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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Encore:
Splitting The Atom
Unfinished Sympathy
Atlas Air
Karmacoma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

this morning i spend my time fiddling with i tunes, i phones and attempting all sorts of strange gymnastics with creating appropriate music folders, it's well hard. I'm confused by the whole process, why are things not going where i want them, why are some things just greyed out, what does all this mean, how can i interpret the information when it seems so straightforwards yet will not work, mmm, i do my best and hope for the best. i have probably done it correctly but we will see.
i'm not a technological person, i'm not really very practical at all, all my skills are with words, see here's an example...

...velvet majestic waves of neon sensuality wrapped around her body as the tentacles started to explore her, between the moments of terror she also experienced the zenith of euphoria, what was this alien sensation, this strange heat that aroused yet petrified. her clothes seemed to fall away and the massive tendrils seemed to ooze a purple slime that was like being bathed in some kind of frictionless lubricant, the boundaries began to merge, her mind seemed to fall away and soon she was lost in a pleasure beyond description, a physical, emotional, spiritual bliss had engulfed her. her last thoughts before total obliteration was, wow, i never thought first contact would be like this, they certainly never trained me in diplomatic corps for this. she smiled.

so you see, i better stick to what i am good at.