions a much more internal process of reflection, contemplation and meditation, two polarities working together from different angles. exploration of the central themes from these teachings will indicate some of the stops along the way consciousness has made. and finally the western tradition which allows men to be gods. however this is the most dangerous path of all and frought with danger on many levels. not for the weak hearted.
for dumb little monkeys we don't really have much to show when you plug into the ethernet but we have built some incredible ideas and explored the experience of existence in every way possible, and now it's time for the plants to help us wake up to the bigger picture, the fucking massive picture that is beautiful and rich and rewarding and dare i say it real.
finally after so long being bored and unsatisfied with the answers schools, universities and educational facilities attempt to brain wash us with i discover the answer in plant intelligence.

anyways it was another good night and tomorrow i will go and see my friend and producer and co conspirator of the deep fix val play in his other band, the book of vilah somewhere in the city.

cats that look like hitler dot com
laser tits dot com
religious testicles dot com
and
erotic cakes dot com

are some of the weirdest web sites around but if the web is a holographic representation of human consciousness then humans are predominantly a mixed bag of nuts, personally i think it's great that these things are out there, let the expression of what we are be unbounded.
the puritanical will say what about the kiddie porn, the violence and sex. well i am not saying it is wholesome, i'm just suggesting that it's better this is clearly out there as part of the realm of human experience rather than not.
the idea of repression and repressing any part of the psyche will lead to trouble, neurotic behaviours thrive in repression, and there they are never discussed or recognised. at least here on the web they can be acknowledged.
humanity has a problem. it's true but there's no point in denial.

look at the above examples, one can see them as creative expressions or dangerous and evil. personally i'm quite partial to an erotic cake or two.

what's going on?
the deal is this.
the brain is the interface in which we process space time as a linear process, yet we know that is convenient lest everything happen at once, so from the perspective of the 5th dimension our existence is perceived differently as our own. we only see a partial section, the only way to reach this other perception is to follow the teachings of the magickians, shaman and voodoo love gods such as myself. change the brain, meta programme, magick is just brain change by will, shamanism is the dismantling of constructed reality and the journeying into others for the benefit of retrieving information, the universe is information, the information is love. not romantic love but love as an energetic force, just as gravity is. gradually as we evolve as individuals we begin to see what the greater picture is. excuse the terminology but we are god knowing himself. god is not an entity or alien, it is the conceptual process laid out in the books although in the subtext it is written in black and white, god is a process.
in the kabbalistic understanding of the old testament god is separated from his wife, his wife is the female aspect, the goddess and she exists in all creation as a divine spark. the whole purpose of creation is for the god to reunite with it's partner through acts of love, grace and devotion. this is the essence of purpose on planet earth. that's why all human experience must result in the conclusion love is the one thing that we know is a reality, the rest are constructed ideas. therefore in one's journey through life wherever one goes wherever one travels and whatever one experiences one must always evolve to the point where acts of love outweigh acts of selfishness. it's the battle for the individual soul, the message in the gita, love is the message of the new testament. the two books need to be read by illuminated souls not extremists of any persuasion, it's a metaphor. the sutras have the entire frame work of quantum reality within them but until the quantum language was developed no one knew that. same with most of these texts. the general criticisms that the bible is full of vengeance and archaic rules and morality is a fair point however the point is that they were the first moral codes offered, not illuminated ones but for the time reasonable as brains were nowhere near as advanced or evolved as they are now, just look at the difference between ours and our grandparents. yes the codes of living in the old testament were harsh and the god actually seemed petty and human, but would any other intervention onto consciousness would be taken so seriously or understood. all interventions into human consciousness suit the age and the brain development of the period. crowleys message was very different from jesus but it was infinitely more assessable to the space time than if jesus were have to said it to his space time. lao tzu
there is something to be said about these ideas, the problem is the people who represent them are fools as are their detractors.
consciousness evolves it has to, this is evolution, self directed but following it's own path. i wrestle with this all the time, when it comes right down to it, the essential elements are based around energetic flows, the transformation of energy, is it a cool sexy energy or one that's a bit destructive and negative. negative energy depletes, constructive replenishes, we get the free will to chose. big responsibility.
only the brave meta program, only the truly mad succeed.

old captain mission smokes his weed, sits in mission control and sucks down another el salvadoran beer to slow his brain and cool his heels, it's been a big night, a massive night.
dressed in the glamourous glitter ball outfit and huge high heels, wearing a louis vuitton handbag and sensational bondage boots, well maybe high heels, the incredibly attractive luscious amalia renwick and myself travel across the harbour on our luxury hovercraft, or was it a hot air ballon. we have our photograph taken against the sinking sun that hovers between the harbour bridge and the opera house but the photographer is french and obviously drunk on some kind of pernod flavoured cocktail, she manages to miss the brigde and the sunset and the opera house but she did get a nice photo of amalia and i. we looked pretty good together, a sort of contrasty style, her high class escort look against me looking like some sort of hip priest drug dealer.
we cruise up to the steps of the opera house, under the majestic sails with a selection of exotic vodkas for miss renwick and h20 for my self, being a man of god.
under jewelled skies, soft fading light, surrounded by a very diverse audience, lots of french people, massive attack with their sound.
my brain quickly processing the situation, converting everything down to it's raw form, energy. massive attack make an energy that is what it is, a massive attack, beautifully constructed, elegantly played and masterfully executed we have the incredible light shows, simple bend of ever changing patterns, numbers and configurations and short statements across the screen. amalia and i both see the name, 'BINGLE' across one message.
the band seemed to be enjoying themselves, we were quite far back trading vision for sound.

United Snakes
Babel
Risingson
Girl I Love You
Psyche
Future Proof
Invade Me
Teardrop
Mezzanine
Angel
Safe From Harm
Inertia Creeps

Encore:
Splitting The Atom
Unfinished Sympathy
Atlas Air
Karmacoma

during the show a strange event occurred, a bizarre thing. amalia's bag strap became wedged between the steps of the opera house. and stayed there, despite attempts to retrieve it the opera house was not giving up it's prize. after preforming a small exorcism and banishing ritual i proceeded to pull at the strap but it would not move.
it was not just wedged in there it was being devoured.
we figured that there must be a malevolent spirit that inhabits the steps, a sort of phantom of the opera steps who had taken a shine to amalia and wanted to lure her under. it happened a lot when we hung out in the old days, she would often find herself being the object of desire by hunchbacks, leprechauns, naughty elves, wayward pixies and renegade voodoo love gods. i used to have to rub garlic butter into her skin while she slept just to keep these strange entities and their intentions at bay. of course it had noting to do with my strange sexual practices.

well with broken bag, holding her heels due to vertigo and myself administering benedictions, blessings and sacraments we wandered back with the masses towards the old tug boat that seemed to get to manly without moving.

hip preist home for a quick smoke at spots and el salvadorian beers, some bad tv, a look at the newspapers and a shower and a dream about glitter women with lasers, a new day begins.

the world house by guy adams is a brilliant twisted fantasy that's dark and bewildering and somewhat funny as well. there's so many twists and turns and suddenly there's an overview which kinda puts things in an amazing perspective and the story rolls along like a steam train taking you on a mystery ride through very unfamiliar terrain. until the terrain is literally poured away. the characters are all wonderfully constructed and their predicament sympathetic.
there's a hint of everything thrown in the mix, time travel, surreal fantasy, adult literature, great characters and creatures from another dimension and central to the narrative the strange house which is a universe in itself. the writing is credible and mr.adams manages to pull it all together in excellent writing and a thrilling storyline. it's like alice in wonderland meets steven king on mescaline, can't wait for the movie.

the deep fix played their first gig last night, wow, i have know idea if it was good, it felt good, i endeavoured to remember all my lyrics, come in at the right spot, move around a bit on stage and present something trans dimensional which i think was pulled off, thanks to my amazing comrades val, nev, and louis who not only are excellent musicians but also my friends. finally after years of feeling like a freak i find a bunch of freaks where i can feel normal.
it was a brilliant night. i did have two large vodka and tonics, one before, one after that seemed to effect me in a positive way, i drunk lots of water but mid set found myself very dry. water is my drink, i need it near me all the time. everyone seemed to cheer and clap and despite the sound issues, (no fold back) the deep fix felt very good and i think it's safe to say everyone really loved the experience.
i'm ready for more live shows. see you there.

i like vampires, i like the whole concept and i like the whole metaphor, it operates on many levels but i would like to create a modern vampire. he would live in the city, be a quiet guy. lonely, sad, his home would be filled with dust and books, he would sit in darkness and read or write a blog, he would occasionally have to drink blood but he had a team of gothic girls who were donors, he would also have sex with them, sometimes more than one at a time. he would work strange hours, keep strange time. he would have a dog called pan, pan was not a vampire dog, he would be a big dog but would life a natural lifespan so since the vampires first dog there have been many, making the current one 777. the 777th dog was his favourite so far.
anyway this vampire also wanders the shamanic realms, he travels through time, a trick that involved the blood line code within DNA.
anyway the vampire lived a normal existence, quite eccentric i guess but his main issue was boredom, throughout his eternal life he had not really many things left to stimulate his mind so explored other dimensions and discovered the beautiful plant ayahuscia which he started drinking in brazil. now he is in australia he lives in sydney where he drinks with his friends and entertains the plant gods, he is no longer so bored. other dimensions offer new experiences, new realms of knowledge and experience. he likes his existence a bit better and he loves the plant spirit, he loves his friends and the goth girls, he likes the sound of laughter and ice cream. occasionally he spends long periods isolated, creating art things and contemplating his journey.
one day he decided to write a novel, a story about a human darkness eclipsing vampire darkness, who are the real bloodsuckers, who are the monsters, who are the exploiters. the novel becomes a best seller and is made into a successful movie, the vampire has to do talk shows and guest spots, he gains a massive following and people start to listen to what he is saying. he has a simple message. look at yourself, let he who is without sin cast the first stone. the novel starts to be studied in university courses and eventually the vampire retreats back into the shadows after the death of his 777th dog.

i am exhausted, my body is in revolt, eyes strain, mouth raves, feet rebel and my brain feels like it is made of string and toilet rolls so i am going to keep this short and sweet. be nice to one another, be yourself and be true to your own self once you figure out who that is.
goodnight
mmm, underworld evolution with that cute english goth girl is on tv. i'm half asleep and half aroused.

in old times a man who had a evolved mind started thinking about his experience, his life and joining dots, he comes’s up with a philosophy based on a new way of thinking and despite being surrounded by people making philosophical claims the mass begin to single him out and listen to him for he is a story teller.
he has a message for humanity, ‘love.’
love your enemy is a fucking warriors concept.
why?
because to say it is one thing but to walk it is another. when you walk that truth you can know no fear.
imagine standing in front of your murderer, a cold blooded killer and as the knife comes down you look him in the eye and tell him you love him. the implications of this idea are incredibly powerful. for all involved. the warrior does not fear death, he knows that death is just a transit stage, energy cannot be destroyed, his faith is in nature having a direction, a velocity. the killer has failed to kill anything, especially the idea of loving your enemy. the killer, let’s say he is filled with hate is now faced with a paradox, because although his short sighted hate has sated his desire, he is haunted by the very fact that his victim loves him and in that love has forgiven him. the killer is filled with hate and it has driven him to murder. but he has been forgiven by some one who had no fear. love cancels hate, not only does it cancel but it transcends.
so anyways the man, the one the masses now call ‘holy’ is just a man. he has the same frailties and weaknesses as any other man but the masses have elevated him, they think he is something he is not. he wrestles with this, understanding their need to have sages and assigning holy status to philosophers but at the same time he finds it irritating and bewildering. and sometimes it makes him angry. he spends as much time as he can away from the crowds but they chase him, they follow him and hang on to every word, he attempts to be more thoughtful, make every word count, make his every interaction significant so that people will heed his central message. but it is trying and takes its toll.
the man finds peace in the woman he loves, the woman grounds him, she speaks to him like he is a man not a holy man, she is his inspiration, his muse, his goddess. she is his teacher. she walks with the shekina.
over time the authorities discover that the population are following this man, and listening to his teachings. even their own people listen to what he has said, people are asking questions and the status quo is under threat. so one evening the woman and the man find themselves awakened by the door being broken down, the man is held down and the woman pushed aside.
they take him to the main political figure and he interrogates the man.
‘they say you are the king of the people.’
‘i’m just a man.’
‘they say you preform miracles.’
‘i heal the sick.’
‘they say you are the son of god.’
‘we are all sons and daughters of god.’
‘i cannot have you undermine my authority king of the people.’
‘i have no authority, my truth does.’
and so it went.
the man was left on the street. he wandered home through the streets, it was night time. he walked under the stars and talked to himself, ordering his thoughts, attempting to find meaning in his life.
the only way to life this life is an an example for others, the only way to be an example is to be unafraid, to embrace that love is the way. to do this i must die. from what is death but a door way to be reborn.
the man had spent many years wandering the eastern lands, he had seen many cultures and peoples, he had spoken with many holy men and embraced their teachings. he had evolved from humble beginnings as a man who works with his hands he was practical and as a traveller his mind had opened and he was now a man of spirit. he had done many things, vision quest, sweat lodge, he had drunk the strange desert drink syrian rue and spoken with intelligences higher than his own he had fasted for nearly a month and experienced how to control his thoughts and train his mind, he had learnt the meditation techniques, the yogas and the ultimate truth. death awaits every man, it is inevitable and inescapable. he has to die. and it must be publicly, for his death must be an act of forgiveness and redemption.
everyone must see the example of love and then they will have nothing to fear. for now i am just a man but after i die i will be a philosophy, an idea, perhaps a way of life. this is my power.
months later they come for him, he is publicly humiliated and degraded, he is beaten and tortured and then crucified as is the tradition. his friends all play their part, his trusted friend judas plays his role and carried it’s burden, judas is the chosen one. the one who must suffer most. he loves judas the most and entrusted him with the secret. and jude, hey jude, has agreed to be the sacrificial lamb for his mate. his best friend.
he is dying, the last few rays of sunlight warm his skin, his body is numb, his throat dry, he feels no pain now. there is a glimmer in his eye. his beautiful wife washes his feet with a rag, the blood has caked around his wounds, she kisses his toes, his raspy voice whispers to her.
‘sweetheart. what is it?’ she sobs.
‘forgive them. they know not what they do.’
she loses her temper. struggling to understand the depth of his love. then she feels the love radiate from him, the crowd all ask what he has said. when she tells them they are silent, even the guards are stilled.
she turns to him
‘i love you.’
up there on the cross as the sun now sinks, he smiles.
‘i’m going home.’
his eyes close and he looks at peace.

q and a last night delivered a lame panel that included richard dawkins who ate the minds of his co panelists, a woman rabbi from sydney who was very nice, quite bright but offered nothing revolutionary or insightful into the debate although she was at least more honest and less defensive than the others, a lib and labour politician who came out with the usual respect other peoples views even if the views represent the insane or deluded fools who think science is a mythological domain, an independent family first politician with the intelligence and personality of a newt and an australian of the year man who was a phycologist who generally didn't want to upset anyone, it was incredible to watch the level of discussion sink to the same old crap dawkins protagonists throw at him, not one original challenging question. even my own question, would the intelligence behind the universe not create the concept of evolution was barely answered adequately. the great minds of australia are either dormant or asleep, come on there was so much to discuss and yet we are given the weakest and most dumbest ideas and perceptions from the most unimaginative idiots. poor richard dawkins i felt very sad that he was having to tolerate these fools, and despite my clash with his ideas found myself in agreement with most of what he said.
i do think the rabbi was pretty cool in mentioning that the human brain could not really conceptualise god and that she could only really deal with here and now, but still quite a limited frame of reference generally.
to harp back to the people challenging dawkins by saying he is disrespectful was an indication of a society that truly is insanely in the grip of this idea of ideological relativism. how can evolution possibly occur? it's like the fucking birds wishing they were dinosaurs again.

hanging out in heaven with some angels i noticed one was smoking something that looked like a spliff, so with some trepidation i asked if i could have a smoke with them. now most people don't approach angels, they approach you, so these two were somewhat bemused by the strange man who walked into their conversation.
'hey that smells really nice, what is it?'
'fucking ambrosia man.'
so we stand there smoking this shit, it's the strangest taste, slightly sweet, like a nectar, really nice and yet unfamiliar.'
the nephilim are talking about sex with human women, while i am smoking their spliff and attempting to join in the conversation.
'yes they have such a great smell,' i agree.
'it's biologically impressive, such glands produce secretions and they operate on a subconscious level, attraction is different for angels less passionate, yet with humans sex is incredible.'
'pheromones have a lot to answer for. they got me here.' i add, 'jealous husband.'
'mmm angels do not suffer the emotional conflicts of humans, pass me that please.'
'shit man if i had this weed i wouldn't chase girls. this is great. it's very chilling, i feel like i've swallowed half a bottle of valium.'
'passion is a drug for us angels.'
'yeah i heard that you nephilim get a bit naughty with human girls.'
'human girls can't resist us and if they do we care not.'
they laughed suddenly i felt very uncomfortable, i made my excuses.
'yeah dude.' thanks for the smoke.'
i wander away, my head filled with strange thoughts about these creatures.
i walk towards the bar, heaven has a great bars, thank god.

back in 1956 i was hanging out with william burroughs in a small apartment in new york, he was working as an exterminator at the time, and he was writting a short story with jack about a mutual friend who was dead. i didn't hang out with their criminal friends as i never quite trusted them, i always felt as if i was and never could be part of that scene, that was until i got busted for bug powder.
it all happened one evening in march, we were chilling out at home when bill came home with that glint in his eye, the one that you knew would lead to trouble. he went straight to the bath room and when he emerged he poured himself a large glass of milk and sat at his typewriter.
'gentlemen, ' he said in his strange eccentric voice, 'i have some interesting powder i'd encourage you to ingest.'
we gathered around as he produced a strange brown powder from a silky pouch.
'what is this stuff?'
jack scoffed, 'not more coke man, i have tried all coke derivitives and find them unsatisfactory, apart from helping me write for long periods, the girls love that shit man.'
'no gentlemen this is quite different, quite exotic, it's bug powder dust.'
'i'm not snorting that shit bill.'
'quick assumptions lead to dead ends and dead ends are for those who seek to go where they come from. jack you don't have to snort this powder, you put a little in your tea or under the tongue.' bill stood up, his tall thing frame towering over us as he allocated us some of the powder.
he poured a little out onto a small mirror and cut it with his library card, then with a rolled up bill he snorted a line. the powder disappeared. we followed suit although taking the option of placing the powder under the tongue. we settled back into out chairs, jack continued typing for a few seconds and i closed my eyes.
i felt safe and strong, my body changed, i guess one second i was captain mission the next i was something else, i felt so strong, and my skin was jet black, mirror like, i had armour on. suddenly the room split into fractals of things, like an insects vision i could see bug perception. the room continued splitting and each fractal showed me something different, the heat, the body chemistry, the chemical analysis, my brain was flooded with information. i leapt from the seat to the ceiling looking down on jack and bill. i was attached to the ceiling looking down. how was this possible. i was the bug. i smiled, wow, the possibilities of this are endless.
i leapt around the room, gravity had little hold, i could stick to anything, i was super sensing the environment, turning it into raw data. bill and jack were sitting there looking at me, i imagine tand rightly so that they were undergoing a similar shift in reality.
the experience lasted five to ten minuets but it seemed to last for ages, i don't know the details of how insects perceive time but it's far different than humans, everything is like super slow although our own movement is super fast relative to human.
when the effects wore of we all rushed into the kitchen and ate about 2 packets of sugar between us.

i guess in 1986 i was a young man living in paris, trapped in an older mans body, i don't know, it was a different time, a different me, but in that point of time i was sleeping during the day and wandering around during the night, it was a strange way to live but it suited me and i liked the nocturnal paris, the bars, the clubs, the lights, the people. my favourite place was a small bar in pigalle, it was a seedy little joint, dark and smoke filled, strange jazz piano music played all night and the crowd who frequented it were all sons and daughters of the french aristocracy looking for a cheap thrill. there was some regular proletariat, some dealers, a few musicians and struggling painters, writers and the place was filled with rich women hoping to be muse to some poor guy but the guys were not interested in rich women, they were into one, the bargirl anya.
anya was a fucking jewel, let me tell you she broke all the rules of beauty, a singularity, a shooting star, a bright nova and every man woman and dog was drawn into her light, like a gravitational pull, sucking us all in, a moth to the flame, every night. sucking us all back night after night as we got closer and closer, a girl like this was inspiration to everything, art, war, death and life, so there's no boundary to stop, no self restraint, no friction.
being something of a man of the world i knew this but it makes no difference, esoteric knowledge is defenceless in situations like this, ask any sex magickian, ask any spiritual fucking leader or man with an honest passion and the spark of life. ask yourself.
one night i watched the men all viewing for her attention, it was like an animal mating ritual, the cosmic dance of vishnu, the primal force disguised with words and body language. every technique in the book was being applied over the months and none seemed to work, they were all useless as anya refused every date, every bunch of flowers and every proposal, and believe me she was proposed to on a regular basis, not just marriage but money, travel, gifts, homes, seven different types of love and sex, it was endless. she would smile and offer a friendly stroke to soften the impact, but she would always decline any offers. she was gentle and feminine and strong and had good humour, she had eyes that were fierce and intelligent, she had a mind that was perceptive and disciplined and yet she was generous. men would walk out from that bar sighing, knowing they had seen something in their life that they would always love.
eventually i pulled myself away from that bar, it was difficult but i did it, a friend of mine said, 'anya will never have a relationship because she is a lesbian.'
and despite that making me desire her more, i also knew that i should cold turkey myself away. so one night i went to a coffee shop instead, to meet a girl i had met on the metro, it was a date, a kinda date i guess although i was half hearted and somewhat disenchanted, for if i couldn't have anya what else is there.
the coffee shop was beautiful, an old opium den, i felt as if i had been there before in another life, i was very comfortable and conversation flowed, i was witty and serious in all the right places and proportions, i was a true gentleman and i think my date was very impressed. but internally i was aching, my ribs were pounding, blood rushed through me and my hair was standing on end, it was like withdrawals from heroin. the turmoil inside me was growing and i would not be able to sustain my casual romantic illusion much longer. fortunately my date had an early appointment so we kissed and she jumped into a taxi, promising me she will cook me dinner at the weekend. i watched the taxi drive off then ran down the street towards the bar, it was very late, anya only worked until 3am then she left, i ran along the street and turned to where the bridge was. can you believe this, yeah i'm running about to cross the street that takes me to the bridge when a car veers towards me. it clips me and i fall over unhurt but very shocked. suddenly i realise what a fool i am, jesus i think what am i doing. i should just go back to the hotel have a shower and sleep. my leg is beginning to ache, maybe a drink is a good idea, take away the pain, besides i am close now, just across the bridge and a short walk, besides anya has probably left for the night now. i can blend in with all the other disappointed males drowning in alcohol. I'm shuffling along the bridge, when i see her. she's walking towards me.
we are the only people on the bridge.
it's like a dream or a movie, it's almost better than life, it's fate man, fate is working, the hand of fucking fate.
my mind is going crazy, i start checking myself, do i look presentable, is my suit crumpled, is my hat wonky, does my face look friendly, the permutations race through my mind like a computer program but everything seizes when i try to think of words.
what the hell am i going to say to a girl that has heard it all before. i fumbled there at one end of the bridge as she walked from the other end towards me, but then suddenly she climbed up on the ledge of the bridge.
it was a difficult climb, she sort of had to clamber and push herself upwards, during this time i was frozen not sure what she was doing. then an awful thought dawned upon me.
i called out her name and ran towards her, 'anya, anya, don't jump, wait.' i yelled, she looked around to see who was calling, her face lit by ambient soft light, her face looking peaceful and calm, almost serene, how i imagine angels to look when they sleep. i ran up under her and my arm reached out to grab her but her body just fell away, she was looking so peaceful, i could only stand there and watch her body hit the water. a moment passed and i found myself climbing up onto the ledge, i'd managed to strip down to my shorts and throw everything into a pile on the street. i jumped after her. the water was freezing, i mean it was very cold, i gasped for air and looked around me, already the current had taken me down river, i yelled out, 'anya' but there was nothing, i could barely see in front of me. i swam with the current, doing my best to stay above the water and keep myself warm. eventually after about twenty minites a barge passed and heard my calls. a man with a russian navel shirt reached out with a pole and i grabbed it, allowing myself to be pulled in. i smoked a cigarette and had a warm drink, coffee i think, the crew attempted to speak but i must have gone into a deep shock. i was wrapped in blankets and must have blacked out.
i came to in the police station, they had an english speaking detective who asked me about anya, i told him the story. they said she had been reported missing and several people had phoned in concerned but no body knew where she was. they said that the water police had searched the current flow and found no trace of her, nothing.
i sometimes dream of her, that peaceful look as her pale arms reach for mine, the center of her pupils fixated upon mine, the strange pull of the river seine, the mysterious circumstances of her life, her beauty and her death. anya my muse.

friday night in a basement in kograh we rehearse, there's a little bit of trepidation, we often sound outta whack and inconsistent, there's a lot of chaos that slips in but tonight that chaos is controlled and we transcend. i find my voice, the band work on their dynamics, we start getting our shit together and the sound is very good. i have taken on board nevins comments, he really is a wise dude and understands things i am just grasping, everything he says it actually worthwhile hearing, considering and trusting, i like the way he works and plays, actually everyone is so brilliant i'm lucky. loius makes some amazing sax sounds on the squelching machine but he's tired he's worked all day, it's fucking blood sweat and tears when your in a band, it's a labour of love and a little bit of resentment, i understand this, i feel it to, it takes you away from your family, it costs time and cash, it's very demanding.
val plays with the ferocity and innovativeness of a surreal painter and together it comes, sucked into the vortex. i sing without the lyric sheets and it makes a big difference, much smoother, more present and i remember most of the words, there's a couple of lines i get wrong but no one seems to notice except val who smiles. i feel good about things. however i feel bad that we are fucking all struggling with cash, nevin pawned his guitar for $30, vals in the shit. looking for a way out, i'm fucking living on friends charity as my cash goes in to the band, this is what it's like, suffering for art, yet when you play a set that sounds good it's not suffering, it's rewarding and everything makes sense. kick the blues away with music, music heals man, it heals me, always has always will. sound waves man, it's all energy. we make a trance dimensional energy, we will take you there.
nevin and i talk about working on a project, it's very appealing, and i think the band will really like it.
anyways i have had no sleep, maybe a couple of hours, i wake up sneezing and feeling awful as the neighbours are making a racket, the rain is depressing, the heat filters in, the sun is to bright, i need a blood transfusion and i have no cash for coffee.

after a late night chat with martin my brother i feel restless, i can't sleep, he tells me he is bringing lots of people to the show, i feel slightly weird, i rather sing in front of strangers than people i know but what the hell, i have to just get up there and do what i do, i just hope my words flow and i don't struggle, plus i hope that i can hear the bits that i come in on, it gets pretty messy up there sometimes and i loose my way. but fuck it, i'm a strange man, bring it on.
there are people from work coming as well, that's kinda weird as i like keeping some distance from work and me, they hate me anyway, listening to me sing about inter dimensional stuff will just give them reasons to hate me more, but what can you do, live an inauthentic life, i'm a fucking child of the cosmos, put that in your report.
anyways i washed pan today, met with the high priestess who has a bad knee from kung fu fighting a bunch of kitchen hands in a restaurant who attempted to poison her poisson. she's limping around preparing for peru, we are joined by agent stone and her new baby kia who is smiling and laughing and looking cute.
we discuss the massive spiders they found in iran, huge desert spiders that are so big it's frightening to think about. im actually more terrified of these than sharks, jesus they are monsters.



imagine being a kid from the dairy queen state of wisconsin and joining the army, hauled out to fight a bunch of islamofascists and live in the dessert where it's stinking hot, you can't see the enemy, everything is a potential death threat and then to top it all you have spiders the size of freaking gorillas. i rather deal with guns.

im a lover not a fighter, that's for sure but life throws some strange balls, you have to be a fighter to be a lover really. that's me. a fighter lover hybrid, a genetic engineered self directed meta programmer.
what a huge day, massive day in china town, the contemporary art gallery, a ferry to meadow lands and a train to hornsby. i'm so tired i could eat a rolling moss. goodnight.

fucked up on mescaline and half a bottle of tequila out in the mexican dessert with a gun and my sombrero i was shooting chickens when a girl in a red dress comes strolling up. she looks like a glamorous south american goddess part animal, mostly feline, a cross between a jaguar and an amazon supermodel. she walks right up to me and pushes her hand onto my chest and says in her sexy whisper says she want's my weapon. i hand it to her reluctantly, my experience with girls and guns is pretty negative, i'm still carrying a few scars and sometimes walk with a limp. she takes the 45 and inspects it, her eyes scans the barrel as she puts the sight up to her lips in a provocative manner. actually if she got any less provocative we would be naked covered in peanut butter.
a chicken runs towards us, she adopts a stance and shoots, but the gun is out of ammo and i just hear the click, the chicken squawks and runs past us, i grab the gun from her and pass her the bottle.
that's how i met her, strange but true. jaquinta.
later im in her convertible, we are driving from tijuana to santa fe, the highway stretches out into the horizon, it's classic americana, all we need is some robert johnson on the cd but what we have is her collection of eskimo folk music by the residents.
she's a kooky girl jaquinta, kooky and sexy. i lean back and look at the blue skies vast and expansive, stretching out like a ocean of calm. i'm relaxed, super relaxed, the valium is kicking in, i have not felt like this in years, my body feels like jelly and i have a wide grin plastered over my face. i shift my gaze onto jaquintas legs, oh yeah, heaven. she smiles at me, her hair blowing in the breeze, her foot down, the music blaring out, the sun pumping out waves of heat, i feel like i am flying.
later we pass a dead cow. it's stinks and i have to look away, it's actually disgusting and i feel slightly nauseated, the tequila starts to argue with the pills. i fall asleep and dream i am living in australia. when i wake up it's night and we are in a motel room.
jaquinta is having a shower, i'm on the bed. she walks out wrapped in a towel, smoking a joint. she's wearing her heels. i'm a dead man i think. we roll around for a few hours, i'll spare the details but she's a wild animal, the room looks like hurricane katrina passed through. i fall asleep and quickly dream i'm living in australia.
later we head out to the local town, the bar is filled with sexy looking vampires and nocturnal creatures, playing pool, drinking, dancing, they all seem friendly enough and jaquinta comes back from the bar with some drinks while i gaze out the window at the stars. i have this strange feeling, like i should be somewhere else, but the sight of her brings me back.
she leans over and bites my neck. it's a cute little nip and i push her away while moving in closer.
'we will be in santa fe tomorrow' she says lighting up a discrete joint.
'yeah babe, santa fe.'
'i have business there,' she says.
i nod my head still thinking about the dream. i'm living near a beach, it's beautiful, i'm happy, content, there i am in a vision, driving my car, a family car to work, i drive down a freeway, there's trees on either side, tall magnificent gum trees and cockatoos swoop and shriek between the sides of the roads . suddenly i am back in the bar.
jaquinta is smoking a joint, she is still talking about santa fe, she says she has to meet some one at noon, someone important, she wants to get an early start.
we leave the bar and head back to the motel, i fall into a deep sleep and dream again of my life in australia. i have this crazy job where i work with people, part of a big organisation, a govt. dept, mostly idiots but generally it's a good job. i have a dog, a girlfriend and a active social life, it all seems incredibly rich and colourful, i seem at peace.peace, i must be happy. it's like another me, a part of myself living a totally different life, a life i can't obtain in tis one, i seem to be peering through a window at another version of me, a responsible one, one that actually got his at together. i can see the details, the subtle differences, the choices, the forks in the roads, each tiny moment splitting.
i wake up to jaquinta offering me a coffee, the smell invades me, thanks babe i say.
we roll around a little then we jump in the car and head towards the highway. santa fe is about 4 hours north. the sun is rising, the heat is making its presence known, it's going to be a very hot day. above a vulture flies, following the car. im in the middle of telling jaquinta a story from my past when suddenly she pulls off road and we veer left.
'what are you doing.'
'gotta make the appointment.'
'but santa fe is that way.'
'yeah well this is where i am heading.'
about 40 ins later we pass a tree, it's a joshua tree. underneath, in it's shade is an indian sitting with a dog. the car screeches to a halt.
jaqinta turns off the music, yells out in spanish. the indian waves us towards him.
we prepare for vision quest, jaqcinta tells me we have to do this, she says we have to bathe and fast, we have to meditate and chant, focus our minds and then drink the brew the old indian gives us. i find a spot under the tree and lay down. the old indian offers me some water to wash my face and hands, he offers me a spliff, i relax.
time passes, clouds come and go, and then the sun makes its way across the skies, it's shadow crosses the desert. the temperature drops, the indian starts chanting and jaquinta makes a fire. we get smudged in sage. we drink the brew. i smile at jaquinta and settle into my space. vision quest.
i ask the great spirit to heal me, help me find my way, show me what i need to do, help me see through the veil and understand the truth.
for a moment i get a flash of guilt, all the reckless living. the mirror of the soul. the infinity of energy. explosion. dissolve time, mind, space everything. the horizon slips away, my hand tries to reach out for it, it stretches out before me. i look at it, the other hand before me, suddenly they start to flame, yet they do not burn. bright primary reds, yellow flames. and in my palm there is the eye.
i wake up, the fire is dying, the dog licks my leg. no one else is around, no sign of any one, even the car is gone. i call for jaquinta but i acknowledge her absence, deep down i know she is gone. if indeed she was ever there.
im under the stars, the realms of potential at my fingertips. i pull out a wad of notes, yeah enough to get to australia, i smile, i put my arm around the dog and laugh. the night is filled with stars.

i spend the morning hanging out with jake who is pretty much absent, i mean your there in body but you are preoccupied, where are you, come back to dad for an hour, dock your shuttle craft with mine and lets talk, but no...you're drifting where you need to and that's cool to. i'm a drifter to. we look in the book shop, you tell me 'the terror' was a great book but 400 pages to long, i tell you 'going bovine' is not doing it for me although there's elements of greatness in there, i say when i finish it, i will pass it on. i ask if you want me to take you to the airport but it seems as though you have that covered.
we drift away from one another and i feel somewhat cheated, but it lasts momentarily, i was you once upon a time. i like where i am now. i like what we have. it's good, it's healthy and you know i will be there. no questions, no judgement, no problem.
i wish i had some cash man, i'd slip you a grand and say, travel hard but when your feeling down, live it up in a nice hotel, send out for room service to impress the girl, be frivolous for a night, but i don't have that cash, just a pile of fucking books.
i meet evan for lunch, evan, fuck man where would i be with out you? just knowing your my friend gets me through the hard times, fuck there's no price on that.
evan tells me a strange story about a friend who writes a blog. he says she decided she wants to be paid for being her, she wants people to send her cash and she will continue to be kind and pick up litter and make people smile and do good in the world. so evan sends her $10 via the paypal mechanism and encourages others, the girl feels she is conducting an experiment but evan says, it is him that is experimenting on her.
it's a strange old world people being paid top be themselves, i guess if i had 10000 people a week paying me $10 i'd pick up litter and be nice, although i'd spend the cash on dope and hookers. what can i say, that's me being myself, contributions can be sent to me my deep fix web site.
evan and i realise we are sitting under a sign that says 'new menu here' but some one rubbed the u out the menu so it actually reads, 'new men here.'
i wish i was a new man, a vital vibrant one filled with positive vibrations but i'm me, captain mission, jaded fucking under achiever, strange old visionary and cosmic freakazoid, man of vales, man of tears, prankster, joker and inter dimensional time traveller.