wandering along the shoreline, following the starfish trail, the waves are tranquility blue, layered in a network of codes and lattice like information, i read the energy and inhale the negative ions. it's almost green today, crisp air, sharp and blade like while the rising sun begins to make a slight difference, dial turning up, skin adjusting. it's all so beautiful. 
not many out this early, mostly people stick to the path whereas today i've gone off track, onto the sand. when my cousin came out here he declared it was the most beautiful and fave place he had ever seen.  he loved it, whereas i love it and let it love me. 
the birds are healthy, clean and filled with an energy that keeps them young. they swoop down to investigate and a couple of pelicans circle above my head. 
the water is free from people, no surfers, swimmers, boats, it's moving form is nebulous liquid and when i get to the golden path i stop. 

my salutation to neptune. it's been a long time since we communed.

okay, it's been a while since i wrote anything political or controversial but here are my thoughts, her's what i think and no doubt it's going to cost me but it's time to listen.

firstly i understand how you felt about trump, you read the sydney morning herald, you watch and listen to the abc, you believe these guys are the gospel, why would we think differently. i have an advantage, i followed all that socialist bullshit as a kid, and religiously read the guardian. i believed in them and then they sold out sarah tisdall a young public servant who like me thought these people were onside. the guardian fucking sold her out and she went to jail because she had a conscious. these left winger i learnt have no principle, they fight a side no matter what it is who it is or what they say. this is why they cancel people. the argument makes no sense, their arguments are riddled with hypocrisy and double standards and the media lie about almost everything that does not push their globalist agenda. 

now as an adult i find myself alienated in my lack of respect for the left, i see through the academic intellectual ideology, i see through the university brainwashed thinking, the weapons they use are absurd. they call racists, sexists out at every chance while ignoring their own. 

not that i have much respect for the other side, i loathe them to but i'm capable of following an argument on policy without attaching it to a side. a good idea is a good idea. 

when trump came along i was happy as he was not a politician, he was no great orator but he did make a commitment to, 'drain the swamp,' and the swamp is vast and wide and deep. it's the deep fucking state.

from the word go the establishment attacked him, called him a russian agent and ignored all the incredible things he did economically. all i expect from any govt. is to get a good economy in their country. they tried to nail him every chance they got, they humiliated him, banned him, lied through their teeth about him and denigrated any achievement he made. when asked why they were out to get him he replied, 'they are not really out to get me, they are out to get you, i am just in their way.'

the most powerful statement ever made by any president.

cancelled!

so we got biden in a stolen election, (chinese hackers working with some naughty democrats like pelosci) sure joe was promoted by all the establishment, hollywood, wall street (who just lost a trillion dollars of american workers pension funds to the chinese), the left and the usual suspects but he's suffering demetia and will be removed soon. it's elder abuse to keep him propped up while he forgets who and where he is. his son and him got a free pass from the media when they knew hunter was having sex with underage kids, on the payroll of the chinese govt. and being used to gain access to his dad. 

while western govts, america and australia funded wuhan scientists in gain of function research the chinese knew only one man on the global stage stood in the way of their ambition, hong kong, tiawan and the south pacific. it was trump. 

the war had already started 10 years earlier, via the economy. china had been buying up strategic points all over the globe. it had become the manufacturing agent of the world thanks to weak western leadership and dumb decisions made by left and right globalists. the un had already done the work, modelled itself of chinese communism under the alluring concept of the great reset, a mish mash of technology, environmentalism, socialism and control, i call technocracy.

this is where the individual is ruled by the expert, only the expert is on the payroll of the dictator. thus china moved into the second stage of its war and released flights directly into the wold infected with covid while restricting internal flights. the biological warfare caught us by surprise, even now no body has looked into the genesis of the event. the who is corrupt and on the chinese payroll so their investigation was compromised. and now a year and a half later we see troops on the streets of sydney keeping people in check should they take of their mask. 

the truth is this c-19 is a deadly virus that kills less than 0.01% of the infected, usually those with compromised immune systems and vaccines should be used for those people. but know this, vaccines create mutations and variants, it's simple evolutionary biology, and ironically all the automatons that blurt out how much they follow science are not following science at all. they are following the technocracy. the science has been cancelled. the vaccines have a life of 6 months, if people had researched the pharmaceutical companies they would have seen the investor page where investors were told they would have annual returns on the software of the vaccine as it had to be administered and updated. 

think. if they really wanted to keep you safe they would have said use hydroxychloroquine which is tested has a very high success rate against c-19 and is safe. same with invermectin which pulled india out of an appalling death rate quickly. these facts have been cancelled.

why was the govt health experts not telling people to increase their intake of vitamin c and d and zink and eat vegetables and avoid processed foods. the masks inhibit oxygen which we need, the social distancing creating anxiety and depression which compromise the immune system. why are the streets of south west sydney filled with soilders enforcing these stupid rules while the beaches of east sydney are packed. why is the biden administration forcing vaccines on people including children while letting 2 million people through the mexican border who are untested. 

if you have a critical eye, nothing about this makes sense, there are so many inconsistencies, olympic games, sports is allowed but numbers at a funeral have to be limited?  

you have to have swallowed the cool aid if you trust the technocracy have your interests at heart, or if you think they are benevolent. they are the same bastards that have been in control for the last 30 years, getting more and more control from the individual. so much control they now tell you when you are sick. 

these experimental vaccines have not been tested, they are not fda approved and the cdc is now admitting they do not work. investigate the spike protein in your body. it's the most dangerous weapon in this war. 

it took me almost 50 years to get around to reading dune, which many say is the best sc fi novel ever written.  i can understand why it holds that title. now all i want to do is read the sequence and see what herbert does with his story and where he takes us.

i can't say it is the best sci fi novel i have read but it certainly is amongst the top, it's scale is massive and the story once you crack it moves fast and has considerable nuance. 

 

the spice must flow

i never read dune as a kid, although i had enjoyed almost all the other sci fi classics. dune somehow had slipped through the keeper and although i had two attempts knew i was not really ready for it. it's funny when that happens, intuitively i know when i need to wait before i read a book, sometimes it's decades. 
so the new film is being made by denis villenuve a dirctor i have always loved since seeing incinderies in 2010. the fact he is even considering an epic as dune does make a strange kind of logic when you think of his body of work. 

so as looked at the books i had yet to read i chose a few but it was dune that ended up in my travelling bag. i took it with me, yet it was only on my flight back i began to read it.

i'm still into it, 

it's incredible, i understand what the fuss was all about. it's a perfect plot, brilliant characters and a perfect example of world building, comparable with lord of the rings although a completely different concept. 

i did see david lynch's version, the short one and the redux 3 hour cut. it was sketchy, as was the tv series which at least serialized the second book as well. the tv version was written and directed by english sci fi writer john harrison, so it had that going for it.

anyway's back to the book.

i'm loving it, the concept, the ideas are so relevant. an environmental spiritual treatise with political intrigue and subversion. truly a science fiction great.

the spice must flow. 

lot's of movements, it's strange these days, i hardly know where i am, sleeping in a different house each night, moving through people like a phantom, new connections, old faces, new places, the promise of a better future. i get one single day respite, a day of rain where i crash on my sofa and fall into a deep sleep. my mind carries me upriver, some kinda electric dream in blue. sex and death with old captain mission. conrad meets burroughs. i splay some voodoo, deal with amanda and her white worm lust. i'm living a stranger life than ever, no one would believe the things i have done, life stranger than fiction. i peek outside, the moon seems bright for a moment, the stars reveal themselves and then clouds close in like a curtain at an old theatre.

on with the show, the show must go one. more rain, more hours frittered away in a strange narcolepsy where dreams collide with dreams and new dreams are birthed. 

where do dreams go to die?

they go as far north as i can get.

the invite comes out of the blue and it's timing is perfection, but we have a tocking ticking clock to beat as things in the city begin to heat up. the c-19 is back, came out the blue and into the streets, i guess opening up flights from india was a miscalculation, connotations of racism lurk under the surface but whatever the flights arrived and bring in the delta strain. 

my travelling companion wants to fly out early but i'm stuck in a fixed coordination. i do encourage her to leave early and escape but she sticks it out and we rendezvous at the airport early morning. wandering around the empty departure lounge i notice our flight is the only one out for the city, it could be cancelled at any time as down the feed we hear about lock-down. 

on the plane as we lift of i count my blessings, whatever deities pull my strings they seem to have good fortune towards me. men of good fortune cause empires to fall i whisper to lou reed, well that's something at least. behind me everything fades.

up the cost we check into a friendly cottage in a cool seaside village. the shops are just across the street and there's some cool restaurants nearby. my generous friend takes me for many fabulous dinners, the best mexican food ever in a funky joint that has her picture painted on the wall in a large south american style. it's uncanny. i dunno, i'm kinda new to mexican food. 

the days begin to melt, i watch a lot of good shows on the stream, i read and sleep, lots of lounging around and my body begins to revert to it's default settings. my dreaming becomes intense saturated in high concept and drama like qualities, always percolating a future. one morning i wake up after a colourful dream that was more acid trip, i'm literally reeling from the whole experience like a phycadelic experience.  

the second week we move to a seaside apartment that is literally on a secluded beach. it's magnificent, and i sit on the balcony watching the ocean and scanning the three islands. colourful birds visit us and as we nest in a huge comfy sofa we watch movies and sleep. 

one day we drive to bellingen. i discover some incredible blueberry jam. we literally put it upon everything we eat afterwards. strangely a few days after returning to sydney i meet a woman whom informs me through casual conversation her best friend owns a farm in bellingen that grows blueberries and makes a niche jam. go figure.

the days merge into luxury as i sleep, walk, eat and watch movies. my companion has good tastes in drama and we binge watch all the stuff i need to see.

on the return as we land i'm picking up the urgency of sydney's lockdown. it's serious shit, complete control surrendered to our authorities. delta strain changes everything. the fascists move to the left. the goon squad are in town running the show.

i go home, feed my fish, check my mail and the messages. i start my car and take it for a spin. later at home i make some tea, shower and sleep. it's colder now. rainfall in witch road, the wind rattles along the roof. 

back to work tomorrow.   

 

   

  

 kings cross late at night, it's not what i remember, deserted streets, less neon, people and traffic. my big nights in kings cross do not come back, in fact i am surprised by how much i walk towards my destination without memory intruding. i'm following my phone which is telling me i am 20 minites drive away from where i need to be. impossible, this place is near the station and i need to be there on time.

i notice two girls fumbling in a door way and ask if they know where my destination is. 

they are very helpful and friendly but say they have no idea where it could be. i ask them if they know the number of the apartment they are entering, and when they tell me i work out it's literally two doors away from where i need to be. i thank them and wander down the street to a brightly illuminated entrance, where crystal balls, tarot cards and incense greet me, along with some bohemian types.

they make a big fuss over me, offer me food wine and i decline politely. there's a few chairs in front of a screen and some interesting faces. but along the walls are many old books and volumes that my eyes gaze upon and scan. 

i'm early and although i must say i liked the range of books nothing leaps out, except an issac beshev singer hardback that contains three novels all of which i have. but it's unusual, i've never seen a volume like that before. he's an author i adore.

later i grab a seat second row from the front, i put my bag down to claim it while i use the bathroom. when i return it's been taken by a large man and his estonian girlfriend. i move to the only vacant chair, front row.

when i first arrived in sydney i hung out in / on the cross, particularly at the book shop 'ex librus' which happened to be next door to 'barons' my fave bar. the old guy that ran 'ex librus' was surprised to encounter a strange english guy with long dreads whom seemed to have a well versed background in the magickal arts and esoteric lore but i was a new guy in town and needed to connect with sydney's current. 

from there i picked up a book called the witch of kings cross. it was a novel, a love story based around a woman artist called rosaleen norton. i enjoyed the book, a terrible tragedy about a scandalous affair between a famous conductor and rosaleen that shocked society. i liked rosee, she was amazing and obviously i investigated her amazed to discover she was not a work of fiction. when i finally saw her artwork, wow! i was bowled over. not just because it was so powerful but because it was so authentic. there were traces of austin spare, and lady harris but with much more power and blatant sexual energy.

i found her inspirational. 

last night i sat with the director sonia bible and a few lucky bohemian types and watched a private screening of a documentary called, 'the witch of kings cross.'

it was brilliant.

i really hope sonia reaps the rewards as she put so much of herself into this. and it appears had the blessing of rosee's family and rosee herself.

stunning!

 

 

i have a new pair of sunglasses, they see the world through a new type of lenses, ultra visionary blue, they work in the fringe spectrums, picking up light that comes from the future. they were constructed on anteries 11 using technology that we would define as impossible and well beyond the laws of known science, yet anterians have a sophisticated quantum science that manipulates light and time, giving them access into the future. obviously technology like this is very difficult to get hold off for an earthbound person, the military have some of this stuff they keep in a place known as area 77, the russian authority also has some but they don't know what it does and the icelandic peoples have some as well but they keep it in an ice cave until they decode the instructions. various indigenous aboriginal cultures have full knowledge of these alien artefacts but they have no use for it and i have heard there is a girl in arizona that also has a pair of these specific uvb glasses but she is mute so it looks like i am the only other human with this technology.

like all my wetware it's an established protocol i use in stealth, a sort of remote viewing time travel mixture. not just the future but also past events. unfortunately i cannot intervene due to various temporal consequences but i can observe. 

last night i self administered the ritual in preparation for the experience, laborious and somewhat arcane, it's funny how future alien tech requires such an anomaly such as ritual and vibration to prepare for it's use. the glasses themselves just appear like sunglasses but the eye's relationship to them changes when the rites are completed.

so hacked in evb i got a fix upon a few new things happening over the horizon, not for disclosure but somewhat concerning. i guess all i can say is humans still navigate through the moral maze while adapting to confirmation biases and their own attachment to whatever foolish thing they have invested in. 

cosmetically beautiful to the tourist sydney has it all. a glorious climate, pristine beaches, blue skies and a decent mix of people, cultures and styles but as i wander through the familiar i'm struck by the sight of the homeless people. their bodies curled up in shop fronts, seeking refuge in parks and under bridges, the homeless never used to be so many in numbers and today, this afternoon i met my first female beggar. 
expectations shattered immediately. she lay there on a small sleeping bag on a crowded street with a hand written sign that states simply, 'don't hurt me' but looked immaculate, quite stunningly beautiful, even in her poverty she maintained her dignity. 
i scanned her on several dimensions, firstly as i mentioned her appearance was incredible, not only well dressed and stylish but her teeth were perfectly cosmetic. it was an anomaly. 
she also wore no jewellery, which seemed contradictory to a young girl her age, not even an ear ring, no visible tattoo's. her footwear was a pair of designer angle length baseball boots and they were clean, as if brand new. 
she sat upon her sleeping bag in some sort of yoga pose, her hair cut short and her nose looked noble and elegant, slightly turned upwards as though she were to good for this world.
i couldn't see her eyes clearly and as i walked passed her i felt a compulsion to ask if she was okay. it was a strange indecisive moment as my own processing was in conflict over the decision. if i spoke to her i may regret it and yet i was curiously drawn to find out more.
i can't describe the processing speed of my thinking, it was quantum, yet like a slow moving ping pong match where all arguments manifested as moves within my mind, and the game that took an hour took a micro second as the arguments for, cut through the ones against, in wonderfully precise aces.
i was standing before her before i knew it.
'are you okay? can i buy you a coffee?'
she looked up at me, she gazed into my eyes making me feel awkward and vulnerable, self conscious as i looked upon her
slightly asian face, a hint of japanese i think.
she smiled the mona lisa smile and bided me to join her at a level i would find uncomfortable and she would find non threatening. i crouched down and awkwardly placed myself upon her blankets, next to her.
i realised she may be mute, her mouth opened but no sounds emitted, just a strange tangled drone, as though she were trying to say something but became stuck upon the first syllable.
i grabbed my note book and a pen, passed it to her and she immediately began scribbling. not words but an intricate doodle, a fine line of black upon the white page, scrawled around in circular patterns and strange shapes.

i watched mesmerised. 
then in a elegant twist of her had she held the page towards me so i could look at it. it was a complex twirl of patterns, some circles, some triangles and some strange squares. the first thing that struck me as i looked upon this pattern was how similar it was to a crop circle. 

i purchased a coffee for her and a muffin, left her on her blanket and shuffled off to the train station.

in the carriage i took out my notebook and found the drawing. it really was amazing, she had drawn circles that were precise circles, her design was quite beautiful but what the hell did it mean. as i looked at it i began to see within the detail was even deeper detail, and within that even more. just like mirrors facing mirrors, it was infinite, fractal. it must mean something i wondered. my mind pulled me further and further inside the pattern, and eventually i stopped wondering what it meant or could signify, my mind must have surrendered to the experience without any defensive mechanisms, my mind just vanished and i was falling into the patterns infinite depth until i reached no mind.

from that point things got weird. 

i'd once read a book by a guy who wrote of an alien species called the pattern jugglers, they live in the ocean upon many planets and if one submerges in the waters and returns to the land your mind is completely different than upon entrance. they impart or exchange knowledge from other intelligences that have swum within their waters and sometimes if the individual has swum for to long their body is absorbed and they become part of the alien entity. 

this felt similar. 

i had lost my self. it was not difficult as my own self off self is as elusive as any ocean, there are key words i use to define whatever that is but at the end of the day these words are just words. the metaphor is possibly the closest truth we can ever aspire to. except i had pushed beyond. language fell away, my mind opened up to the size of a universe. no body. i am no body. not a poet but part of the poem.

and then suddenly i understood the sigil was activating part of me. feeding me certain spaces within my mind. within the pattern was the girl herself. she was not human, but human. she was dancing in a field of flowers, the moon above her. she smiled and gave me something, it was another pattern this time drawn upon parchment. again as i gazed upon it i began to drown. it was glorious.  

i'm being force fed waffles at a niche cafe down the beach, she's spent almost two hours hounding me to meet her and join her for coffee and eventually i just give in. i mean i have some time and it's a beautiful morning. nothing else happening.

when i get there she's waving one hand over her head, sunglasses on, scarves wrapped around her shoulders like some 60s movie star. as i approach she stands up and leans in for the kiss. there's nothing i can do, resistance is low, i'm so fatalistic the next two hours will be painful as i'm force fed waffles and stories of her exploits in business. oh dear, i hope she don't ask me to invest. 

i smother my waffles in blueberry sauce and start shovelling them down, horrible fucking things, i chew em up and feel so sick as i swallow the big thick wads of whatever evil shit makes waffles. my mouth can feel the blueberry busting, sweet goo slips down the back of my throat and although i have to have some form of conversation with her my mouth stuffed full of waffles it gives me a reason not to.

'it's been such a lovey year for the trade darlink,' she says loud enough for people to overhear. i wish i could just hide my head in shame but all i can do is waffle my waffles and nod my head.

'the market just seemed to explode and now we have america i just feel so blessed.'

i attempt to ask her a banal question but with a mouthful of waffle it just comes out muffled. so i smile nod my head and slump into some sort of weird dejection as my glamorous  companion seems to somehow have ordered more waffles for the table. 'eat, eat, you look so malnourished, i simply must come over and cook for you, i think you need my squid ink pasta darlink, it's divine. tonight would be perfect, i'll bring wine, you like pinots right? you must try the sidewood i have a 2017, it's divine, now have you had your cards read recently, you came up in my readings...'

and on it went, onwards into the drone sound one gets at mind body festivals, middle class women talking about their buddhist practice.

there is only so many waffles a man can eat and if you are a man who hates waffles the number is diminished but she just kept ordering them as i become weighed down by them, they absorbed into my bloodstream and cells, my brain became a big blueberry waffle blob, a trapped audience as she went on and one about her new enterprises, shopping trips, her garden, her spiritual practice, the need for cashmere sweaters and if abc national was becoming to repetitive (possibly the only thing i could agree with but not in a way she would understand)

lets face it she was successful. not unattractive but really loud and flaunting her wealth made her kind of ugly in my book. i mean i've known wealthy people but they are all understated, whereas marylyn just looked like she belonged on san tropez sipping moet with some racing car driver on one arm and some greek shipping magnate on the other. as usual i'm completely out of place. but she is a force to be reckoned with and eventually when the waffles run out i am wrapped in her arms as she kisses me on the cheek and asks if i would like to walk along the beach with her.

'we can put our shoes in my car,' she suggests.

'oh, er i really need to get back, mission control needs me, my sofa needs me, i need my sofa. i need to close my eyes, sink into the depths of some oblivion where there are no sounds, no lights, no people. but what do i know, waffles dumb all resistance down, it's like fluoride, just makes you more susceptible to suggestion so before i know about it, i've dumped my boots in her car and find myself wandering hand in hand down to the shoreline.

thankfully the water is warmer than the air and not freezing, it's quite beautiful, crystal clear and clean. azure blue. 

i stop to look at pieces of debris, that has washed up in the tidal flow of last nights full moon. the sand feels good between my toes, the water laps my feet and despite my waffle stuffed body i figure the day will get better, 'let's just keep walking' she says, 'to the next town.'

first sensible thing she has said. i start to warm up.  

 

ah uh, ha! ha!

i was half heartedly laughing at the joke. i didn't get the punch line but these natives don't like it if you question them. i don't get it, it's a cultural thing. i don't know why your fucking laughing at some thing that has no intelligence, it's not like its a bright observation. its not an interesting story or remotely humorous it's just scatological nonsense and i'm differently wired man, i got an independent analysis. i demand something better than just having my intelligence insulted. i don't find that kind of stuff funny man, it's dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. sure you can be dirty and nasty but it's gotta have a context, saying rude words every five minutes is just infantile and boring. my sensibilities expect quality in all things, humour comes in many forms, if your making observational humour then you need to open your eyes and your mind. not just tell a story and pack it with swearing and a dumb conclusion. 

back at terrigal, hordes of people out in the morning sunshine supernova, that autumn light blinds and bounces, it collides and explodes in consequences, time warps and detours. i follow my flow down to the cafe and grab myself a take away coffee. the waves crash at my feet as i position myself , big beautiful perfect shapes and sounds. everything here is in harmony.  coffee tastes good, i watch the horizon, some intergalactic transmissions are received.

everything speeds up now. i slow it down to snails pace, move through the speed. relativity calls me from florida and we discuss the idea of boats, key west i say. but i am quite happy sitting here, bathed in light, smothered in sound, receiving the signal. 

as i head home i notice my driving has changed, i'm slow, a cruising relaxed slow. soaking it all in. no need for speed now. i have time.

back at mission control i sit on the balcony, stretch out with my book, 'the luminous dead' and wonder about why people would go caving on other planets let alone in the earth. 

im smoking a joint with a woman who claims to be a mathmatitician, she works as a scientists in a research centre. i confess in a cloud of exhaled smoke i am useless at maths and relate a story about my moment of mathematical genius where i plugged into the akashic records and pulled out a logarithmic answer to a geometry question i was asked when i attended skool in london. the purpose of the question was to humiliate me in front of my peers whom all held their logarithmic tables open in front of them while my book was closed. 
'mission what's the sine off...blah blah blah,' mr locket said, in his usual sarcastic and prematurely triumphant tones as he awaited my pathetic attempt.
immediately i gave an answer, it was something like 8.674329.
his face looked down upon the tables in his hand as his eyes followed the lines and then a look crossed his face, it was disbelief crossed with defeat and then instead of acknowledging i had the correct answer he moved on to someone else. 
the scientist starts flirting with me, as if impressed yet i confess i have no mathematical ability entrusting the satori to divinity.
i ask her if it's all numbers, she says yes.
i ask her if we live in a simulation, she says, 'so what if we do?'
i suggest hack it.

she said it would be impossible and i reply, 'i've done it.'

she shows me her breasts.

i wonder if this is something that women do as a response to an certain biological pattern, possibly entrenched within a mating ritual. i dunno, i'm kinda not that interested in her but bemused at how often this happens. 

i don't respond but ask her about the books she has upon her shelves, a selection of science and fantasy. interesting mix.

she asks if i read fantasy.

no, i generally avoid it but i have read the important ones, mervyn peak, tolkien, c. s. lewis and scott bakker. 

she speaks about the 'wheel of time.'

i say, i may one day read sanderson.

then she asks me if i know what the true nature of time is?

'yes,' i say, 'if you hack the universe then you have to understand time.'

we change the subject as someone else joins us, the mathmatitician wants me to go outside with her and smoke bongs, whereas i like the warm indoors.

i speak with her friend who is working with tina arena (crazy world) and i blurt out how much i like one of her songs but i do mention how much i like her as well, she's always been really cool to watch being interviewed. 

the woman agrees and says she is great to work with.

together the three of us watch some tv show, i get a lesson in streaming services and an introduction to a series called, 'jane the virgin.'

one of the girls wraps me in a warm cardigan and i find myself becoming very relaxed, she's almost naked while i'm wrapped up in layers of clothes. i can see where this may go and make my excuses to leave, it's been an interesting evening but i can't say i'm in the mood for any carnal adventures, all i want to do is get back to mission control. i must be getting old.

system upgrades all around, my chaos matrix plugs into the universal engine, it's a discombobulating experience, where mental processes are restored with optimal functionality for manifestation. i used a few ancient techniques but now everything happens at q levels, some sort of inner system of conciseness (unconsciousness) guides me. last night i tuned into a babalon presence that was occurring in the blue mountains area, i dunno how, i just felt it and responded. i guess it's frequency based. anyway lilith says to me, fill her cup so i do.

there's some elegant exchanges, subliminal occurrences, i feel the energy vibrate around my skin, expanding outwards, picking up information in the exchange. i spark up new energy centres, my mind is everywhere, like the exploding universe, i ride the wave, the face of the 'bang' filling up void with zen type. the choas matrix sends me into the new. new captain mission, new adventures, a new age. light explodes everywhere. 

am i a god now? part of god perhaps. i can do anything i want.

what do i want?

2021 is proving to be the year of the ex girlfriend, as another long lost love contacts me. this time meredith, and wow, i'm so surprised. it's great, really great to resume contact. she tells me her head injury turned into epilepsy, we both laugh at what happened to us. simultaneous brain injuries. very strange. anyway that was pretty good to hear from her.

so i'm at home for a few days, clearing up some stuff, organising paperwork. the days a bit wet and light rainfall makes the sunlight filter into a glistening sheen. when i pop out to 'buddha cafe' for a light lunch i notice a few amazing plants and end up buying four.

my home is transforming. indoor jungle.   

as i move through life in slow motion i see the detailed fractures in the systems, the cracks where information fails. i reconcile the dark energy with the energy, i understand the binary codes of existence here.  the secret is in application, and then the equation of faith.
faith.

i work with a lady called hope, she is new and i always tease her about my relationship with her sisters. i don't have one with hope, i say, hope is the expectation of faith. it's a minor difference but nuanced. details like this matter i guess.

good fortune comes to me, i seem to be on a winning streak, i win the lottery almost every week now, much bigger denominations than ever, never over $100 but when my total expenditure is only $10 it's a good investment. maybe it's true, money attracts money. my house just got valued at $900,000, an absurd amount considering i paid peanuts for it. now i've done some significant work on it, new bathroom, amazing balcony, de cluttering, new lighting, it's actually looking amazing. i have no wish to move. i like hanging out here, and the coast is thriving now, even down the beach the buzz is incredible. from dawn to midnight, the place is packed with new bars, clubs, restaurants. i tend to hang out at the hotel looking down upon the beach, a coffee, my book and the feeling of perspective as i see the vast expanse before me. the new walkway looks amazing, people jogging, walking their beasts, pushing prams, it's a busy little bay all the way to the skillion where at the peak you can watch the whales migrate past. 

things are good. very good.

 

 

blasting 'on sunset' the album of 2020 at mission control i am really enjoying the 'plain bad heroine' book, which is grungy and sexy yet quite gothic. it's like emily bronte for punks, fucking great writing.

these days are melting away all negative energy, i bask in sun, lay on my new chaise, smoke a joint and catch up on sleep. my dreams are very vivid, rich and filled with adventures, people faces, exotic landscapes, rich colours and environments. there's an optimism in the air, i can feel it in my blood. i go for early morning surfs, drink coffee at dawn, complete my cleaning and things shift and morph as i clear out mental junk. 

this morning the sun beat down upon my shoulders, it felt like my skin was heating up, absorbing it's energy in photosynthesis like procedures, light eating. i watched the energy dancing upon the water, waves came in, washed at my feet, kissing and blessing me. it feels good to be alive. 

i have a few days to myself, it's rare but i am grateful to be able to spend some time at home. i don't have a big plan just need to tidy up and catch up on sleep, the last few months have left me exhausted.  i am in the middle of a good read, the novel 'plain bad heroines' which is  an excellent story built upon the gothic elements i love plus exceptional characters in a contemporary environment, although the book is somewhat a palimpsest. 

tomorrow i get stuck into the jungle outside my door but today i will finish my lounge room, and start on the kitchen. it's becoming somewhat ridiculous. 

the new bathroom is wonderful, i'm enjoying my float sessions, sleeping so much better after them and really loving the ambience of home. 

i have no plan, everything is in a nice space of flow. a friend lent me a dvd to watch, it's called midsommer and if it's anything like ari's last movie it's going to freak me out so i may watch that one with a friend. 

i have a few k's of almond meal to use for something so i'm going to bake something later, not sure what, but i may go for something savoury and one thing i have perfected in the kitchen is nachos, wow, i make the best vegetarian nachos ever! that is a fact.

    

almost finished the book, 'william burroughs and the cult off rock and roll,' which is better than i thought it would be, the writer has done his research and knows his subject, there's a little new information in there for me to enjoy and a lot of stuff i had forgotten about, particularly the patti smith stuff and jerry garcia bits, i had no ideas jerry was a smack fiend. excellent look at the way william burroughs effected the musicians of the 20th century, from rock to rap.

 the weekend was pleasing, i enjoyed making a new friend although later was surprised she didn't really connect with me in the way i thought she did. i always said i was hard to connect with. i'm so divisive, expectations are often met by disappointment, some people expect something from me and then get some facet of mine which is equally not me as much as it is, i always have to tell people i'm a multitude. i guess only the magickal mind can perceive the magickal mind.

however i was somewhat dejected as i thought this may have possibilities. however i am always quick to remount and ride the unicorn again.

finally i sleep through a night, i program my dreams now, they seem to morph into their own archetypes and my lucidity is mutable, like the rest of me. i'm pushing boundaries in dreamscapes, pushing into the life i want to create. i've come a long way. money is no longer an issue, the universe bestows in the strangest ways, however i need to be frugal, i need to consider the fact things are never as they appear. 

writing- i'm tweaking a few things, they are far from perfect but the over riding need is to get these things out. i have to push, push harder.