i travel by train down to worthing to meet my old friends tez and jean, it seems srange seeing them in 3d as we usually speak via skype messenger. it's a short but very nice few days, the weather seems to confine us to indoors but we have a couple of excursions, some great food and late night chats. my strange sleepy maliase seems t overwhelm me and i find myself having seistas and retiring early. tez says it's due to the fact i am at rest, my body is easing into holiday mode but i think it may be something else, some sort of weirdness. however i enjoy my sleep and it's the best ret i have had in months. it's hard to leave them, but i return to london. the train journey sees me staring out the window at south london, as we roll passed battersea powerstation and all the horrible buildings, the strange homes and streets and the city seems part victorian, part 70's and mostly brutal. dark grey clouds and sleet don't help.

the next day i take a trip into london, wander around soho my old huants and carnaby street where i worked as a kid, down into covent gardens, i find a bagel shop and get a really good one. in foyles i pick up a few books, i avoid the esoteric bookshops as i have no cash. the city is heaving with people, and in a shop i meet an interesting italian lady, she's really nice and we strike up a conversation about olive oil, and i tell her about my love for italy. on the way home i notice all these young girls and women, dressed up to the nines, all looking glamourous and a woman with pink fingerpolish explains me someone called harry styles is in town, hence the girls. i have no idea who he is but london looks quite the spot with all these girls out and about.

i made the mistake of buying another caitlin starling book and once again what started as a great novel became a bad one 2/3rds through. it's a shame as i would like to find a few female writers i like but it's just not happening. the novel has a great premise and begins in a monstic castle under seige, and they are running out of food. the three charachters are very interesting, all female. one a waif whom sctraches together a life in the carverns discoveres a mysterious precence under the foundations which offers her a terrible bargin. the other is knight, a warrior who devotes herself to her king until he is supplanted by the arrival of the saints. these saints bring what appears like salvation but it is also a debuched fall into savagery and illusion. and the last charachjeter is a witch who has managed to use her powers to create water fit for drinking but cannot quite work out how to create food. 
while the monastry seems to decend into madness and horror the three women challenge the arrival of the saints and expose their true nature. it's a great story but the last bits seem to just fail in the same way as her previous novel, 'the luminous dead' did.

seven days, the season changed, the heat of spring reverts to a winter cold summer with rain to match. i've scrapped together some clothes from what's left from my dad's wardrobe, a highly unfashionable man who went for the greys, navy blues and innocuious lower wavelegths. i'm grateful although i look like a man out of time. 

i've been pottering around, there's not much left for me to take home, martin and jake got in first but the single painting i want is still hanging there. i measure it up and discover it's to big for my suitcase. i'll have to have it shipped out when jake returns with his stuff that's going into storage.

i've really enjoyed seeing my aunt  and uncle sydney and yolande and their son mark and his family. marks wife is one of the worlds greatest cheifs, she is amazing and i love her food better than anyone elses. she's also got a brilliant sence of humour and knowledge, in fact they are a very intelligent couple.

sometimes i hardly sleep, just reading and watching stupid tv shows. i did see the short series 'half man' which i liked for the same reason i liked 'baby reindeer.'

i have finished 'sleeper beach'by nick harkaway which was fantastic. a really unique piece of story telling and a mix of hardboiled noir and science fiction. my single excursion into the city was pretty disasterous, i had a good look around forbidden planet and waterstones but only found the new 2 volumes of alister reynolds revelation space short stories and his halycon years novel in my fave format which i immediately purchased. but london was dirty, over crowded and tense, i just wanted to get back.

i was on a quest for a certain trophy, and after some nifty running around and scouting i found something suitable. i hope it will do as now there's only going forwards. 

long flight to the olde country, lots of negativity as part of me doesnt want to go, plus in a huge miscalculation and the pre flight choas of getting organised i made an error and arrived one day earlier for the flight. i statyed in an adjacent hotel and despite the cost it seemed more efficient than returning home and returning the following day. 
i arrived in london on the hottest day on record, it was hot and not an air con in sight. i took the train to my brothers and then later went to my mothers. and in the evening went to a bbq hosted by denni and mark, which was amazing. 
then i slept. it's been very difficult as i had not packed any clothing, so i borrowed a few items and have to make do. i think i'm exhuasted and just need loads of sleep. 

i still. can't sleep at all, the world seems to fall inwards as i expand outwards picking up the vibration of space time, surfing the eros fragments from the past, exploring possibilities in the future, knowing it pulls me apart in many ways, and yet pulls me together. only the essence once inhaled will determine the outcome. i'm like an alien hound on the trail of a buried bone, somewhere in the universe. the blows to the head, the breaks and aches, the constant turbulence of life and then in cruise control i manifest a history from 20 years ago. how does that work anyway?

these girls all seemed to have left me, and then when i have moved on they seem to return bearing gifts. promises of maybe? maybe in retrospect i wasn't such a bad partner, maybe there's part of me they actually liked after all despite their actions  i can't know anything due to the side effects of my brain and it's swiss cheese memory.

what i do know is that in a meeting at work i had to take control and challenge the idiotic women i have to work with who have terrorised a client to the point of depression and anxiety, for their own dumb power issues. there were tantrums, explosive outbursts, nasty comments and preposterous behaviours but afterwards my manager said i was magnificent. 

oh, and also i received a message from the dept. immigration offering me citizenship.

take my pond guy out for a coffee at my fave coffee place,  on the coast lulu's where i have been enjoying their special blend for 12 years. we swap a few war stories and it's nice to have some company. later when i return home the rain starts, it's relentless and cold, it's not my type of thing and although i want to return to bed and sleep i have to travel into the city. at least on the train i can make headway into nick parkway's sequel 'sleeper beach,' which i'm excited about.

in the city, i have a bite at the arthouse where i gaze upon my fave painting in the world. later i head to level one where i find a dark corner and sit reading. i have two hours before the waterboys come on stage. while stretching my legs i hear a noise behind me, the lift opening and out walks some people, a voice behind me yells, 'where the fuck is the bar?'

i recognize the voice and spin around. it's her, a blast from the past i rather avoid but i do the right thing and be socially conforming, we exchange small talk and i make my getaway.

as i have exited the bar looking for anonymity, i wander into the state theatre. figure i may as well watch the support band, an ellie hooper who was actually very good. she is an australian but her music is pure nashville, and what a voice.

the waterboys are on before i know it, smashing out song after song, it's breathtaking. i'm blown away, everyone is. 

pottering around the place yesterday i pop down the beach and although do not get wet, enjoy my morning coffee courtesy of an old friend who asks me why i look so tired. mmm, there's not an easy answer. lack of sleep i guess. then in the sun i absorb a healthy dose that warms my bones, although the shade this morning is very cold. on return home, a chat with that girl from adelaide who seems to just be able to talk non stop. it's lovely but wow, it's sometimes overwhelming as i'm a guy who enjoys my quiet time and often don't speak to anyone for days. i don't mind, although she spends most of her time in past relationships, reviewing and post deconstructing them, which is really fine, she has had a colourful past but it's obviously traumatized her, where it still is part of her present. i ponder this as she talks, wondering if one day i can get her to a place where the history of her trauma is at rest. for the moment i just listen. in the evening/ night things take a turn and we start to speak about the present, although she finds some forgotten communication between us from 15 years ago that makes us laugh, i can cope with that. it's hilarious, she is mostly hilarious and i know when she's not being dragged back to abusive relationships and experiences she is kinda irrepressible.

i read some more of titanium noir and marvel at harkaway's dexterity, but i cannot sleep. an insomnia type energy has taken hold of me, a vampiric spirit awakening so i read through till dawn, watch a tv show, make a drink and eat a very early breakfast. the sun coming up slow, the cold air bites my skin, the birds rejoice and call me towards them. there's a lot to do this morning, so many things to prepare for and my energy is low, my mind is somewhat clouded and my body feels heavy and sluggish. 

strange overcast morning, sunburst at noon soaring through clouds and grey zones, burn through confusion and anxiety, burn through lies and deception, burn through hate and war, burn through tension and constriction, burn through immaterial world, burn through material girl, set ablaze the illusion, set ablaze the delusion oh fiery angel of sol, with thy sword of revelation, cast out the enemy within and behold the beauty of truth.

my task is not to seek for love but to find the barriers inside myself that i have built against it.

i have a couple of days off to catch my breath, my time is spent doing chores and paying bills but it's all bearable as in-between i chat with meredith and listen to her stories, man, she can talk and she has stories. i guess we are good as weird people with a collection of weird stories. it's nice reconnecting, catching up and reviewing the time we spent together as well as all that happened in-between.

currently reading titanium noir by nick harkaway which is brilliantly written and i'm in awe and respect for such a command of style, english, humour and imagination. 

set in a time when humans with the big bucks can chemically expand their lives and abilities with T7 a gene therapy. only the elites have access and they are known as titans. so when one is found murdered the police call in cal sounder who is known for operating between humans and titans discreetly. cal is an old skull detective, he goes from the crime scene to witness, to suspect to various titans, as he investigates the strange death. harkaway paints a place and time that although is vastly different is a very familiar landscape, and the themes of inequity, injustice and transhumanism are very relatable.

i love this book, it's a mix between william gibson and pkd.

well life is kinda strange as yet another ex contacts me and initiates a resurrection. it had been 20 years since i had seen her last, as we were interstate and a massive act of god had intervened in our relationship. she had a brain injury and i had a brain injury at exactly the same time. we were in her place in adelaide, both shell shocked, stunned trauma patients wondering what the hell had happened. i was not allowed to fly so we were just trapped in her place, just dazed and confused. i was in some form of very deep trauma, and maybe shock, my memory had been wiped and she was exactly the same. we were like peas in a pod, having had the most phenomenal relationship and now we were two vegetables who had no idea what we were in. eventually after getting clearance i was able to fly out and into deep therapy with neurologists and councillors,' unable to work or do anything we both ended the relationship and attempted to get our lives on track, but at that crucial point ayahuscia arrived at my door and i attended my first ceremony, and was healed. my trajectory had changed radically and i was in a new life. it's 20 years ago. and this week out of the blue she wrote to me. it's blown my mind.  

as i set off to drive to the surf in glorious golden dawn light the clouds just appear in front of me and the sky goes dark and suddenly it's bucketing down, staring p the ocean and making it impossible for me to have my morning swim. i  spend a long time finding a park, the place is packed, when i do it's considerably remote meaning a walk through the rain, it's not my fave thing. the cafes are packed, my local is all seating outside so it's hopeless, eventually i grab a coffee on the run and disappear back home. as i get indoors the sun comes out. 

bowie live, great setlist and preformance 

dawn surf, water warm, waves perfecto, as they roll in from the beating heart of neptune old captain mission walks out into the solar pathway, there's a strange little pull as the current slips to the side but it's gentle enough for me to deal with, i submerge out there water washing over my head as i dive down. it's so clean you can see thousands of fish and thrusting forwards into the wave my body kicks into autopilot, the fin knows what to do. monique dives down and moves past me, she says some one saw a white pointer out by the boy and she goes to check it out, i find my spot, turn and wait.

after 40 mins there were three waves that were perfect for me to ride, the more force i used to push down the higher i lifted myself, it was pretty wild. they were fast and if i manoeuvred myself to their right i would catch them right until they ht the beach, like an overdrive. amazing.

last night I watched the moon over the water, high tide, this morning it's perfect conditions. and i move forwards  filled with gratitude and praise to jah, who has created all this beauty.

well from one health scare to another, from one dramatic tension to another, from one crisis to another and then salvation. it's all the same thing, the one electron theory. the get out of jail free card if you apply it, a little quantum physics goes a long way if you don't observe it or at least try to. as a student of all things strange and mystical and occult i was mentored by one individual who revolutionised the way i think. he died recently. a quantum physicist who was also a wizard. 

so there's that.

then there's this, a long chat with my uncle and aunt yesterday was productive and interesting, it was great to hear them and laugh. i put a few things in perspective. there's so much going on and then there's nothing but the void in which we exist, thinking it's all going on. it's just history, it's just existence getting to know itself, it's just random, it's chaos looking for order, it's the yin yang, it's the terrifying beauty of truth, it's the beautiful truth of terror. we are all dying while we live, we are all energy interacting with energy, we cannot end only change. that's the only truth that is consistent.

new phase on the horizon, i await this moment, it's slower, more joyous and fruitful. relationships must shift into this new area of thinking, i'm done with movements that don't move, conversations built upon fear and lies, people awakened who are asleep, it's all there in plain sight, the zombie apocalypse. plug into your news feed, absorb your truth, fill your heart with hate today, fill your mind with lies and agendas, and then create it. it's the same old story what came first? the idea or the act. can you really create something out of nothing. is nothing something?

ha! zen koans rule. awake sleeper. whack!

the surf this morning was spectacular, there were very few waves but the water was warm, so clear i could see the fish swimming, big fish and a lot of them.  i spent about forty minutes splashing about,  and further out sharks were sighted. it really was a fantastic morning, the sun dried me in about 10 mins and it was really hot for autumn. actually better than most summer days, i just hope it stays this warm. nights are different, much colder once the sun sets and a good reason for early nights.

my head injury seems to be much better today, yesterday was quite painful again and i had to take two painkillers which is very rare for me. i have to say they made a huge difference and after 20 mins of taking them the migraine- like throb that lingered all day disappeared. on top of that my heart today was beating strong and in time, for the first time in months i felt as if i were 100%.

 'it's to late, to be late again.' bowie, said. 

i recall seeing him at earls court in 78, a little kid in total awe, overwhelmed by the amount of people and the size of the place. my dad had got me the ticket through his friend, they had gone to a lot of trouble as the show was already sold out but dad knew what it meant to me, he pulled out all stops. i vaguely remember when he told me, i was jumping around the house smiling like an idiot.  at the show i was seated in a great spot but the audience was so large it was like being at a wembley final football match but all the pitch was covered in seated people facing a huge stage. 

the band came on and opened with warzawa which was mysterious and dramatic and then launched into heroes, david in that ridiculous sailors outfit, those big white stripped vertical lights came on and that was it. the next hours passed by so fast, it was hard to process as the atmosphere blended into the music and some sort of weird synthanesea overtook my brain input. the next thing i knew it was encores and like everyone there i made a lot of noise. the highlight was 'station to station' which is captured really well on 'welcome to the blackout' as was 'beauty and the beast.' in fact that is a great bootleg although now officially available, it was recorded over the few nights bowie played there and put together by tony visconti. 

anyways, thanks dad. i know you would have tried really hard to get me that ticket. i was 15 years old.

i think about that line, 'it's to late to be late again,' a lot. especially after dads death, because the implications are so much is left unsaid. and that's the saddest part of it all. the bit that lingers on and haunts you is all the words missed. anyways, i guess it comes down to our individual responsibility, my disappointment belongs to me, and it's to late.

i am good,  i seem to be a surviver of all things be it global or local, and my outlook is positive personally. a few weeks ago maybe a month i attempted to call my brother who lives in london, he is going through a change in career and life, and i had some critical health issues and needed to let someone know in case i never made it. as usual my brother never answered or returned the call until it was to late but it was good to chat with him last night. rather than go into details about my predicaments i kept it about him and what he plans to do in the close future. he wants to get out of the uk. he seems to think it's really fucked and he would not be wrong, something i have seen over several years and knew decades ago. there is very little doubt now unless something radically changes there will be civil war or global war, uk has now placed itself on an official war footing.  

i've had some time of from work and although these weeks have been quiet i have found myself thinking about my dad more than ever. and actually identified a few regrets. these do not weigh me down but fill me with a sort of sadness and subtle weight within, an introspective type of emotion where i feel i had so much unsaid. i guess i said it all the funeral but deep down he really needed to hear it in conversation, and that's one of the things i miss most about him, our chats. anyways, time's arrow travels in one direction and as a passenger the universe flows passed me, as today i feel still.

outside sun breaks through the front jungle, the pond rages and the birds sing. i hear the ocean calling me. neptune sings out, his siren daughters call. it's fresh clean and warmish, the waves break in perfect form, i cannot go far out or really be unwatched but i throw myself in and splash around, like a baptism ceremony, back in the ocean, my head bleeds out poisonous thoughts and fills with awe. all this stuff may be part of a situation and it may not be real at all but some parts are beautiful and some bits feel realer than others. 

unfortunately i cannot stay long, certain responsibilities pull me back into the illusionary world, and i have to embrace them with an open heart and mind.

still pondering the direction of my sequel, it's sort of complete but the ending is not quite powerful enough. it drifts into more my normal style of writing and narrative and gets quite metaphysical in conclusion but i am writing about child trafficking and pedophilia in contemporary times some 30 years after the antidote. so do i enter into a lovecraftian ending or keep it real. and then what's real anymore? 

this morning i woke up and pondered the question, at what point did it all break. there are a number of answers. the strangest is when bowie died. it does feel like he was holding the fabric of reality together, i don't quite know how that works or what it means, it cannot really be true although it feels true. then there's the hadron collider, which when i fist heard i found hard to accept but now see it as a real possibility. did it fabricate a new reality, a somewhat more absurd and chaotic one. i don't know but if you mess with the dna of the being somethings going to mutate. atoms spin by the hand of god, they collide by design not by science. unless of course it is all a simulation and the program is self destructing. will we build a new one, will we just download ourselves into it or just zero out like the tv set when it's switched off. i always said, trump heralded the post truth world, where nothing can be trusted, media, people, institutions. 

then finally i decide it's cosmic warfare. as i navigate the zombie apocalypse, the truth becomes clearer for me. i'm alive, only just but I have an advantage, i know the date of my death. ayahuscia showed me the way, sometimes i just have to remember.

someone i love said to me, 'i don't believe in accumulating material things anymore.'

but that's just a half truth, it's not the material things that count as meaningful or meaningless, it's the attachment to them. there is only one way out of here. let it go.

a few tests this morning with the technicians, they wire me up and take readings, 'bippitty boppity bip' a few injections, strangely i am immune to these, maybe as i have desensitised to them over the years. the lady jabbing me is from the uk and we chat about the old country, music in the 80's and the cost of living in australia. she tells me the mistake the chemist made was very serious and could have killed me. she says i should take it as high as possible but i'm not wired that way. 

yesterday after the tests i checked into the hospital for the procedure, it was hell but the nurses and anasthetist all recognise me from a previous visit, and as lay upon the hospital bed we chat about the history of anaesthetists and various progress through the ages but i'm mostly interested in ether which was used after chloroform, around the victorian era. it's effects are similar to alcohol and just as dangerous. it's an interesting science, after all no one really understands it because it's not really sleep more like a coma state. anyways I'm in the operating theatre and they deliver the anaesthetics through the blood and indicate it will either taste like rotting garbage of 1 in a million, bananas. i get the rotting garbage for a moment and then it changes to bananas.  it's quite extraordinary and when it hits it hits, i'm out. the first part of the procedure is to send a camera into my heart and check for clots, if they find one they will not be able to do the second part. fortunately there are no clots (despite the chemists mistakes) and they go on to deliver the shock.

when i come to i am back in the ward. it was a success. they want me to stay as there is no one at home to monitor my recovery so i end up overnight. in the morning i'm discharged and head homewards.

few days to chill out now, find my bearings as i seem a bit adrift after this one.

well the big news is in, from the front line, where i have a friend who is a PR expert and showed a great interest in my novel. she suggested i seriously think about a mini series and go through the steps of marketing it and pitching it which i considered. there is no doubt it would make an excellent series on netflix and due to it's topical nature may draw some attention. however my energy was pretty low, and there's an element of danger around it so i waited for a while hoping to discus this with people close to me, but they had all disappeared so i just sat with it. eventually my friend sent me a proposal, it was really good and in the spirit of factory records i just said, you can have 10% of whatever i get, all you have to do is get it on their desks and spark interest. now she is a glamorous blonde and very smart, plus she's very well connected so when reading her proposal it was obvious she had put effort into the issue and mapped out a pretty good plan of attack. i looked at her website for her business and it is excellent, her own writing is impressive as is her eccentric humour. so i wrote back, 'read the book again, if you believe in it and we can take it from there.'

a few weeks later she contacts me. she's spoken to some production companies and one specifically that deals in gritty crime dramas. they basically told her it's impossible to make anything like this in australia, it's a death sentence and i should do it overseas set in another country. you gotta laugh really.

anyways, the sequel is coming along nicely but i have come to a fork in the road. this conclusion to my duo-logy could stay very believable or go completely into a very conspiracy theory - like zone. i need a second opinion and some advice but there's no one around for me to ask who knows enough about the subject.