the family, and there's a lot of them all go for lunch at a bedouin village in the arab district of sherferam, five cars in convoy pull up outside a massive tent. we are greeted by a short man and his boys, who sit us down around a table and immediately start to bring out masses of food, really good fresh stuff to, natural food, no chemical shit, it's great, we feast away, jake, martin and myself are shaking our heads, we had a massive dinner last night, just had breakfast and now this, how can we eat more, but it is all light stuff, and very tasty so we manage. after dinner we are invited to sit around the cushions and the hookah that stands in the middle, now suddenly i am perked, oh, great i nudge jake but instead the owner comes and sits with us and talks about the bedouin ritual of bitter coffee, apparently it is a great honour for a guest to drink this coffee with the bedouin and if they refuse they are insulted. he starts to talk about bedouin customs and the rituals that surround this coffee.this is not strong arab coffee but bitter coffee.
i look at jake and we both silently exchange a thought, 'we will drink this coffee.'
no one can believe us, or take us seriously as this coffee is so profoundly bitter, the brew can go for 20 years. our family ignore us and the bedouin continues his chat while my uncle translates.
again i ask, 'we will have coffee with you.'
the bedouin can't believe it, he shakes his head as if we don't understand. no one else want to go anywhere near this coffee but we insist we are serious and two cups are prepared,
jake and i drink out coffees in bedouin tradition, like a shot. every one looks at us as though we are mad, 'what was it like,' they ask.
unrehearsed and totally in synch we say, it's bitter but can we have another one.'
the bedouin man smiles and shakes our hands, he jumps up and invites us to his home, he is very happy.
the bedouins are nomads they move around and do not use money, they have ancient traditions and women are not treated very well at all, but the bedouins of israel all stay put, they serve in the army and their women have equal rights. i ask 'where is home for you?'
israel is home for me, israel loves me and i love her.'
'where is your wife?'
she is studying at university?'
'what is she studying?'
'bio diversity.'
this is how it is here.
we leave and return home, later i go for a walk with jake, we take the long way around the local neighbourhood, children are everywhere, they laugh and run around like happy little rodents on ecstasy, pure joy. it's a strange place, filled with beautiful plant life, colours and music everywhere, sculptures and landscapes that look as though they have been carved by a feng shui master. there's a flow to the place, a natural harmony.
jake and i discuss his options, it's always hard to give advice, i think so far outside of the box that any advice i give would be seen as subversive and dangerous but i said, as i have always said, 'don't be to hard on yourself, you can never disappoint me, and do what you love doing.'

last night my cousin iris spoke about her fears of death and losing her parents. ironic i know, i guess i have divorced myself from my mother emotionally, she means very little to me anymore, her pure hatred of me had made this a necessity, if i invested any emotional energy into her words or intentions then i would just be damaged goods. my father is different, he's always been my connection to the etheric world of his family and my heritage, not that i am enslaved by it but it is a very special quality that side of the family have, a connection to love i guess. but i have resolved myself with the idea that he will die soon, i know this will occur and i am prepared for it, although i am also aware we have unresolved issues, i can't open up to him about my feelings towards mum, he won't be able to deal with it plus it may just send him on his merry way prematurely, so i guess even through i'm resigned to his death it's going to leave a gap for me that i will have to live with.
but i say to my cousin that i feel on first names basis with death, it is more familiar to me than my mother, it's a good relationship and i understand that death is married to life, one cannot have one without the other, one reminds the other that each moment is precious, must be treasured and sacred and that the chain of karma is passed down from parent to child which is why it is important to let go of attachments in death, treasure memory, each moment is an eternal now, and one can only strive towards love instead of fear lest the moment be tainted. and know that your responsibility as a parent is to bring that moment to your children so that they are free. despite my own struggle with this it's got to be close to the truth of the matter.

fucking hell man it's enough to make you want to finish that bottle of chivas regal that's sitting on the kitchen, how can an organisation be so incompetent, my wages have been wrong for the last four weeks, i spent last week on the freaking breadline, unable to move, at the mercy of dark forces because i have no cash and now i have to wait another week before they pay me. finally received an e mail confirming my loading was not paid and a date for payment. so for the next 7 days i will be in suspended animation as far as moving around goes, i have a lot of places on my list, one being the galilee sea which is an amazing lake in the north, near the golan heights where i will stay. last time i was here i wandered around the galilee and found a small community of tent dwelling alternative types who smoked weed and did yoga like activities, they invited me in for a massage and a smoke but i decided i would walk upon the surface of the galilee, they all laughed not realising i was totally serious, so as soon as i finished the holy land spliff i strode down to the waters edge and stepped in, no hesitation, no waiting around for walking on water conditions, no creating expectation, just a stoned strut into the sea, yeah i don't raise the dead but i sure rose a few laughs that day.
anyway i wanna go back, say hello, smoke the peace pipe and chill out in the beautiful atmosphere and environment. plus i want another go at that walking on water malarky.

up at 5am, bus into old jerusalem which is a divided city, the armenian, christian, arab and jewish quarters, we wander through the small ancient winding streets, the armenian section is filled with russian orthodox people wandering around in their black outfits, we wander through the christian section and see the place where a virgin was born, we see where jesus upset a few traders, we see where he spoke some wise words, we wander the stations of the cross and see where he was jailed, the arab quarter is a shit hole, dirty, stinky and filled with manic people attempting to rip you off, it's hostile and volatile, as they swarm out of their mosques filled with hate and throw rocks at cars and passer by's, yeah really classy. the jewish quarter is impeccably clean and interesting with museums and ancient temples and markets and stores and a big wall, the only standing wall left from the temple of solomon who i have to admit is one of my esoteric heroes, but my over all impression is the whole of the old city is just a bunch of rocks, the buildings are amazingly designed but fucking hell, what's all the fuss about?
these religious nuts drive me mental, a kind of glamour is cast and people get all weird, my mum, dad and martin have a strong connection with it all but i feel sadly empty, to cling to these ancient relics is unhealthy. to incite hate and violence is madness, the whole bunch of them are like ant's over a cupcake, sucking any real spirituality from the place.
new jerusalem is much better, in fact it's beautiful, very clean, amazing architecture, modern art everywhere, great looking girls, i'd live there if it wasn't surrounded by the fruitcakes. the only thing i came away thinking about was how cool jesus was, when he tipped over the market stall, i would have done the same thing.

i've been drinking black vodka, wow, what a drink, strange taste not unpleasant but different, it's as if some one squirted squid ink into the mix. we have a big trip tomorrow, i'm not sure how it's going to pan out, tensions high between mum, dad and myself. my poor uncle has to intervene when i refuse to have anything to do with them and chose to stay home rather than travel anywhere, in the end we just drink more vodka. my dad accuses me of being difficult but later i think he knows he is wrong. my general philosophy is i will not tolerate their stupid conditions that they place upon me, nor will i allow myself to feel that they can control me, this is why tension exists, it's a form of separation anxiety. the last bastion they have over me, a clutching at something that parents from that generation seem to think is their right, dominion over their children even when they are adults. i refuse such things, i cannot accept the casual brainwashing from authorities that impose restrictions that contravene my basic human rights. my family are jews, i am as well but i chose not to practice any religious observance as my relationship with god is secure and i don't feel the need to re enact ancient rituals or compromise. my dad however is a god fearing man. he thinks that i should respect his fear, i don't. his god is not mine.
my god doesn't live in israel or rome
doesn't have a church or temple
don't have a set of rules for me to live under except the ones i choose for myself
my god does not fear
my god does not hate
my god does not limit or set boundaries
my god has a sense of humour.
my god loves me and i love my god
my god is within me and without
and my god does not impose upon anyone
so why the fuck should i care about some one else's version?
respect?
i guess that's a good reason but it's also hard to respect something that doesn't respect you. so we will see how things pan out tomorrow. i'm a quiet unassuming guy, i sit in the corner reading my book and am happy if people want to leave me be, but the moment they start to engage me with conditions, rules and control mechanisms that i find are restrictive then they are going to have to have a very good justification that is intellectually satisfying.

i was on some outpost in andromeda on a desert planet no one had even bothered name, there was not much out there, just a couple of bars and a hotel for the black market dealers and gangsters who trade with the outer section, a few families but mostly a barman and his murky customers who kept to themselves. i'd been hanging out in the bar all week, my contact had not shown up, i figured they may have been in transit still, flights are unpredictable and it's quite common for pilots to factor in the wrong decimal point and phase into space that is millions of light years away from their destination.
i had lost a wife this way, grace was somewhere in deep space with twenty other girls who were on a night out, with a bunch of male strippers, the ship transported somewhere into deep space instead of earth. i hadn't seen her for 9 years, they had probably landed on a habitable planet and formed a community by now, these things happen.
the bartender handed me another bottle, 'hey i heard there's a ship arriving tonight.'
'yeah.'
'may be worthwhile, your waiting for someone right?
'yeah, you know something i don't.'
'it's a small universe, news travels.'
'it's a big universe, news don't travel this far. you must know something?'
'let's just say it would be in your interests to be there.'
i take the bottle and return to my room, the hotel is falling apart, my room has a bed a table and a telephone, the cupboard door is falling off and the window is so dirty i can't see out. it has a great shower though.
i sleep through the afternoon and after a long hot shower grab my gun and wander down to the main communication port on the top floor of the building.
i ask the receptionist where the ship is due, she says it's coming in on the western pad and that i can catch a shuttle out there in about an hour. i sit down and wait.
the shuttle ride takes two hours, the red sun sinks behind the horizon, i gaze at the desert through the tinted windows. there's no one else on the shuttle, not even a driver, it's all automatic. later i see the lights in the sky, the ship is small, which is unusual i was expecting a freighter this far out, i watch it's gravity suppression as it glides down to the pad, just as we dock.
moments later my door slides open and a woman enters, it's her dr. newton, my contact.
'jesus christ newton, nice of you to show up.'
'i had considerations, i'm just glad you waited.'
'waiting is all there is here, seems like everyone on this planet is waiting.'
'yes i know, i have been here once before, it probably has not changed.'
she sits opposite me.
'someone knew you were coming, the barman told me.'
'news has a strange way of travelling.'
'it's supposed to be confidential.'
'mmm, yes well there is no confidential anymore, it only takes a good hacker and all communication systems are exposed. even confidential ones.'
'no secrets.'
'none.'
'well have you got it.'
'later, i need a drink first, i've been travelling for, six years.'
we walk into the bar, i nod to the bartender who offers us a bottle.
'whiskey okay?'
'yes perfect.'
i catch up on news back home, wars, politics, tensions, and gossip, nothings really changed.
the lights are low, we've been drinking a long time, dr.newton is flirting with me, resistance is low, we amble up to the room, she showers i look at some feeds on her pdr.
before we have sex we both take a complementary bliss bomb, the universal standard aphrodisiac heightens sexual response in the brains neuro- pathways and increases dopamine circuits.
later we lay on the bed sharing a joint.
'so you want to discuss what you have.'
'yes but i need my money and i need a slot for take off, you arrange that and i'll give you the package.'
'well where does that leave me if it don't work.'
'it's not going to happen. i have the goods.'
'yes but what if you don't.'
'then you can radio the authority and have me picked up.'
'mmm, and risk myself being picked up to.'
'look it's trust and a bit of faith. i'm not going to rip you off.'
she pulls her pdr out and punches in her codes,then she passes it to me. she wants ten million credits. i look into the eye piece and the pdr runs a scan. then i punch in my codes and press transmit. i throw the machine to her.
'okay well i have time for another bliss bomb, there's no need to rush.'
'it usually doesn't cost so much,' i say wryly as i slip back under the sheet.
we head back out on the shuttle transit, she's looking out the window as the sun comes up,'looks like a desolate wasteland.'
'that's cos it is.'
'it's so barren.'
'yeah but it's strangely familiar to me, i've come to like it, it's home.'
'you know that they found some sculptures out here about 200 years ago when they first landed. build by aliens they said.'
'who?'
'the archaeologists.'
'there are no aliens.'
'well some one made those sculptures and it wasn't us.'
'impossible.'
'check the records.'
we sit in silence for a moment. then i decide to speak, it's an awkward silence.
'so what's next for you?'
'i'm disappearing somewhere nice, where they have trees.'
we dock and she hands me a small package, 'thank you. bon voyage,' i whisper.
i ride the shuttle back and open the package, it's a pdr. i activate it.
it's a video of her, 'in 3023 a small research team working on genetic plasma reproduction and nuclear medicine discovered quite by accident a way to travel through time. using a genetic coded hydra that was injected into the blood supply the recipient could travel down the genome time line on it's mothers or fathers side depending upon the sex of the recipent. that is if you wanted to go back to ancient rome you would basically follow the dna strand back to your great grandparent x 1000. while inhabiting the body your consciousness would be dominant while the host would lay dormant. the hydra lasts about 24 hours and then returns along the dna path to the present, the distance travelled depends upon the strength of the hydra. the hydra dose per incarnation is 2cc.
it's not a one way journey but one cannot travel forwards in time.
the hydra is a complex radiated protein, a hybrid pattern of molecules and viral agents. the host body remains preserved in a comatose state until the hybrid exhausts itself.'
there's a lot more, i flick through the screen, pages and pages of technical information, diagrams and charts, there's biological, chemical and neurological sections, then a massive phycological section i scan, the usual warnings and repercussions, carefully read the paradox laws of time travel.
i put the pdr down and look into the rest of the package, there it is a small sealed container, the size of a postage stamp, inside is a tiny syringe device.
upstairs i did some yoga, smoked a joint and opened the sealed container, i took out the injection tab and the dose pack attached the full 2000mg dose to the tab and placed it upon my chest.
there was a moments hesitation, 24 hours as far back as i can get, this was a small prick for me but a giant one for my kind. i plunged the needle, lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, the last thought i had was 'don't fuck the locals.'

when my eyes opened i was covered in hair, laying in what appeared to be a nest, i looked out across the horizon, i was standing high up in a canopy of trees, an old growth forest, birds flew past, the sun filtered through the branches and leaves, i was naked. 'what the fuck am i doing in a nest?' i said to no one in particular.
i climbed down, my body was about 7ft tall, my arms and legs very long and i had no fat anywhere but i also possessed a tail which seemed to swing around like a counterbalance,, it was very long and although was quite useful would take to long for me to master.
once on the surface i walked along following a trail, until i came to a clearing where a crowd of these beasts seemed to congregate. they were all rolling around laughing and some seemed to just be laying on the floor sleeping like giant sloths. i watched three or four other beasts arrive at the clearing, they ambled in and took some large purple fruit like orbs from what could be a female beast. then with a primitive straw they punctured the fruit and sucked up the fluid lat lay within, some mixed the liquid from the purple fruit with the liquid from a smaller yellow one, like a cocktail. the effect was instant, they seemed to be experiencing some form of drunkenness but their faces all smiling and looking happy. a beast approached me from behind, his arm grabbed me and pulled me into the circle, together we walked up to the female beast who offered us a purple fruit. my new friend took both of them and mixed the liquid with the yellow fruit, then he handed me the shell filled fluid. he smiled and drunk his. within seconds the eyes in his head rolled back and he swooned, falling on the floor and remaining there smiling. i took a sip, it was wonderful, i gulped it down.
there was an explosion of light, i was traveling through time, space on what appeared to be a multicoloured river of quanta, i knew everything, all memory was available, all information at my fingertips but the desire to know was non existent, i was in bliss. the river carried me, us all of us, the beasts along, we floated effortlessly and i felt at peace and in awe. i knew this was no longer time that i was in, sure i had travelled back as far as the hybrid would take me on a full dose, it must be well before the dawn of mankind, before known history, but here i had taken some other substance that had taken me out of time. an ethogenic or psychedelic experience. yet here i knew everything, i reached out for dr. newton, she seemed very close and we seemed to be able to share our thoughts.
'it's beautiful isn't it?' her voice was a soft whisper, she was not in my head but it felt like that.
'what is this?'
'it's reality, the end of time, the beginning and end of everything.'
'that's cryptic newton but i know what you mean.'
'everything you need to know is here, all the answers but here is perfect so there is no real desire to know anything.'
'heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.'
we drift in silence for a while,then on impulse i ask the quanta,' who built the structures, was it aliens.'
'no, there are no aliens, just humans.'
'did humans build them.'
'yes an early version of humanity, there's been quite a few and probably more to come.'
'why.'
'evolution has no end, energy cannot be destroyed, consciousness has a velocity.'
i'm no longer interested, i'm content not to know, the answers don't mean anything anymore, i close my eyes and enjoy the silence and the bliss of perfection.
i must have stayed there for the rest of the hydra, the next thing i know i'm back in my room.
my body feels feverish, i think it may just be the residual effects of the hydra leaving my body.
i get up and head to the shower, but as i walk through the bathroom door i catch myself in the mirror.
'fuck' i scream, i 'm looking at my host body, covered in hair and with tail.'what the fuck!'
i grab the pdr and scan for side effects but there is nothing, something has gone wrong.
my tail swings from side to side and it takes me a moment to bring it to a standstill.
i search my bag for some sort of shaver but there's nothing, i know there's nothing, i know that there's nothing i can do, i know that i am trapped in this body, an ancient human prototype that is long extinct and now it's my body and i have to live the rest of my life in it.

last night we spoke about the male female polarities, my tantric cousin saying that men seek out their mother in a partner.
she made the statement that all men look for mother figures. almost everyone agreed, including two men at the table, martin and guy.
i stated categorically that this was not the case and that i never have and never will seek out any partner that presents as a mother figure, to which i was told that i cannot help do this as it is my imprinted nature.
'no in my case it's not true. all patterns and imprints can and should be broken and this should be the duty of all evolutionary creatures. as soon as i could i reformatted my hard drive, through nlp, through magick, psychedelics, through brain change and through my own meta programming.'
my mother looks horrified.
'i think you are very mistaken if you think all men are incapable of having some sort of control over their imprints.'
to my surprise martin agreed with me, talking about the use of nlp in business.
the conversation swung around to men fearing women and their power and again i said this is not strictly true although as a generalisation it is the case.
there are the faces of manifested female energy that is anger, force, ego and power and then there is the goddess. most women have no insight into their goddess nature and their power is untamed, uncontrolled and not really power at all but an energy that is destructive and undirected.
we talk about the kabbalistic meaning behind the story of adam and eve, the snake being a sexual symbol, the discussion moves around eve being the first archetype woman in the bible.
but despite my lack of religious affiliation and my loathing for religious institutions i know my stuff and i add to the group that eve was not the first woman in the creation myth. before eve god created another mate for adam, a woman called lillith and like all old testament stories originate from sumerian mythology where lillith is a succubus. in the old testament lillith is the serpent, the untamed female sexual energy that dominated adam. the hebrew texts being hijacked by the church this bit was edited and thrown out because women were not allowed to have such allusion to power of any sort let alone sexual.
there's a big discussion about men and women, power in relationships, most people have never heard of lillith but my aunt siona confirms that it is true.
my mother is silent during this discussion, she looks at me with her rage filled eyes and loathing, she does not know me one bit, she does not recognise me, she has no room to attack me or manoeuvre so she leaves.

finally i meet all my cousins again, it's been 9 years. they drop by one after the other and soon the round kitchen table is filled with them, all girls come to check jakob out, he seems to impress them with his stories and conversation, and martin and i talk about australia, martin suddenly seems reasonable towards me now, engaging and respectful, it's really weird, i guess maybe i need to accept that he cannot know how it is for me, fuck how can he, perhaps i have been to hard on him, i don't know, he can't really perceive the deep scaring that has taken place when he has no idea what to look for or how to read the signs, i don't know, i don't know how i should feel, i don't want to hold on to any resentments or ill will not with him, i don't even want to hold on to any ill will with my mother but i don't want to forget that either, i never want to feel like it's right. ironically as she holds court and interrupts all my conversation and tells everyone how wonderful martin is and how i get jakobs name wrong sometimes (i call him martin) and how hurt that must make jake feel (yes this is what she tells people) she then goes on to judge some one in the family as having bad kids saying, 'the parents say their children were bad.'
a voice inside says, 'let the children judge if the parents are bad not the other way around.'
anyways eventually siona has the good sense to get her out of the house away from me. siona must be reading me like a book now, she is an excellent woman, a strong powerful and intelligent understander of human dynamics and behaviours.
so with just the cousins and martin, jakob and myself we start to talk about how we all love hash cakes and smoking weed. thank you jesus, i've found the mother load. it's fantastic. yes that's right all the cousins love the weed. now i know how moses felt wandering around the wilderness for forty years, finally reaching the holy land, excellent. i start to tell everyone about my hash cake experience, we all laugh, even martin is laughing and jake.
suddenly it feels like my family is working.
my cousins, how can i explain them, they are amazing, iris and ozzi are jakie and sionas daughter, iris's husband is a industrialist who i met once in australia, he travels the world selling helicopters, iris is a kind of punk rocker who loves motherhood and has a wicked sense of humour. ozzi is an acupuncturist who looks like a model, she is married to a submarine commander and is about to leave for a posting in germany for three years. she is the wildest most outrageous girl you can imagine, yet she is a great mum, very intelligent and pretty funky. she likes her weed, dancing and drinking.
michelle is my age, she's divorced and is currently a tantric sex goddess or something like that, she's pretty cosmic and switched on, she has a gay son who i spoke to one the phone and arranged a big night out with for jake, martin and myself. michelle always takes the big picture, she is a great counter balance to her sister sara who is also extremely wild spirited and told me last time she had a hash cookie she took all her clothes off at a party.
then there is daffna, the sweetest and smartest, a brilliant girl who is possibly the only sensible person at the table apart from jake who if he has not been led astray soon will be. her husband guy is there to, he tells me in all seriousness that he thinks there is no hope for israel, it will be destroyed. this is sad and i know he is right.
conversation ranges from lillith to the healing of glitches in our family, it appears we have two main people that need healing, one being my mother the other is a cousin called jenny who lives in tel aviv, she hates everyone. okay compared to my mum that sounds easy and i suggest that we owe it to her to help her.
later i suggest that we hire a massive bus and go on a road trip, smoking weed, travelling around, camping out, take the kids, no parents, some good music and positive vibrations, it's time for joy.

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oh no! my mother arrives, the first words she says are some derogatory remark, i keep silent, let it sit, then she starts to tell everyone about how wonderful martin is, and how similar jake and him are, we sit around a dinner table as she dominates the discussion, ironically it's about madness. she talks about good parents, and claims she was a good parent. i feel like saying something, 'perhaps the children should judge that.' however i remain silent.
already i feel like i am suffocating, thankfully martin and jake are here to distract me.

man i must be exhausted, i've slept for about 20 hours in one straight unbroken block, it actually feels good, i'm invigorated, batteries charged and ready to rock.
the other night i went to a bbq, drunk a lot of very good wine, ate a lot of tahini and salad, flirted with a lieutenant in the army
who was the only girl there who spoke good english but i think i was somewhat needing a spliff to relax, alcohol just don't work for me. anyways as soon as i mentioned 'mushrooms' she showed me her own tattoo which is a mushroom with an elf or some sort of pixie jumping over it. it was amazing, i wanted to eat it but i wasn't allowed.
later we stopped of at a moroccan family who where celebrating a moroccan tradition where they leave the door open for anyone to enter, the guests are offered a selection of sweet foods and the most exotic looking fruits i have ever seen but i was stuffed and couldn't eat anything at all, although a belly dancer fed me a creamy white looking substance that looked like the egg white stuff that makes a pavlova, i was feeling very sick at this point and we left.
then we stopped at my cousin who fixes me a scotch, perfect, i drink it like a shot and everyone laughs, 'one more for the road huh?' i say.

everywhere i go i notice these mushrooms, they grow in people's gardens, they appear in ornamental designs, they are even on tattoos my cousins have, everywhere. i ask my cousin and she gives me a wry look, we talk about the band infected mushroom who everyone seems to love. it wouldn't surprise me that the next generation here are all psychonauts of some order.

when i came back from the wars i was a different man, i had seen to much, lost to much. a man be him warrior of high priest is only a man, and his limits will be reached where the excessive spilling of blood or holy devotion blend into something divorced from meaning, the sword that used to kill with becomes the sword that sets you free, the bible that liberated you now enslaves and kills many more than the sword ever did, the intention is blurred, what was holy is now an antiquity, what was a weapon is now an historical relic, there's meaning within meanings and even no meaning has a meaning.
i was tired and jaded, to much blood, to much toil, to much killing, i had seen my friends die in battle, i had seen my enemies die, the whites of their eyes, their pupils dilated as the moment approaches, i have seen the soul leave the body, i have seen my women go into battle and die for their beliefs and in the end battlefield and the bedroom appear the same, the only thing that is different are the players and the faces, the despair that haunts their features as they come to understand the truth, as the life force leaves the body, as the aura closes down, as will begins to diminish, that horrific realisation that it is all for nothing and all for something.
my men and i had sailed south upon a trade vessel, we were five in number, seven if you count the dog and the princess we had taken captive. she was brutalised and beaten, barely conscious and still in trauma but my men were not responsible, it was her court of treacherous lawmakers and bureaucrats, who thought we would be appeased at this offering, we slaughtered them all and then took her down, we nursed her and dressed her wounds, there were five of us left. they had crucified her, left her hanging until we stormed the walls, my small army fought until we had taken the position, there five survivors stood under in her shadow, we were bloody and beaten, we may have lost our humanity but looking at her up there with the sun behind her, blood caked body, her face beaten and a map of brutality we saw her blackened eyes and her scared chest and her tiny feet nailed into wood, her hands twitching and her hair matted and knotted something deep within us stirred.
it is at the point when you are tired of living, when you look back in refection and think what have i done, where have i come from, what is left for me, it when the joys of life are outnumbered monumentally by it's tribulations that such nilism descends upon a mans soul, no matter the spiritual strength he may have, my men and myself had transcended this, we had no reasons to live anymore, killing conquering, carnage had become an endless journey with no destination, in the name of what, a god, a king, a country, a idea and there under the cross, under the sinking sun that illuminated her body in a white halo of light shone a glimmer of something numerous, the crossroads, we could have just as easily decided to kill her but we chose to cut her down.
on the vessel we assisted crew but she remained in her cabin, we fed her mouthfuls of broth soaked up with bread, one by one we took turns in reading to her from the only book on the vessel, a story of arjuna and his council to krishna upon the eve of battle, we all enjoyed this story but the princess never really responded. the voyage was uneventful and at port i we thanked the captain and took the princess to the sanctuary.
here we made our plan, we would destroy our government, our leaders, our king, our queen, and their council, all of them would be killed. and then we would decree that our captured queen would reign. it is better to serve beauty we agreed than brutality.
and so when the princess was healed the deed was done.
the princess became our queen.
her first decree was to declare war upon the world and we in horror realised what we had done, installed a mad woman as queen.

i travelled all over the planet, home is where the heart is as far as i am concerned and my heart is big enough to span a few large land masses, but one place i always feel at home is israel. it has little to do with my history, culture or religious beliefs and more to do with an energetic sense of how israel works.
despite being thousands of years old and having an ancient timeline from antiquity the modern israel is only 60 years old and no matter what your politics or prejudice is absolutely the most intelligent countries on planet earth. perhaps this is why it is feared and vilified by everyone else. i'll write more about this later, or if you feel inclined you can trawl back through this blog to find out why.
the family apartment is beautiful, it's in the english/ french part of netanyu a small but growing town, but at night time it looks like any other place. we meet my uncle jackie whom i have not seen for 10 years, he's a lover, an amazing man and his wife siona is even more amazing. i dump some stuff and the rest of the family and go back to their place in a place called 'ata' an hour away, i do ask jakob if he wants to come but he is tired and needs to sleep.
on arrival siona gives me a hug, i can't tell you how great i feel to be away from the miserable atmosphere of london and the narcissistic madness of mum, here in the glow of normality.
siona is a social worker, she's about to meet the minister of education on a 'special needs' project and asks me to come with her, i explain i have not got a shirt or any thing smart to wear, she says, 'i want your mind, it's not the clothes that will make an impression.'
anyways we get chatting and the conversation comes to mum. i feel as though there's been some engineering here, someone behind the scene pulling my strings, guiding me to this moment, it's very strange but i know siona and she is a professional first and then a very close aunt. she suggests we create a sacred space to talk about these things and lays down guidelines. it come's spilling from my guts, for the very first time in my life i talk about my childhood and the impact living with mum has had on me as a human being. the words just come out like a tidal wave, my uncle jackie is there to he, come's in and listens and when the words stop pouring forth from me, i look at them and they say...
'your mother is the problem, not you. we know this and we know how hard it must be for you.'
they say a lot more but generally what they say is that they know how my mother is and they understand that martin is her son while i am something else. they also confirm that my dad is in conflict, somewhat scared and somewhat torn between loyalties, he is frozen into being silent.
while this probably means little to anyone else to me it is a massive affirmation that i am essentially okay, that i am on track, that i am not an accurate reflection of my mother. this is like having a new lease on life, the psychic damage in the last week has taken it's toll, i feel drained and depleted, i felt caught in something that was drowning me and suffocating and after this talk with my wonderful aunt and uncle i can breath. i sleep soundly through the night 10 hours.

last meal in the uk and mum asks me what i think of england.
'i think it has some kind of sickness, it's energetically very sick, like it has terminal cancer and suddenly everyone is realising their days are numbered. it's lost it's spirit and sense of identity, it crushes and drains it's population while offering them reality tv, sports, celebrity and the idea of a healthy democracy but there are dark forces at work within it and through it the cancer has spread into the host and my prognosis is that it is terminal, the evidence is there staring everyone in the face but you are all in denial because no one here can think for themselves.'
as usual my mother launches into a tirade against me, ungrateful, selfish, rude, stupid etc, all in front of jake, i shouldn't be surprised but i am again thinking what the hell am i doing here with these people.
the next evening we are on a plane heading towards israel and mum is sitting next to a town planner and architect from england's midlands. i am sitting between my brother who is reading the newspaper and my dad whom i attempting to engage in lateral thinking puzzles to stimulate his brain but he can't ask me more that 3 questions without demanding an answer. it's depressing me and frustrating him.
my mum asks her young friends what they think of england and they reply, 'it's sick, the whole country is suffering from a sickness, it's no longer the place we know.'
my mum tells me this later, mentioning these educated and professional men, she looks quite disturbed by the conversation.
after a thoughtful moment i tell her that when i say something she can only degrade and humiliate me, but if someone else tells her the same thing she thinks it's insightful and sophisticated and can't wait to share it.'
there's a moment when she looks at me, it's a flash but i know it is there and she knows, a split second where the whole nature of reality converges and everything is known, the truth they say comes in a blinding flash of light, and thats what she saw and i witnessed.
the healing has begun

she was a little gothic girl, lived in a dark zone, a necromantic who somehow managed to keep her job as a librarian in highgate but at night would scavenge the cemetery for a good looking corpse to idealize. it was her secret taboo, although with the advent of the net she was able to share her fetish with a few like minded people, mostly japanese girls and a german guy and four american couples and myself, although i was there purely quite accidentally.
often when i scout the internet for information on magick or on occult i’m presented with various options and it was during a search for the hp lovecraft text necronomicon that i came across the site. open minded though i am, liberated and unshockable, i was about to click away in disgust when a small image caught my eye and i clicked upon it, which in turn led me to the obscure dating site. and there disguised like any other normal dating site was a list of photographs of singles in my area.
i trawled through the images, a vastly diverse range of people appeared, men and women, some just completely androgynous, some looked very straight, some a little disturbed but the one thing they had in common was their secret necro passion although on the actual site it was alluded to, never obvious. it’s only know i can see with the benefit of hindsight.
about half way down the screen i saw her picture. very plain and unassuming, save for her eyes. her eye’s were as black as anything, and her stare was penetrating, deep into mine. the more i looked at the image the more she looked back into me.
anyway it’s embarrassing to say, i was curious but it was more than that, i was taken in completely. for a moment i thought i could click away and continue my search but there was no way i had that kind of discipline. besides her eyes held me. so i regret to say i sent her a short introductory message.
‘hello there, i noticed your photograph and it appears we share some common interests, would you like to have a coffee one afternoon.’ and i left my number and a fake name.
i re read her profile again.
‘female 25 highgate, london, single seeks companion for nocturnal activities and love craft like passions. must be over 40.’
what did i know, i was a dumb guy with an interest in the esoteric, i had no idea that the love craft part of her statement referred to something so terrible and shocking. to be honest i thought when she wrote love craft she was referring to some creative sexual pursuit.
anyways we met outside her workplace, the highgate library, and walked down the high street to a coffee shop on the corner. it was raining so we moved quickly sharing an umbrella. once seated inside i noticed her eyes again, absolutely pitch black, like two black collapsing stars, incredibly magnetic and once in their attraction it was impossible to pull away. everything else about her was plain, she wore no make up, dressed quite conservatively, spoke softly, was very well read but had never travelled overseas, she lived in a small apartment or flat as she called it a few streets away, she was a vegetarian and had a pet cat. she was also lactose intolerant.
we spoke about very safe, mundane things then she asked why i sent her the e mail.
‘well i really liked your photo, and i was interested in you i guess, i don’t normally meet people on the net but i felt a certain attraction and we have a few things in common.’
‘yes, what things?’
i had to think on the spot because i had not read the ‘interests’ part of the profile so i had no idea what she was interested in, so i said, ‘books, we both love books.’
she asked me what i enjoyed reading, ‘oh the usual, anything really, as long as it’s good. what about yourself?’
‘i like reading hermun trusky and ollivetti de havilland, although my favorite book is dora brud’s ‘death beyond life.’
‘oh i have never heard of those writers but they do sound very interesting.’
‘yes.’
‘and what else do you share with me.’
‘share?’
‘have in common?’
oh well books, and err, i like tea,’ i smile.
‘mmm and your tastes are....’
‘black, no milk or sugar.’
‘i wasn’t talking about those tastes.’
‘oh!’
there’s a long silence.
‘i’m not really sure to be honest, i just wanted to meet you, i’m sure once i got to know you we would have heaps in common.’
she smiles, it’s not a big smile but a kinda mona lisa one, an inflection i guess.
‘i found the site by accident, i don’t really know anything about it, i just saw your photo and i sent you a message and here we are.’
her eyes looked deep into mine, it was not unlike falling, i was falling, gravity had no place in her presence.
she got up and left.
‘great,’ i thought, ‘you really blew that.’

a week later she called me, we met for dinner. she wore a black dress and looked stunning, but she had an agenda and it wasn’t until dessert she put her cards on the table.
‘i need some help, are you free saturday night, around 11pm till about, well the following morning.’
‘yes of course,’ should i bring a toothbrush?’
she smiled, ‘no. but dress warm and bring a flashlight.’
i must have looked surprised but she deflected the issue by asking me how my week was.
we kissed briefly, a fleeting kiss on each cheek and she hurried away and i was left outside in the rain.


saturday night i met her outside the graveyard, technically highgate cemetery, a london landmark, it sprawls for miles, the graves of quite a number of personalities and the analogue to the gothic cemetery, it’s raining and cold and i’m wondering what the hell i am doing here when she runs out of the night and stands in front of me, looking excited and elf like, there’s a gleam in those dark eyes.
‘okay, lets go.’

i grab her, ‘what are we doing, i need to know before i go any further.’
‘you’re helping me, that’s all you need to know.’
‘but what are we doing here in a graveyard?’
‘we are going hunting.’ she clambers over the wall, i follow.
this cemetery is incredible, it’s huge and although the newer areas are well kept and accessible the older areas are overgrown and look like something from a horror film.
our flashlights follow the trail towards the crypts, overgrown and ancient, the vines have grown around the graves and tombs here, trees all look dark and mysterious in the narrow beams of light, we pass a statue of an angel preying, another laying down, there are angels everywhere, different types, different sizes, they are all silent sentinels, guardians. deeper we walk, along a narrow path, overgrown with shrubs and wild areas that are unkept and abandoned, an owl hoots and it startles me, she laughs.
suddenly the path ends and we have to walk through the overgrowth, i’m pushing away branches and navigating my way through, our flashlights hit something, white against the darkness, it’s a opening to a crypt.
the actual steps are clear, we walk up them silently, a million questions are racing through my mind but i’m to terrified to speak and i think i’m scared of the answer.
as i step into the dark corridor that leads down she grabs me, ‘can you wait here.’
‘what?’
‘can you just wait here.’
‘wait here, while you go down there.’
‘yes.’
‘why.’
‘ i have something i wish to do alone.’
‘i don’t know, look i’m not that happy about being in a graveyard to be honest, let alone waiting here on my own while you go down there.’
‘please, i will be back soon. promise.’
there you have it. i stayed on the steps near the entrance while she descended, i followed her beam until it vanished.
i don’t really know how long passed, i never carried a watch, but it must have been a while, the rain never really stopped although there was a fracture in the skies where the moon passed for a moment and illuminated my surroundings. i was in the middle of four identical crypts, they each had the steps up to the doorway, an entrance and then steps down. they must be connected i thought, underground. each doorway was guarded by, not an angel but a horrific gargoyle, a demonic monster that looked as if it was from the bowels of hell. right out of lovecraft i thought, they were not even made from the same white marble but black obsidian. then the moon passed over clouds again and the rain came down heavier and that’s when my flash light started to fade. i turned it off to conserve energy. i sat there getting wetter and wetter as the downpour increased and eventually moved inside the doorway.
i felt as if i should do something, move away or in but standing there doing nothing wasn’t the answer.
i called out, ‘miss jones.’
nothing.
i took a step in.
‘miss jones.’ i called again, no reply. i placed my arm on the left wall and thought i’ll follow the wall and if i have to come back then i just turn right following the right wall, but i wasn’t convinced if that was the solution. at the back of my mind it felt like a plan but another part of my mind had already dismissed it, and while i was caught in this neurotic ping pong match i had already walked into the crypts depths. the staircase was narrow but started to spread outwards, i held the flashlight but i dared not put it on, i would wait until i needed to. i could see nothing now, but at least i had the wall. i felt the first spiderweb after a few minutes, it hit my face, i screamed out and my hands grabbed my face wiping it manically.
‘jesus christ, this is shit. miss jones, are you there.’
no answer, i followed the steps down, each step i took was considered, i was never reckless but i was getting very anxious. each step i thought this will be the last step, each step i waved my hand in front, each wave seemed to bring some cobweb from oblivion towards me. eventually i gave up worrying about the webs and just followed the staircase, down and down, i estimate i walked down for an hour at least before i hit solid ground.
that last step came as a surprise, and i thought maybe i will allow myself a burst of light.
the beam revealed a corridor filled with spiderwebs and a bat flew straight overhead and up the staircase, i ducked and noticed a plaque on the wall, an inscription. i didn’t bother to look at it but moved onwards along the corridor stopping once to pick up a stick i could use to knock the cobwebs away and also any zombies that tried any monkey business. however holding the stick and the flashlight was difficult so i turned the light off and stuffed it into my belt.
i walked along taking long strides and then seemed to come to a turning, again i flashed the light, just for a moment. the power was dying, a narrow beam of light showed that i had reached an intersection. ‘christ.’ i said aloud, ‘what the fuck am i doing.’
i continued straight onwards. the only sound the sound of my breathing, and my footsteps and ....
what was it, a voice, a woman's voice, it must be miss jones, it must be. i followed the sound. eventually it became louder as i approached , careful not to make a sound, i pulled the flash light from my belt and got ready to turn it on as i followed the corridor to the chamber the voice was emanating.
‘darling my darling sweetheart, soon we will be together, i miss you so very much, you know i love you, you know my life means nothing without you, you know these things my love, my sweet beautiful...’
‘corpse.’ i finished the sentence for her, bathed in the faint glow from my light she lay there her arms around the remains of a body unrecognizable. he was kissing it’s head with skull bone protruding and what looked like half a head of hair. she looked at me in surprise and horror. the moment frozen as the light went out and darkness engulfed us.
‘i’m sorry, i really am, i didn’t want you to know. i’m ashamed about it but it’s love, i love her,’ she sobbed.
i’m not sure what was more shocking the fact she was in love with a corpse or the fact the corpse was a female.
all i knew was i had to get out of there, so i ran back, i ran down the corridor and up the stairs and ran out into the rain, then i ran through the bushes as branches cut and swiped my face, i ran and ran until i came to the perimeter wall. i climbed the wall and ran along the streets until i realized i was running away from where my car was parked.
i was exhausted and freaked, as i wandered back to my car. i had seen a lot of things, been in a lot of different situations, been with a number of eccentric women, i was no stranger to their tastes but never had i experienced anything like this. so shocked was i there was no drive to find out anything about who this woman was or the relationship that they have, i just wanted the memory removed from my mind, the smell of it pervaded my clothes, the sound of her voice, the horror of them in that strange dying light, the look of them, those eyes, those eyes and that dead skull, they were the same.
i cried.
when i got home i opened a bottle of johnny walker black label and drank it.
in the morning, afternoon, the sound of bells, chiming, i was laying down, lights where shining in through curtains, there was an awful taste in my mouth and those ringing bells, the phone. i reached out and answered it. the sound of breathing, soft breathing, ‘please i must see you, i must explain, i did’t want you to see me like that, i have to explain.’
i put the phone down and she never ever rang again.

it was many years later that i was in paris, walking along the left bank when i was struck by a small occult book shop. i wandered in and looked at some of these old books, mostly leather bound collectors items, rare and valuable. i had always loved the feel of books and this was such a rare find, i had visited most of the esoteric bookshops in europe but this was not listed. it stocked some gems but nothing i needed and as i was about to leave i noticed in the bargain bin a small bound book called ‘death beyond life’ by dora brud.
on a whim i bought it.
it was written in german and took me two months to get it translated and a considerable sum of money.
it was a poem of a young woman who was in love with a dead poet, later the young girl found out the poet was a woman, and she was confused but none the less had given her heart to the poet and after a long time searching attempting to track her down found she was dead from influenza and buried in her family crypt in barcelona. the young admirer is devastated but the poets poems are about love beyond death and therefore gives the adorer hope that there is such a thing. i must admit it was quite beautifully written and very haunting, lonely and romantic, it seemed to seduce you with it’s words. the style crept in under the skin, into the heart and stayed in the mind. each word seemed to have it’s own vitality and the structures of the sentences were almost perfect. i began to think about that night again, it suddenly didn’t seem as horrific, it was almost tragically beautiful.
on return to london i visited highgate.
i had never been back there, never, it had now been 9 years. i walked into the library and enquired after miss jones.
she had committed suicide 9 years ago, thrown herself into the thames. she was buried at highgate cemetery quite close to the crypt but in a different section. the library staff leave flowers for her once a month. the assistant gave me directions and i went to pay my respects feeling somewhat strange and empty. i took a bunch of roses and the brud’s book .
as i approached the grave i felt a flutter in my heart.

everything comes to a grinding halt when i go to pay my rent online and see that yet again my leave loading did not go in, which means i am fucked. my plans to get out of here and have some respite will have to wait. this is a bitter blow and another reason why all public service institutions are useless. what am i supposed to do, phone from the uk and navigate my way though bizlink, while i wait on hold listening to john denver i guess.

in my pirate days my ship was being pursued by five different navies, the french, the spanish, the portuguese the dutch and the english. for most of the time we didn't have to move around and could hide out in various points on the globe for long periods of time, but obviously being a tropical and warm blooded soul i liked the hotter areas near the equator, south america, the africas and madagascar where always welcoming to my crew and i.
the europian navies were filled with neurotic fears about sailing far from home, they mistreated their men and followed a barbaric code of whipping and mistreating their crew who had been forced into serving, where as we had our faithful libertarian standards of democratic distribution of booty, our charter or articles of fraternity plus we had one thing those idiots didn't, we had women on board. yes old captain mission has always been a ladies man, he's always had nothing but admiration for the goddess and this has served him well.
we were moored at a small enclave in north mad. i had distributed some books amongst my crew and some hashish, which we preferred to the usual brain numbing rums the navies gave their mens, besides hashish acted as a lovely aphrodisiac. my crew were relaxing after a 6 month plundering raid so our stocks where as high as our spirits, we had been here for two months and i was halfway through the yoga visiatha reading aloud to my friend and confidante lady arabella march who is fixing us another hashish pipe when there is a knocking upon our door. two short bursts of three knocks, followed by one burst of two louder knocks, our safety code, no one on the mainland that was our friend would deviate lest they end up with a cutlass embedded through their heart.
arabella answered the door, while i sat upright in my hammock, closing the book when in walked the ships dr, mr why.
'sorry to trouble you both, arabella you look beautiful this evening, captain i must speak with you, it is urgent.'
'of course dr. would you like some tea, or a pipe perhaps, arabella is preparing one so it's no trouble at all and it is lovely to see you, are you well?'
'yes, yes i am good, yes i'll have a pipe and a it is good to see the both of you to, you spend so much time in here it feels like ages since we spoke last.'
'yes we are quite the reclusives on land. now sit down dr, and tell me what troubles you.'
'it's the english, we have heard from a small trading vessel that there are ships heading towards the coastline.'
'curses, just when i was beginning to relax how much time do we have?'
'they will be berthed offshore at dawn captain.'
'mmm, well we have time for some tea and another pipe.'
the dr. looks through the book i've thrown down on the table, ' i have read this, it's very good.'
'yes it's having a profound effect upon us, i particularly enjoy it's direct style, question and answer.'
conversation sways to the many treatments dr why has found on the island by consulting with the natives and their healers, 'plant life here is vibrant, there are cures for all manner of things, it's abundant with natural medicines.'
'make sure you stock up the ship, we may have to sail out of here for a while.'
'some of these plants are very powerful medicine captain, they are amazing, broken bones heal within a week, cancers and tumours gone, melancholia gone, headaches gone, poor sleep gone, all manner of diseases cured.'
'what about the english, is there a cure for them?'
'he gives me a wry smile and raises his sword.'

im driving around these places, helping out, massive superstores and centres, very american, warehouses that go on for miles and miles, products that are so cheap they give them away, hordes of zombies pushing trolly's whacked out on coronation street hangovers and tetly tea psychosis. i drive around in circles, around roundabouts and car parks, in the rain, the sleet, the hail, the
endless water logged infinity that invades the bones, the blood the spirt. i put the heater on in the car, it's the warmest place in my world right now, i'm safe from madness, safe from noise, safe from harm. i wish i could smoke a spliff and listen to some reggae, imagine i was somewhere else, somewhere where i could just lay in the sun with my beautiful woman, a couple of el savs, play with her hair and fall asleep listening to her tell me about the plan for the future, but it ain't gonna happen, instead i'm begrudgingly doing what i have to do. i attempt to come into the moment and adopt a positive attitude but i need to defrost first.
i help with some chores, meet martins friend david who is great, we talk about ayahuscia and stuff, mum is bewildered that i can
engage with martins friend like this about so many obscure topics, she can't actually get a word in and hovers around us looking lost. after dinner we have a massive discussion, david and i share a few positions and ideas but mum is oppositional and keeps interrupting, i have to pull her reigns, i am manipulating her now, through subtle tactics and nuance, she is unaware as it all happens on a subconscious level but i am taking control. with david here as witness it's easy, any third party will act as a brake when my mother begins to attack me, she is forced to hear david value me and this undermines her, my tactics are like precision weapons, attacking her foundation, she cannot manoeuvre without support and with a witness there she has to restrain herself.
there are moments when it comes out, actually i am glad as david obviously recognises this monster. martin who is sitting quietly understands what's happening, i know he does, he's smart and has to be more aware than he makes out. he says, 'he can't relate to our conversations' and i understand that as he has never explored tryptamine but i know he must see mum as having serious issues. it's not cultural, it's not personality, it's not age, it's a mental illness.
i use some affirmations on her, re enforce some positives when she is softer spoken and receptive, i surf her like a cool wave braking on avalon beach, and for the frst time i feel i can get through this.
i watch the pete jackson remake of king kong with my father, he is into it, i leave halfway through, i'm over naomi watts looking so fucking hot in the arms of a big monkey, it reminds me of that joe jackson song, 'is she really going out with him.'

jake's gone out clubbing, pubbing in central london, he's staying out all night with friends, i'm getting an early night and reading a new book called 'wolf hall' the winner of the booker prize this year.

Dealing With Narcissistic Mother

more commonly known as NPD, can be described as a personality disorder wherein a person suffers from an inflated sense of self importance. Such people think of themselves as always right and in order to hide their own faults, end up criticizing others. The ‘ultra confidence’ that they show is just a veil to conceal their fragile ego, due to which they often have a deep need for admiration. Having a narcissistic person around is, in itself, is a major problem. However, if the person happens to be your parent, especially your mother, the problem increases manifold.

Dealing with Narcissistic Mother
Dealing with a narcissistic person is not an easy task, especially when that person is your own parent. Given below are some tips to help you out.

Recognize
First thing that you need to do is recognize and accept the fact that your mother suffers from Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Look out for the usual symptoms, like believing herself to be right always, constant need for approval, getting jealous of you, criticizing you all the time, getting hyperactive when her faults are pointed out, never accepting that she is wrong, and so on.

Understand
You need to be patient with you mother and find out the reason why she turned into a narcissistic. The key lies in her past. Talk to her about her childhood, teenage years, early marital life, and so on. In most cases, dysfunctional childhood, like too much pampering, neglect by parents or abuse, are the reasons behind it. You need to make her feel assured of her present and future and build up her confidence once again.

Gather Yourself
When dealing with a narcissistic parent, you need to set boundaries for yourself. How much are you willing to take from her, without getting unduly affected? Since a narcissistic parent often causes a child to lose confidence in him/her, you need to be sure that you do not end up suffering from low esteem, because of her. Gather yourself for the battle ahead. Keep reminding yourself that the fault lies not with you, it is with her.

Don’t Feel Guilty
A narcissistic mother always makes her children believe that they are the one who are at fault, not she. She will try to blackmail you emotionally and make you feel guilty. Don’t fall for that trap. Remember that she is more concerned about her own feelings than yours. You need to keep this in mind always. Otherwise, you will be the one to suffer.

Be Calm
Whenever you are with her, try not to react to anything she says. She will constantly try to elicit a response from you and this is what you have to keep her devoid of. However, you need to be assertive and even say ‘No’, when she goes over the board. Then again, anger is something that you should never resort. She will want you to get angry and do something silly that she will later blame you for. So, don’t give her that chance.

Get Out
If you feel that putting up with her is becoming unbearable and you cannot continue to be by her side, without losing your sanity, it is the time to move on. A narcissistic mother has a negative effect on the personality of a child. Your anger and resentment, at her, might spill on to the other relationships too. So, before you end up losing everything that matters, move away from her. Don’t break contact, but stop living under the same roof.

strolling into interzone dressed in knee high leather boots and victorian purple velvet jacket over a skull and crossbones t shirt i head for the first opium den i can find away from the main street that crawls with agents attempting to look invisible or blend in but they stand out like priests in an orphanage. it's cold and raining and my purple lensed sunglasses are blurring things but i manage to find a nice intimate bar called, 'exotica' so i wander in and take my place in their more private lounge areas. the decor is quite ornate and soft candle light flickers sending thin shadows across the ceiling. i make y self comfortable as one of the oriental women comes to help me take my boots of. in a matter of minuets i am sitting naked being massaged with warm oils and lotions from the eastern lands, i drink a sweet tea and step into a raised marble bath.
the water glides all around me, as if alive, embracing me, i close my eyes and let my hostess wash me with a soft sponge. i can feel the oils working into my skin, invigorating and replenishing, it's calm and soothing, while her hands are firm but gentle and feminine oozing stress from my shoulders, my arms, my thighs.
when she is finished she wraps a red and black silken robe around me and leads me into the chamber, where the cushions are piled up around the pipe, i nestle in and smoke deep into the lungs where it soaks into the bloodstream. my tolerance is high so i need another few hits, but eventually that wave starts to carry me. my eyes close and i sink into the dream. quickly the shorelines fade, the last thing i see is my hostess smile and the glint in her eye as she puts a cup of sweet tea to my lips.
i'm woken from bliss when a vaguely familiar figure appears in the room, he sits opposite me but does not smoke from the pipe, he locks eyes with me.
'captain mission. i thought i would find you here. not many know about exotica, even the inhabitants of interzone are unfamiliar with it, it's the kind of place people do not find, it finds you.'
i attempt to speak but my mouth is jelly and i cannot form my words, only listen to this strangers.
'you have been traveling for many years now, we were always one step behind you, but we knew you would eventually come here, our agents are everywhere, but you always manage to slip through the nets. remember berlin?'
i attempt to shake my head, i think did i ever visit berlin, yes many years ago, i lived there for a year. but i can't recal the details.
'kreuzburg captain mission, ring any bells, we almost had you, our agent gabriella had made contact but you seemed to vanish before she could bring you in. it was a perfect trap, the beautiful air hostess, the nightclubs, you must have worked it all out and slipped across the border, we had all exits tapped to it would have been into the east.'
i did remember, the dance gabrielle did for me, the seven veils, salome. i also recalled slipping out while she was in the bathroom, walking along the snow covered streets in the blizzard, running as fast as i could towards the east. i ran because if i stayed i would have had to kill her and killing her would have been difficult, it would have haunted me. but who is this prick, what does he want from me now.'
i have had several agencies chasing me but only one has the elaborate schemes and resources to pull gabrielle off, 'the family', ruthless and relentless, and with one aim in mind, to bring me in and torture me.
i reach my hand out for a smoke, a joint, i can't find a lighter but he offers me his.
'yes mission you were quite the escape artiste.'
'fuck you.' i whisper. i know who he is now.
strength is returning but i am also seeing deep into the face of my tormenter, reading his karma, he will die soon, not now but die filled with a false faith in empty void, his bones will be buried and forgotten while he will reincarnate as a frightened civilian in a dictatorship where he will do his duty as he has always done throughout the aeon. it will take him several lifetimes to understand that duty is to ones own truth and he will take several other lifetimes to find a path to salvation. i see his joy is in trinkets and service to one cause, and one cause alone. i wonder if she is close by.
'so what are you dragging it out for, do your duty and be-done with it. i have nothing to say anymore. i ran but it catches up with you, the past, here it s now. before us, face to face. so do your duty.'
he smiles his sad smile and looks melancholy, 'what happened to you mission?'
'i un-wrote my dna and became free.' now it's my turn to smile.
there is a cold breeze that swirls through the chamber then she appears, much older and looking quite ghostly, gravity and time have ravaged her face, she is smiling but not in a playful way, it's a twisted sadistic smile, the smile of a torturer.
'hello mission.'
i remain silent, my body is so comfortable, my breathing in perfect rhythm, i imagine myself in a float tank, enjoying the 4 hour hit as 'nothingness' comes on and the mind is gone but her voice pulls me back, back here and back in time, so deep is it's resonance.
'what have you got to say for yourself.'
i read her karma and offer her this.
'whether you are coming or going, the whole world is your own self. you must find out whether the mountains, rivers, jungles, and forests exist in your own mind or exist outside it. analyze the ten thousand things, dissect them minutely, and when you take this to the limit you will come to the limitless, when you search into it you come to the end of search, where thinking goes no further and distinctions vanish. when you smash the citadel of doubt, then the buddha is simply yourself.'
i smile and my heart is filled with unbounded love.

dan simmons book has surprised me, it's was hard work, although i love reading anything about the natural free people it did take a while before i got a real footing into the narrative and then about a third of the way through an event occurs that absolutely gripped me in the characters and their journey, there's so much hstory and culture in this book it's like being in a museum as we unearth the nature of the west but there's a tension that is undeniably real that pulls us every which way, it is the death of the old ways and the birth of the new america, it's very sad, then there's the personal journey of the main character 'back hills' who carries with him the ghost of custar. the last section of the book deals with the rise of the europeans and the forces at work in the ebb and flow of civilisation, but there's also a an amazing turn about right at the end when black hills vision quest becomes manifested in a way that is unpredictable and simply beautiful and very relevant.
the central theme of the book is mans responsibility to nature. to one another and to our children who are after all is said and done the future.

i wake up very early, the sunlight streaming through the window has activated something in my brain, i jump out of bed and wander down the steps into the front garden where i sit and soak up the sun, it's beautiful, for the first time since i have been here i can see a hint of blue sky and a window of sun light that i bathe in. my body is nourished my bones absorbing it hungry, it's a moment of bliss.
a few years ago i learnt something called bone breathing, it's a technique that taoists use and mantak chai taught me, so i did a few minutes of bone breathing and channelled some energy through my body and into my bones, which have been aching with arthritic pain and rheumatism since arrival. my many accidents over the years where i have broken bones result in this incredible pain in damp climates. it's actually very bad here in the uk. i guess all the walking in the rain doesn't help. anyway bone breathing circulates some heat around and for the first time i relax, and feel myself dissolve.
jake and i make plans to go into the city, we are not sure what for but know we both need to get out of here. we will get a lift in with martin to the station as it's pretty un assessable by public transport and last time jake and i walked through the pummelling rain we were drenched, trekking through the wind and storm back to my parents house 10 ks away left us both truamatised and i was then refused when i wanted to wash them.
anyways we hang around waiting for martin to get organised, by the time we are ready it's pouring and hail begins to fall, heavy hail. anyway jake and i are determined to go exploring london and get away from here.
we do have a pleasant drive with martin despite the weather.
we ride the train into the city and get of at shorditch which jake says is a happening place, however it turns out shoreditch is a sort of dump with a few nice shops. after wandering along we ride the tube to the kings rd chelsea which is an old haunt of mine.
we start wandering along and discover the taschen shop. both of us get quite excited we both dig his work and philosophy of bringing good art publications to people for a reasonable price. inside i'm immediately struck by three books.
one is the massive volume of helmut newtons body of work, amazing man, amazing photographer. we look at the massive pages from the book that has it's own stand. it's just divine, any person who is interested in fashion photography would know helmuts work, almost fetish like yet more sensual than sexual more erotic than pornographic, we are both very impressed,
then my eyes catch another very large book called 'magic' which is a collection of art that promotes stage magicians though the ages, it is beautiful and something i would buy however the weight of this book would mean that flying it to sydney i would have no other baggage allowance. it was so heavy i needed help to get it from the shelve.
we are assisted by a lovely young girl who starts to show us her fave book 'moon fire' now this is amazing. it's a book that chronicles the flight of apollo 11 writen by norman mailer with accompanying photographs, now this girl is so passionate about this book it's really infectious and we all crowd around listening to her talk about it, i mention that i am a big norman mailer fan.
she shows us her fave photograph of some women making the hubble telescope, i've posted it here. if you look closly you can see their cigarettes and lunch. the hubble was put together by these women.



the assistant starts to tell us about the shop and some upcoming events, she invites us to a gathering in a few weeks, and she offers to assist ship the magick book to sydney if we are interested.
jake and i both agree the service in england is excellent, much better than australia where it feels like the customer is an intrusion.

a massive storm breaks out and we run to the satchi gallery and cruise around this amazing exhibition of contemporary indian art, we take some photographs and discuss some of the pieces, both very impressed. this is a fantastic gallery, really spacious and unafraid to exhibit contemporary art in all it's forms, provocative yet stimulating and free to enter.

we return home agreeing that we actually had a good time despite the rain, on the way discussing what we can do about the home front, i tell jakob that i'm uncertain if i can last the distance but i will try. i explain the situation is one where my own self worth is clashing with a sense of duty, a mission to attempt to heal this damage on some level and a financial situation i can't control. as soon as i get paid i'll be able to work out some options. i offer to take jake to paris for a week if i can do it, it's not something i really can afford as i still have to pay of my debts that funded this dumb trip but it seems like a necessary
and appropriate resolution to both our disappointment with an unloving fractured and emotionally crippled family environment.

obviously i understand people will read this, why do i write so honestly about my personal life and family you may ask. because i don't ever want to forget this, i had blanked my whole past from memory, wiped it out as soon as i could, possibly the truth behind my numerous head injuries, i left my mothers madness though at the time i had no idea she was mentally ill. it's all come back now, i could fill those pages with what it was like here as a child but there's no point in the past, just what occurs now. i want to remember this so that next time i consider visiting i will look back and remember why i should not.
i'm so shocked at the behaviour that i am experience it's disturbing and terrifying.

mum will ask martin everyday, if he has any washing, she will do it for him.
at home in australia i wash my stuff in my bath as i don't have a machine, i do it by hand. i asked if i could wash my clothes as i was caught out in the rain and they are soaking wet, to which i was told no. her reason is that it won't dry, yet martins will.

my brother has a massive room, he is living here at the moment while he sorts his flat out, it has an en suite and looks like something out of a english hotel guidebook, he's been living here for three weeks. my room is a tiny space with a bed that is to short for me so i have to sleep with my feet halfway out. no big deals, i'm adaptable and not complaining here, just looking at the situation, none of this means anything to me anymore, i'm just experiencing an experience that's imprinting heavily on me in a negative way.

my brother is always asked 'what would you like for dinner?' i have never been asked.
therefore i eat what my brother likes.

the house is filled with photographs of martin, not one of me.

every time my dad or mum goes out they ask martin if he needs anything or would he like to go with them, i never get asked.

anytime i attempt to speak to someone i am ignored or snubbed, interrupted or ridiculed and usually always compared to my brother.

i am constantly reminded how much the trip we are taking has cost them. jesus it's cost me a fortune that i put on my card, plus dead rent, dead bills and more important the time i am wasting here. or am i?

i am constantly having my mum wake me or yell from downstairs.

basically her voice fills whatever silence there is, it cuts through everything, when there is silence as the tvs are on loud, theres one in almost every room except mine. and what ever chance she gets to say something negative about me in front of jake she does. this is always re- enforced by martin. who has basically turned into a complete stranger to me.

i help, i move stuff around, i do the dishes and clean the floors, yet no one acknowledges that, not that i seek it but it would be remarkably normal to have some one just say 'thanks' instead i get told i'm using to much detergent or i placed a plate in the wrong shelve.

come on mission be honest, i hate this and i'm beginning to feel very sorry for these people who live in so much fear that behave like this, it's not even human to me, it's ugly and fucking destructive and the perfect example of everything i loath about people. my family gloat and take pleasure in making me unhappy. how can i even feel guilty about this? it's just sad.

as an experience i guess it's time for me to wake up and acknowledge this aspect of my history and life, so i need to be careful in determining if this is something that is bad or necessary to learn, although instinctively and intuitively i feel it's fucked up and bullshit that a man like me has to spend time learning that he is part of an abusive family that is devoid of love, understanding, respect and acknowledgement. maybe this is the way families are, i have no idea but it's not something i would chose and not something i would ever do to my children or siblings.
i know i am a freak, i know i don't belong here, i know i don't really have any real home here, it's not safe.
reality is multi dimensional, it has many facets and this is just one way to look at what's occurring, another way is there is sickness here, an energetic mish mash of weird genetic traumas and siege mentality, a terrible knot in the flow of energy in this family, it is as though the parts are absolutely broken and damaged there is no self reflection, empathy, sensitivity no caring, no love no feeling just a wave of emotional abuse directed at me. i have to somehow find some strength, some inner resource and attempt to heal it.
i think i will wait till we are in israel and i have places and friends i can retreat to when things get to much, i need to feel safe to do this and israel believe it or not is an incredibly safe space. for the moment i have to look inside myself and find the tools and allies that will heal me and them.

the dumbing down of england must have happened very fast, thanks to the eu and it's stupid ideology, mass migration of people is not an issue but the mass migration of people who have nothing to contribute or add to a culture is pointless, in fact in earlier posts i talk about the destructive meme, and here in england you can see the result of what happens when a host is infected. everything falls apart, very similar to a virus in a healthy body would begin to replicate and then entropy within the host, the host morphs into something that is unrecognisable, a mutation of the original template, and this continues as the meme spreads. here in the uk after a very long labour government and socialist like policy you only have to walk down the streets to see the shell shocked population.
the idea behind the eu is control, and although everyone is duped by it's surface and look, (think the recent star wars movie where there was a bunch of representatives from all over the galaxy talking about the greater good etc) the hidden agenda is very clear, it's in it's charter. one world government. now the idealist in me thinks, yeah well it makes sense but the realist and the experience says, this is possibly the most dangerous idea conceived in recent history, the fabric of society is the individual not the collective, the quality of the society rests in individual responsibility not collective, once the govt is removed from the people it acts indiscriminately and follows it's own agenda to engineer the collective. but first it must destroy the individual, this obviously starts at skool, where the individual is crushed and manufactured by an ideology inherent in the skools relationship to the state. the first thing that they do is destroy anyone who dares to think differently, here the young brain is forming, it is testing out the structures imposed upon it, deconstructing limits and boundaries and the more questions you ask the more of a problem you are, the very notion of initiative is considered dangerous. if don't believe me. go work in the public service. they are the government, no matter who you vote for you get the same public service.
the idea that the individual must now bend to the will of the masses and the control mechanism of the governing body is ancient, in rome they used the gladiatorial sports, in greece they used the ideal of the republic, in most other cultures in history they use religion, ask any witch from the middle ages, after all a witch is just a rebel in physics. at the turn of the century they used intellectualism and war, and now we have globalisation and one main cultural value.
globalisation is a good idea in theory, i like the idea of a network of linked commerce and exchange of ideas but the issue is the dominating ones, the most powerful meme begins to take control and what happens to the less virulent ones is they are attacked.
the mass destroys the individual. this is what has happened here, suddenly people are waking up as if they have been in an enchantment, they are looking around and seeing, mass migration into the country for the benefits of national health and social security, there are no other reasons why people chose england over spain, they are seeing the depletion of their culture, england as we know it is really dead and buried. you cannot fly an english flag here anymore without being fined. the only happy people you see are the people who host the tv shows, the weather man the newsreader, the talk show host, and we know that grin is a side effect of to much botox, the rest of the country is lulled into a shopping frenzy for cheap products and consumerism gone mental, people have lost the ability to question, to think. the thinking is done for them. everyone is beaten down to a financial status, poor, middle class, rich, but the boundaries are up, there's no chance of me having a coffee with a tim or and evan here, no chance of me writing some of the stuff i write without the pc police pouncing upon me, there's the globalisation of culture the fake tan of the hideous socialist hybrid with communism dressed up in a capitalist nightmare, as the world is rewired for mass consumption, control and power slip away, soon there won't be any individuals, just useless societies, impotent and sleepwalking through a day dream as they chew down on fast food, pointlessly entertained with fodder and brainwashing media, journalist write opinion pieces, priests sleep with children, the river is filled with chemical waste and the jungle cleared for palm sugar, the gorillas are not in the mist anymore, they are in zoos in downtown dubai airport where you can buy a bottle of scotch for $5 but if you hold hands with your partner you get a crowd of androids throwing rocks at you, yeah it won't be long now londonistan, death to the individual.death to personal responsibility, death to freedom of expression, death to my individual rights over a collective, death to fucking life. but you will never take me down. never.

the strangest news i heard today was the jamie oliver backlash against his skool dinner program in the uk, apparently most people think he has no right telling parents what to give their kids for lunch and he is resented as being interfering with their children's lives and choices.
yeah like lou reed says,

All your two-bit psychiatrists
are giving you electroshock
They said, they'd let you live at home with mom and dad
instead of mental hospitals
But every time you tried to read a book
you couldn't get to page 17
'Cause you forgot where you were
so you couldn't even read

Don't you know they're gonna kill your sons
don't you know gonna kill, kill your sons
They're gonna kill, kill your sons
until they run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run away

Mom informed me on the phone
she didn't know what to do about dad
Took an axe and broke the table
aren't you glad you're married
And sister, she got married on the island
and her husband takes the train
He's big and he's fat
and he doesn't even have a brain

They're gonna kill your sons
don't you know they're gonna kill, kill your sons
Don't you know they're gonna kill, kill your sons
until they run away

my brother has not spoken to me for three days, usually when he does since my arrival it is to mention my failed relationships and my ex's, my lack of being financially flush or my weight. he will do all of this while we are with jakob. this is my fucking family who think i am rude. anyway i admit i am a fat fuck at the moment.

i went into watford, a place i can only describe as inhabited by zombies, alcoholics, mass murderers and the walking dead. honestly who sucked the life out of this place? what evil force is at work here, you can taste the despair. is this what life is like for millions of people, wandering around aimlessly, already dead. the place is crawling with eastern europeans, they flock into the good old uk for the free health, housing, cash payments and education, the tax payers pay for this and in return they get well i don't know what they get.
this is the shape of things to come, the european union has forced europe to accept people into it's borders to work, complete free movement of all populations within europe and seeing as though the uk had a healthy socialist like hand outs to it's citizens why wouldn't you want to migrate here, i would if i was a mindless zombie living on cigarettes and alcohol, it's amazing,
i'm in a bookshop making a transaction.
'oh you have a nice accent where are you from?'
'actually i went to school here but ended up in australia where i have lived for the last 22 years.'
'are you on holiday?'
'no, visiting my mental mother and my dad.'
'when was the last time you were here?'
'about 9 years ago.'
'you must have noticed a change?'
'oh yes, a big one.'
'what was it?'
'well for starters the tv is crap, even worse than australia and there's a kind of sickness here like the whole country just got sick and can't recover.'
'what do you mean?'
'well i don't know, i'm answering your question as best i can, i'm still a bit shocked about being here.'
'well what else have you noticed about the place.'
'it has no vitality, the way buildings are falling apart, the roads are a mess, the way gardens are empty and dead, the way there are no animals anywhere, the way there's no happy people, the way people move around. the dead shops, the products all cheap and nasty, the lack of care, the lack of quality, the whole country is changed, i don't recognise it, it's not england, hardly anyone speaks english here anymore.'
'you don't recognise it, how do you think we feel.' she says, 'it happened so fast, no one had any time to change it, it just happened and now we are all reeling.from it.'
'what exactly happened?' i ask.
'the labour govt. tony blair and gordon brown and the dammed eu and now the people are wondering what happened to the country.'
'well really it is the end of countries,' i say, 'basically all borders are no longer geographically defined. the physical ideal of a border is changing and no longer relevant. instead what's occurring is the ideological country where the new populations may live in geographically different areas and parts of the world but they are connected by their ideology. and that makes them a country.'
she calls over the rest of the staff and asks me to repeat it. i do, they listen and nod their heads. some ask me questions and some want a better explanation which i give them. it's a strange life, i always wanted to do a bookshop reading or literary thing but here i am giving one to the staff.
'come back and talk some more' they say as i am walking out.






'

what's going on?
i'd have to make an intuitive guess here.
i'm not martin.
i never became a corporate puppet or a great financial success, all the years i was driven to becoming a lawyer or surgeon i just moved further into the arts, and further away from the idea of following all my peers, middle class jewish kids with no imagination or capacity to think about anything other than following their genetic program and fulfilling parental expectations buying flash cars, big homes, holidays to miami with their trophy wives, those idiots are now all having mental breakdown in psychiatric wards or lost everything in the GFC.
now i was no easy kid, i was a fucking individual from day one, never did anything that other kids did, never liked the same food, games, tv shows never followed the herd, i was a voracious reader who spent all my money on literature while other kids spent their pocket money on sweets and fireworks but skool finished me, i hated skool, what an abject nightmare, a soul crushing experience. i never learnt anything at skool except for english where my teacher said i had the skills to be a writer. one person in 8 years of edukation saw my potential and encouraged it. i should fucking sue the skool. having said that i left with great qualifications, it surprised everyone including me. however even now when they send me on courses at work and stuff i excel, people find it unnerving the discrepancy between what i look like, how i present and my intellect. i'd do the same, i don't blame them, everyone fears my physical appearance, but they fear me more when they find out i have a brain and it's loaded.
intellect is nothing, let me state, it's just the ability to juggle ideas and expand and contract informational systems, most of which have very little to do with anything real. people who can wank on about facts and figures are just another form of idiot, i actually think most intellectuals are wankers to eg. noam chomsky is just a jumped up trotsky trapped in memetic cages. the people i dig are not intellectuals, they are wise. lao tzu is my hero when it comes to brain power. you see an intellectual can make some intelligent statement and later another can come along and disprove it. for example stephen hawkings theory of black holes, once thought to be the absolute truth when it came to the science of black holes was disproven about 20 years later by leonard susskind. wisdom is forever baby,
anyways where was i, oh yeah the skool years, jesus i hated all that shit, it was mass production of the sausage meat mind.and man there were a bunch of sausages at my skool and that's just the teachers.
anyways i bucked the system all the way until i met my collage lecturer miss evans who said to me, 'mission you have to be in the system to beat it.'
see a wise woman.
anyways all i am saying is my star has a different orbit than martins, he judges me with his critical gaze and perceives me through his judgements, he creates a picture of me that fits his judgement, yet this is so far away from me it's abstractly absurd.
mum however has a mental illness.
now the strangest thing is 22 years ago in sydney where i started working i reached the pinnacle of the corporate ladder in my field founding the housing connection with anne louise, jo macdonnah and our management committee., i trained staff, had a team of 20 people working under me and at the height of my game quit. no family to witness that, no letters home writing to people to say 'i'm a fucking success' no blog announcements, why? because i know who i am and what i am worth. and that's all that counts.