Illblog33 All Manner of Interesting things

Migration stations, Space awaits

2012-01-28T03:25:00.000-08:00

I often wonder why more is not made of the move to the realm of space. Logical progression, all the 'sci-fi' movies and programmes for years have merely been a preview for the future, what will mankind become? Surely if mass deaths are caused by some human phenomenon there will be some who have an opportunity to survive, whether it be beneath the ground or in orbit.

If it is beneath ground then they can occupy themselves with surviving and building potential sustainable space travel vehicles. If it is in orbit, then why just orbit? The generations who follow us will be as the ones who came many years before us, into the unknown they will go, though of course, charting and navigation methods having changed considerably since then so they will have a good idea of what they approach over distances, though of course, will never be quite sure what they are doing for a long time.

We remain unsure of ourselves now, which leads to the situation we have now where powerful people feebly clutch onto that which they have, as they see images of death and destruction across the planet, there hearts hardened by fear. Feebly, cling on to, their fear.

Outwardly pretending they are powerful with items purchased to boost their status, so that others might 'envy' them. I despise envy and I have managed to avoid it as an emotion that I experience over the years, which was of course no easy process, as it still dogs me on occasion. I would urge you to try to do so, as I feel it gives me a happier and more ambitious outlook when I do no engage in it. I will not envy someone who has something, because I always believe that I am capable of reaching some mental plain where it will only matter to be alive and safe. I am sounding like a goddamn hippy again now, peace and love, hahaha.

Back to space and away from megolomania. The human world is weak, consumed with death, we strive to function in it, constantly questioning what we are doing and then for times slotted right in and doing it, because of some goal we think we will achieve. Goals being of course essential in progression, and the goal of space and the further development of humanity and our understanding of our own capacity is the greatest goal of all.

This will come as we engage ourselves completely with the greater universe, travel through it, and learn its magic on a larger scale. Entire civilisations of humans could populate the solar sysem and then the galaxies and so on. If you were negative you would immendiately think, oh no! heaven forbid!

There is no need to give up on humanity yet though, it is possible that reason can be gained. For we never have had it as a planetery group. Reason that is, as unreason has frequently been the fare over millions of years.

What Sir Isaac Newton would have given for access to the information systems and equipment available now. Those at the pinnacle of scientific endeavor of course more appropriately deserve the reverance of the populace, instead of the current worship of artists, be they musicians, be they sportspeople. Though of course, science is essentially an artform, though a far more exacting process is engaged in in many ways.

Still, inspiration is vital for these pursuits, and of course, the artists who currently get the plaudits do of course give something to the population, even if it is a little silly at times, musicians, being particularly guilty of this on occasion.

Rocket ships. My daughter, the other evening at a friends house, walked out with a book in her hands saying it was the special book about space and that told me it was a book about rocket ships and going to the moon, it was an amusing moment. I do tend to prattle on at times. She hears it more than most. Still, I am glad she has a head for it, I think it is the future, and as I said in the opening paragraph, cannot understand why it is not more of an agenda being pursued, if only for the reason that it could well be something that could unite the people of earth into larger groups. Even perhaps a continental triumvirate? This would certainly end the so called 'resourse crisis'.

The media are the fool who bow down to money in the biggest way, feeding us the 'idea' of what life could/should be about. Then again they do gratify us by stirring us to happiness and moments of learning. It is always a two edged sword isn't it. Though of course greater accountability in the media for the education of mankind as a group is a priroity that should take precedence. Rather than the current fashion for 'hits' and 'sales'. Fuck that, idiots. We are spiralling into a mess, but then again, we are not. There is control still for the people over the machine, and we have a chance as to maintain our diginity in the face of a system that threatens to overtake us completely.

Let us take back control and explore the galaxies, as sentient beings, rather than the sorry, sad, tortured beings we sometimes are now, caught up in the dance toward a death that so many fear, suckered into consumerism and media constructs, rather than upgrading your mental plain, and believing in the future of humankind.

Sentient beings we can be, for there are those that have gone before us, there is a certain resonance about the universe, a reverberation, it will coninue with or without 'earth', so it would be good for those who follow us if we make preparation for their progress into a galactic conscioussness.

Self indulgent ego stroking?

2011-12-29T04:31:00.000-08:00

Straight reckoning it, true thinking, rue thinking, you thinking? I am, not. Arrange your prejudices in a line, before they consume you with guilt, let them lead you to a new thought, if you can bend your mind in such a manner. Or perhaps align your knowledge in order to make a new bridge to an old reason.

I like to think I think things that are new, though I am sure every thought I have has been through another mind on some occasion. Whether it be the lowliest slave in the court of some debauched historical king, to the very mind of the greatest being to ever grace the universe, whatever that mind could be. Let me babble, because I will.

Do you ever think you could be something else? Something special? Or do you condemn such a thought as vanity? Self indulgent ego stroking? It is, it is. Mind you, the ego must be stroked, as it is ego which keeps us going, humility is a beautiful thing, though it is horribly overrated.

I believe I am something quite magical, and I hope you who read this do to, because this universe, and its beautiful mystery is something that is unexplained, and there is a magic in that, and we are very much a part of that magic.

Energy courses through the universe, unexplained energy, masses of it, causation, deprivation, voids, supernovae, black holes.

Never forget the amazing magic of the thing that gives us life, the very god, the very reason for our creation, beyond religion, beyond humankind. Always remember love, that thing which accumulates and spills through us, to people who sometimes feel they are beyond it, love saves them.

I remember many years ago, running through Wellington, bombed out of my gourd on all manner of drugs, feeling the weight of technology on my soul, the torturous pressure of modernity, and then seeing a person who smiled at me, and relief running through my veins, feeling it, coursing through my body. Beautiful moments. So many of them.

Some kid asked me for two bucks today, 'For a feed' he said. I was glad to give it, even if he was just accumulating for a hit. Just so he knew that people have not given up on him, and because I had enough, and I could spare it.

I spent an evening hanging out with friends, from the rafters, like bats, though there are no rafters in this house. We actually just sat around and had a few drinks and a barbeque. It was nice, and easy, the conversation was good, and the time was well spent.

I thought I would write something for the mere sake of hitting the keys, and I think though I have said precisely nothing in the course of this missive, I feel better for saying nothing. The universe is my god, and I believe in love.

I also believe in hatred and evil, things that I have felt, violence that has gripped my being on occasion. Why should they be viewed as bad things though? If we are merely animals? Predatory prehistoric traits handed on by a genetic code. There can be no guilt or misery if evil and hatred are merely the imbedded genetic code that we carry on from our ancestors. Therefore we can kill with impunity and feel no empathy for those who suffer. We can laugh at those who suffer, make jokes about their pain, for we are innocent of their pain, and there is no transgression in their suffering on our part.

So switch the channel to sport, pop the popcorn in the microwave, crack open a beer and sink into the couch, in debauched comfort. We have risen to where we are through sheer evolutionary prowess. Survival of the fittest, laugh at the weak, for they are weak. Lurch on into the new year, with new understanding of your own evolutionary greatness. Ride on into the sunset, mind clear of emotion.

I think I prefer to care. Just because I can. Love can save us.

Break your mental chains

2011-11-13T17:11:00.000-08:00

What is it that I think I know that no one else does? I am not sure. Billions of people on what is termed a planet, a planet in a solar system in a galaxy in a universe that apparently is stretching, growing or something along those lines. The possibilities seem infinite at this stage.

Alas, due to some reason we have reduced ourselves to finite possibility. We most of the time are told to ‘live in the real world’, which is of course the world of finite possibility. The world where you attend school for a time get a job, accumulate possessions friends and family before dying, hopefully comfortably and with a nice funeral.
In a universe where the possibilities seem infinite, I believe many of us have chosen to believe that which is told to us, that is, many of us have chosen to think of things in quantifiable finites, rather than in the realm of possibility. A rather excellent cliché is ‘The possibilities are endless’, and it is inarguable most of the time. Even within the realm of quantifiable finites.

It seems that if you were to become too concerned with quantifiable finites, you would begin to consider your fellow humans to be quantifiably finite as well. This is a rather disturbing development. Because of course now you can think of people as similar to possessions or quantifiable goods. It is a small leap sideways in the mind, consider the ease with which you are able to do it, thanks to years of indoctrination.
You would, caught up in quantifiable finites, then begin to care less for others and in fact be apathetic in the face of their distress or misfortune. That thing which apparently represents our opinions, the media, of course backs this up. Its programming consisting apparently of what is ‘hip’ or ‘current’, when in fact it is the regurgitation of a governmental control system that has been in place for thousands of years. This much is while not obvious, easily discernable to the eye that wishes to see.

The sideshows of humanity, sport, movies, war.
The things that consume us; all of them representations of superiority and frequently repeatedly glorifying violence and death, the food of the media, that which makes it tick.
In the age of enlightenment, many billions still suffer, without that which would make them able to turn their mind toward the collective human effort to understand the reality of our existence. Many and most are as equal a being as anyone else on the planet is, but this is conveniently forgotten by many now, why should I feel guilt for the plight of those who do not help themselves.

Humanity survives on humanity, without others, you would be nothing, and as nothing, you would disappear. Finite possibility, finite possibility is too be dispensed with at all costs. It is necessary for the good of humanity and the future of it that infinite possibility is returned to its place as one of humanity’s formative notions. Limiting and trying to quantify is unhealthy and unwise and leads inevitably to hardship and death for someone somewhere, however indirect it could be, it still happens because you buy a particular product that someone somewhere goes without and quite possibly suffers, these are the possibilities of quantifiable finite notion.

With a notion that embraces the unlimited possibility of the universe, you could therefore never arrive on a quantifiable finite as a future, other than a guess at when your mortality would cause you to succumb to time and its soft whisper. On the other hand, perhaps fate would have other plans for you, a skiing accident or kicked to death begging in an alley. Either way, you would be unwise to have ceased believing in the possibilities of the future of humankind. The unfathomable possibilities that an ever-expanding universe actually represents to humankind, that which should make us superhuman, though in actuality we have become distracted from it by vanity and self loathing, a wicked combination of the two that makes us ultra competitive, paranoid and destructive, to self and others.

It is not of course all doom and gloom of course, there is certainly much fun and hilarity to be had playing the games of a warped mind, and to be quite truthful they still pique my interest on occasion, which is a good thing. For it is often in these induced states that we discover more about ourselves than we ever do trapped in the mentality of the physical indoctrinated world.
Beyond the realm of finite possibility, when the suffocating gauze of the physical world is rendered less overwhelming and the world sometimes referred to as the ‘spiritual world’ is revealed to us. The world that is ulterior to that which is termed ‘physical’, the world where the mind has its edges dulled and sharpened at strange points, points where possibilities can become endless, and where the future of humanity is often forged.

For where would we be without the dreamers, those who truly believe in endless possibility? In some sort of watered down stoic fascist existence believing the tripe spouted to you by the media and the notions of the ruling elite. Sounds familiar, though of course, we are not that far gone yet, while we still believe in love and the essential good of humanity, we are not lost. While we still harbor ideas of exploring the universe further, we are not lost. While we still feel any moment of sadness for the plight of another, we are not lost. While we still believe in the realm of endless possibility, we could never be lost. The possibility of you is endless, it is we who set quantifiable finites in place for what we can achieve, and it is our duty to the future of humanity to no longer do so.

Love flows, through us, away from us, toward us, and always it is with us

2011-09-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

Flow over the keys toward yourself, if you can, you should be able to, if you are able to tap keys to make a sentence, then you can write, anyone can write, we all should, we should all, write, and bring others into the light of your mind in a particular moment, it is a duty that we have.

Do you not question yourself? Do you not ask yourself what it is you love? Do you not inquire of yourself at certain times, certain moments of quiet in which you are able to glance into the interior, those sweet moments, those peaceful moments, what is it exactly that I love?

What is it?

What is this life? What is this miracle of movement that reveals itself to me in every waking moment I behold?
Although not every moment is beautiful, there are those moments that make others more beautiful. Without these moments, we would be lost, for the times in which we are at a low are brought to bear by highs which are often indescribable. Delights and ecstasies that are able to be remembered and described to a point which conveys something of that which was experienced, but never quite gives the definition of the feeling.

We are alive. We live. We breathe, move, speak, and dance. We must flow in the manner that our atoms enable us to. For it is atomic, we are atomic, our god is an atomic god, whatever that god may be to you. There is no disputing that something is responsible for our response.

That much seems obvious.

Let me speak to you; let me say this, let me be the one to say that I love you. I believe in your innate beauty. I said to a friend when we were teens that I thought every woman on earth had an inherent beauty within her, he looked at me as though I was batty, and perhaps I am, but I believe it still. I believe every person on the planet has an innate beauty, from the most murderous fiendishly despicable to the holiest of holy.

It is the nature that prompts thought, the nurture that propels it, the propagation of genetic heritage and familial traits that underlines the current which it flows along.

Love flows, through us, away from us, toward us, and always it is with us. It is the enduring peace and truth of humanity. The thing that enables us to be at peace with ourselves, in the fleeting peace that we are able to experience in this modern age of mechanics..

It is an amazing life that we have been lucky enough to experience together, as you read this you experience the life that passes in every one of us. We must be more appreciative of the beauty and wonder of it, the marvelous magical nature of it. The splendid isolation, the enchanting company, the magnificent solitude, and the ecstatic gathering. Let us remember each other as we have been at our best and at our worst, and why it is that the worst will never supplant the best, why it is, why is it?

Magic. It is a kind of magic, wise words from a magical man that went before us.

Let it be as it was, let us try to rediscover that magic that we yearn for in that past that seems so unfathomable, that past that we feel we will never see again. It is folly to dispense with the things that make us human, and yet we do so at every turn. The dirt embracing greed that clouds our minds, the fiendish grasp for the ‘things’ we ‘need’, the things we need….

What are they really? Yes, they are those ‘hippy’ things, love, peace, and happiness. In the end, nothing else will suffice. We must give the peace we are able to find at times to every living thing, in a universal moment of understanding, if you can have one, one moment, then that could be enough, in that moment.

We are alone, we are ourselves, therefore, in that solitude, we must find solace. There can be no peace if you are not at peace with yourself, by yourself. It is the purest folly to think anything else.

A little something I wrote for something recently.

2011-08-06T22:27:00.000-07:00

Music and movement, and the human physicality that engages such things, is it mere genetic coincidence? A convergence of something, something unreal, something surreal, a sweet sound, a tantalizing wisp of tune, far off in the cacophony of the Wellington evening, is that a Nudge? A little tap on the shoulder from something special, it is something to wonder about, a small coincidence, like a bird that dives across the sun shading your eyes for a moment so you see the darting flash of a fish in the water before you. Like something that pops into your minds eye out of the billowing breeze. Perhaps sound, an image, or a spiritual energy.

There is no common occurrence, we are all quite disturbingly different, difference being what generates interest, and of course as a flow on, vitality. The similarities between people are quite striking, and then the difference arises. Beautiful difference, that boon of uniqueness, that windfall of wonderful inspiration, that deviation from type that makes you think twice, and act thrice.
The very album you hold in your hand in fact, is something different, and perhaps something that could whirl your consciousness for a moment, perplex the pitter-patter of your palpitating heart, as time flies past you, rushing about your ears. The Nudge is music that is easily difficult to fathom, and frequently impossible to describe, but if you wish you might just move to the beat, and let your soul control your feet.

The respective members of The Nudge have decided their volition is music, and it is obvious when you see them, music rolls off their being, inspirational and beguiling they seem to be.
Music has been magical throughout the ages. The magic exists within music and in people, a snatch of a song, the breath of a lyric, that can disturb, terrify or enrich, such are the beautiful myriad happenings that occur in the throes of a musical moment.
Let us listen to the shaman, and see what they have to play us, what words do they sing, what notes do the play, what sweet sentiment could be voiced on the air today?
Is it beautiful? Adversely, is it disturbed? In aplenty, is it visually quite absurd? Your idea is your own, the beauty of humanity is individuality, that golden happening, the moment that it is plain how different you are to your best friend, a universal human moment. Let us tune ourselves to the magical arrangements offered up on this album, and appreciate them for the sheer impossibility, that these fellows should end up making music together, because they so easily could have been everywhere else, though now, luckily for you, you hold in your hand a passage to a place not seen often.
So tread carefully with this music in your hand, for it is a precious and beautiful thing and a ticket to somewhere you may not be all the time. It is a different part of your being, your brain in particular. According to science, we use less than half of our brain actively, and how can this be?
Why have we not learned how to solve this problem logically and industriously? The simple answer is that the rest of the brain is something quite magical, and science may get a handle on it as a concept eventually, but in the meantime, the magical and the unexplained is of course, scientifically unaccountable.

Move, dance, sing, career, spin, jig, jump, hop, cartwheel, we must move and dance, we must listen to music, it is a key concept in human life, through the ages, the shaman have fronted their notion, and the people listen. It is something beyond life and death, when you hear music that moves you, stuff that makes your soul shake in your spirit. We are merely flying through space on a giant lump of rock, as minute beings according to the scale of the objects that surround us. We should appreciate the coincidence of our existence more, think on such things, as you lay this album down to play, let your mind loose, let it stray, and your mind could drift away.

In the crazy eye

2011-04-09T01:59:00.000-07:00

I saw the world for awhile yesterday in a crazy eye, though it was not for long enough, and I found as I medicated myself further, I began to lose touch with myself and my surroundings. Ranting raving and lurching about like a grossly offensive caricature of myself.
Seeing many people who I hold in high regard was excellent and certainly increased the level of enjoyment I experienced, though for certain strange times, I was all alone in a room full of people. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, just something that happens. We are where we are at times, and then as well we are not.

Who was I? Is something I think later, in the aftermath, when the brain has cleared, and the images have been downloaded to the storage area in the marvelous organ that we live by, as it dangles upwards off our torso, at times balanced and poised, at times lolling and twisting with respective possessive moments of madness and enlightenment.

Why do certain people look as if they are worried or hold you in some place of pity in their mind? It is entirely odd, I always see it in such a manner anyway. How can anyone else ever decide that they know better than the individual? The individual is right unto themselves and in some instances owes the world of humanity nothing.
Earth however is a different story.
We owe earth our all, and one day the planet will again take us into itself as we become the future on our demise. We are rewoven by the machine that is the universe, into it. The threads of our being again part of the millennial mosaic.

So it was odd and entertaining to stride about in heroic fashion, bawling obscenity, offending some and amusing others. A specific incident I could relate from memory was a strange silly man yelling obscene language at me for merely talking to his acquaintance, who was an old acquaintance of mine. I of course totally overreacted in excellently garrulous fashion. I declared that I would get a stool and place it through him, which was absolutely preposterous bollocks, though he of course did not know that I was talking merry malarkey . His face fell visibly and he retreated slightly, his roaring and obscene shouts ceased, he was like seagull, screeching wildly but fearful when faced with a little conviction.

I thought about it today and realized I was extremely lucky, though it was highly amusing, and gave me an excellent laugh. Still I do regret it in one way, because I was being completely over the top and should have walked away once he bawled obscenity at me. It is not wise to regret though, because it has passed and your soul can become trapped on a memory if you let it, and it drags you back sometimes to a place you need not go.
It was an hilarious evening, though probably would have been far better if a murder of gigantic crows had been harassing us as we walked from bar to bar. Hopefully it happens in the near future. I cross my fingers in hope every time my head touches the pillow. Regards and best wishes.

Strange Tidings from the Kapiti Coast-part two

2011-02-06T22:03:00.000-08:00

I spoke to her because I was next of kin, and those in charge of the investigation though it was appropriate I heard testimony from an eyewitness.

She seemed a nice lady, harmless really, but strong like a beautiful tree, and you knew deep down that her branches could snap back at you if they were bent too far.
She told me she had been enjoying an evening wine on the deck of her house, she pointed outside in the direction of where it would have been had we not been at the table of a cafe at Coastlands.

She then recounted how she had noticed a man running along the path across the valley, in a disheveled state, obviously running from some thing, she made clear, he continually looked behind him as he hurriedly picked his way along the narrow path.

Her voice slowed and quietened as she told me what she had seen behind him. A huge dog, she said, with eyes like an angry man, but with beastly inhuman gait like an animal enraged, she had seen it look at her, but she told me that she had not felt anything as it caught her eyes, the look the beast gave her was one of casual indifference as though it cared not for what she thought or anything about her.

She said the speed and the ferocity of the attack were too mind-twistingly disturbing for her to recount, it was terrifying to think that beings capable of such devastating and deranged efficiency walked among us, she whispered, fear in her eyes for a moment. She told me she would need a drink before she could help with any other questions, so I thanked her for her help and we parted company.

I knew I must try to find the man but also that I must proceed with haste to Erasmus's farm, so that I could try to find out why he had left his sanctuary and just where in the blasted infernal dawn he had thought he was going. 'What madness had gripped him', I wondered aloud, detachedly staring at the fence posts as they flew by. I drove the old mill road up the valley to the gate, all was familiar, and the millions of rain drops, like miniature fairies floating on the breeze, gave the valley a lovely watery tinge, over the yellow of the parched grass of summer.

The house was lit up as I drove up to the gate, it was almost dusk and some light had gone, the cloud cover exacerbating its absence.
Ulysses the cat was there, an old friend at last I thought triumphantly, I had found the wee rascal in the paddock four years ago, obviously left on the roadside by some one who could not kill a cat, but could leave it to die.

He ran toward me, and waited for me to pat him, as a cat does, I chuckled, their haughty natures had always amused me.
The door was open and the kitchen seemed undisturbed for a moment, as if Erasmus had left and no-one had been through the door since. There was however, a strange feel to the air, a vague shift in the familiarity of it, something wicked had been through this house, it was easy in the end to feel it.

I got to the door before the stairs that led to the subterranean chambers and felt for my key, on the chain around my neck. Ulysses purred rubbing against my leg, he knew there was food for him down below. Unlocking the door, I was surprised by a gust of cold air, it was open somewhere down there, this was going to be interesting. I started down the stairs, reaching back to close the door, Ulysses just stood gazing down the stairs, with reproachful eyes, I knew he wasn't coming so I closed the door and continued my descent.

I worked out quite quickly what door it was and strode through the mess that the visitor had left to close it. Something scuttled off from the door, probably a possum I thought as I closed it, shutting out the light breeze and the fairy droplets that danced in on it.

The lab was a debacle, a scene of haste and anger, machines and documents littered the floor, it reminded me of the earthquake Erasmus and I had cleaned up after, though there was a more knowing destructive taint to this. Remarkably the forcefield generator seemed to have survived intact, something that caused me great relief, as I knew that whatever foul soul had killed Erasmus would no doubt come back once it knew that someone was in his old house.

It was only then that I remembered the capsule Erasmus had told me about, and only because I had seen the painting that he had asked me to do on the wall over it, I had created an old farm scene and disguised the capsules presence by painting a rickety old barn with a gaping black hole of a door, like a mouth of horror in a quiet looking country scene.

I struggled to remember the combination, Erasmus had made it the date at which he had taken over as my custodian, and I had to think for a moment as it was now so long ago. Inside was a laptop, typical Erasmus, never afraid to embrace new technology, he had left old mediums behind, as soon as he was able to, his fascination with gadgets had always driven him onward in the pursuit of his quest for enlightenment.

I fired it up and the only thing on the desktop was a video addressed to me. I clicked play.
Ten minutes later I was appalled, I had never seen him like that, he had relaxed more as the clip progressed, even managing a few jokes near the end, but his countenance had been decidedly different delineating his horrid unease.
He had spoken of his old adversary, who I knew to be his former best friend, but nothing else. Erasmus had said in the video that he had to get to him before the shape-shifters did, they planned to wipe out any who had knowledge of their existence in the country so that they could begin to wage war on a society they thought had gone to far in its subjugation of the flora and fauna of the world.

Admirable stuff really I thought for a moment, but the murder of humanity was never going to be the answer, it just seemed too filled with self loathing and therefore egotistical, after all the actions of the many do not always represent the beliefs of the all. He had finally told me where to find his friend who he said was well equipped to protect himself from the shape-shifters for a time, but would tire substantially after dealing with the devilish beasts for too long.

He had instructed me to take the force field generator and the old Audi from the barn and waste no time in getting to his friends house. He said I would be welcomed simply because I drove the car, apparently Erasmus had purchased it from his friends father.

I gathered up the contraption and raced up the stairs, within minutes I was in the car and driving, and Ulysses in the passenger seat having a wee kip.

It was dark now, but I swore I saw a form speedily shadowing the car in the fields next to the road, though the trees soon made it too dark for me to see anymore.

I drove with careful speed, knowing that time was against me and that the forces of a malignant evil were working to stop me on my journey, I gunned the engine and sped onto the motorway to Paekakariki.
Tune in next week for the next thrilling chapter.

Strange Tidings from the Kapiti coast- A serial comedic supernatural thriller

2011-01-26T00:26:00.000-08:00

It was yesterday it happened. I received strange tidings from the Kapiti coast. A man had been killed and someone had taken a dog into custody for the murder. A woman who lived across the valley from the path the slaying occurred on, had said she had seen the dog stalking the man for about two kilometers, before it sprinted savagely toward him, she said she could hear the hellish barking far off as an echo, and then the malicious and ferocious rage of the attack, she said she had looked away.

That man was my mentor, Erasmus.

I remember opening the email, it said simply, "bad news", in the subject area. That electronic communication, was probably the most saddening document I had ever opened via the mobile web. I was heartbroken for a time and in deep shock, but he had always said to me that he would die, and to prepare for it as an inevitability, that if you fear it, it controls you. So after a good cup of tea and a cry I was back to reality.

There was something odd about this reality relayed by others though, and I had a strange feeling about this, after all, there were strange goings on on the Kapiti Coast. I had lived there, and Erasmus was an alchemist as well, this fact threw some people off, which I always thought rather strange, after all, it is an old and revered profession, engaged in by some of the greatest minds that grace our collective histories.

Erasmus was an alchemist in the sense that he was on a scientific journey to find the ultimate, the source of all life, and definitely not in it for the monetary gain.
The thing was, I had learned in the five years I lived there that he had had certain incidents occur in and around his vicinity, that were apparently, according to Erasmus, put straight into the police special-branch folder.
Strange animals appearing, giant vicious sounding beasts, marauding wildly through the night.
I asked him, 'What are those wonderous creatures?', he told me they were his former friends, as he had been a shape-changer also.
Of course this came as a shock and I had to sit down.

I recall seeing several of them and they were certainly supernaturally proportioned beings.

There was one that looked very similar to a giant husky, walking around on its hind legs, smashing corrugated iron fences aside. All this chaos as it tried to break through the bulb of magic Erasmus generated around us, thanks to a portable psychically driven machine, that was placed on the head and then caused the wearer to have the ability to throw out a ball of energy that could not be penetrated.

Erasmus had said at the time he used it, that he was not satisfied with the reliability of it, as it was as unpredictable as a temperamental laptop and drained power directly from the wearer, the wearer needing to drink a liter of water and eat two sandwiches for each hour it was worn.
My best and most clear memory of an attack was certainly the one when I saw the giant husky close up. We had heard its preternatural growls before we saw it, as we were in the glass dome that Erasmus kept on the top of his subterranean house.

It was seven feet tall, and resembled the stature of a silver-back gorilla, all rippling muscle and cautiously intelligent menace when it loped into view, the moment it spied Erasmus it transformed. Rage streaked forth from its eyes as it came bounding over the hills to the west of Erasmus's farmhouse, suddenly it was smashing aside the corrugated iron fence that surrounded the chicken coop, and my, the poor chickens, devoured in seconds, they stood no chance.

The ball of energy had been malfunctioning slightly if I remember rightly, because before the giant dog had reduced the chicken coop to ruins, the chickens had been quite safe, and quiet actually, which I admired them for, they had known that clucking was not something they wanted to do with that gigantic terror roaring toward the farm. After 2 liters of water and four sandwiches, the beast tired substantially, and after it had eaten the remains of the chickens and part of the door frame, it took off across the hill in a blur of speed that chilled me for a few seconds, such was the insane velocity of it. We were saved, there were numerous high fives and whoops as we rejoiced wholeheartedly that we had fought the damned creature off. Afterward Erasmus did say that perhaps he was the thing malfunctioning and not the machine, as he did not actually like peanut butter, cheese, marmite and lettuce sandwiches. We both laughed at that, he had an inspiring sense of humor and was ferociously quick witted, the true model of a man. He was a fitting mentor for me after the mysterious disappearance of my parents, as he was much like my mother, they vanished in a yachting incident when I was fifteen years old.

After living and learning many new and wonderful things in the laboratory and library of Erasmus for five years I decided to venture out into the world.

I moved to the city to exhibit my paintings, mainly landscapes from around the lower north island coasts. They were very good though, and I had gotten several promising reviews and had sold enough work to work for the next year, on next years work. Erasmus had financed me during the early part of my sojourn south, and I had repaid him in a giant piece depicting the coast from Mana island, Kapiti Island standing like a sentinel on verge of the briny deep. We had stayed in touch, of course, he was my parent now and of course my uncle, on my mothers side. He always insisted I call him Erasmus, as he said he preferred his name without trappings.

I had been having a splendid year, meeting new friends, listening to new bands, and experiencing other cultures. I had just returned from a gallery opening of some of my newer work, involving supernatural themes, when I received the "bad news".

I had not been ready for the shock I experienced when I saw what had happened. Perhaps I glossed over the situation when I relayed earlier that I had merely had a cup of tea and a good cry. In fact I had had several cups of tea and sat in stunned silence staring at the piece I had withdrawn from the gallery opening.

The shadows on the trees, the wind rippling through the valley, the vantage point of the painting, resembled what the lady who had witnessed it had described to me over the phone, I was to meet with her in a couple of days.
The man trudging along vaguely aware of a malevolent presence at his back, but despite a furtive glance captured in the painting forever, he cannot see the terrible predator crouched low in the shadows behind him, seeming to glisten with an ethereal glow, the coming death.

I had painted Erasmus's demise, a specific incident that he had said might occur, that I might have some sort of premonition of his death, as there was a certain relationship with divinity in our collective history, and that his father had told him that I had the clairvoyant gift.
The painting sat before me, quietly relaying in the scene.
I must have stared at it for days.

The next strange tidings from the Kapiti Coast jolted me out of my meandering and self pitying malaise.

The dog disappeared from the pen in was kept in, pending a thorough investigation and a man that appeared in the pen had said he had stumbled through the quarantine gate as an employee exited and found his way to a comfortable straw lined pen that he had accidentally locked when he fell over. He was questioned and released.
I had to find that man.

Tune in next week for the second installment in this four part adventure series.

Next week
I spoke to her because I was next of kin, and those in charge of the investigation though it was appropriate I heard testimony from an eyewitness.

Ramble Jamboree-Week One-Existential rambling leading into ramblings on world thought and the chaos engine of militant religion.

2010-12-16T02:34:00.000-08:00

The ramble jamboree has begun.
Write for the sake of writing I always say to myself, and why not.
Ghastly ghoulish ramblings of no particular intent will really get you everywhere and nowhere at the same time. For while you may reach different points where insight can be taken, if you do not start with a clear subject you can easily end with a torrid rant on a wealth of nothing at all.
This is not such a rant though, it is actually a challenge to those who write to actually do so in order to really make people think, to really bend their minds. Why would you not do this? Try to coax readers into breaking through to the mental point of wonder at the existence of the universe and us in it. So bitter we have become, looking backwards for answers to the future, stumbling blindly with our backs turned on what should be our focus, with myriad distractions, obsession with sex, sport, media, and work.
The quest for the real answers has taken a back seat to rampaging materialism and excess that serves little meaningful purpose and serves to inflame old wounds of injustice, just as significant progress is made in the ability to manage the worlds entire population in a more fair and dignified manner.
The world is glued to the distractions, the comforts, in my own life I find myself obsessed on occasion with association football, which is really just a pastime with which to maintain some level of fitness and vitality, but which actually can send one temporarily insane. Utterly meaningless, it is though.
Why is the global consciousness not more productive, proactive and unified?
It still has a lot to do with men who came well before our time and their individual assertions that they were the messengers of god. A disturbingly diabolical amount of it actually, as religious extremists from both camps engage in their perceived 'holy wars' at the expense of the usually sane innocents who become victims.
Proclaiming they know exactly what everything is about because they have a book that was first written thousands of years ago and then rewritten several times in the hundreds of years that followed. "We know!" They exclaim merrily.
"You are blasphemers, god will strike you down, or I will fulfill gods will!"
Its rather difficult to argue with those who act in this manner, and the sane are eventually driven to their own madness elsewhere. Historical religiosity is just an element of the chaos engine.
The chaos engine. I like the sound of that, it was a game i had on one of the pc's we had when I grew up. The universe is the chaos engine I suppose, and religion is one defining aspect of the chaos, however minimal it proves to be is only to be discovered. Don't we always find away to enjoy love and laughter though? In the middle of the uncertainty of the world and its relentless orbit, we can still be free, no matter the shackles modern super fascism puts on us.
We need a proposition of some sort, a definition of objectives and intent, it is a must, some way must be discovered by which we are able to shake off the malaise of history, throw it to the wolf that is senility and fading memory, let it fade. Some strange and wonderfully dynamic proposition.
I propose nothing though, this is a meaningless rant. Really just meant to entertain. It entertained me anyway.

A Rickety Little Jaunt

2010-11-10T23:25:00.001-08:00

To be a bird

'Oh to be a bird gliding into a tree,
leaping across the branches,
then flying off so free,
oh to be a bird, I'd fly fast with my friends,
Bellowing a boisterous cry, I'd lurch across the breeze,
As large and more powerful than a cessna,
I'd move at magnificent speed,
From country to country I'd fly about, twittering like a jester,
Terrorising the people below from Auckland to Manchester.'

There is nothing quite like a wee poem to get the heart laughing. I do enjoy writing nonsense on occasion and have another here,

Down to the Brine

'Down to the ocean is where I will go,
with feet and arms and hair in the sun,
I cannot think of anything as fun,
as waltzing down to the waters edge,
and dipping my arm in the salty brine,
the ocean's kiss salty and divine,
the power of the animals of the sea, and me
at one for a time, as in the water deep,
I forget the world and everything in it,
and float in space as it lies before me,
across the sky, anti gravity water baby,
I reason as to why, I am here and then remember,
Floating is more fun if your mind is dismembered,
I take it apart and float in the brine,
its aroma like strange and dangerous wine,
the brine the brine the wonderful brine,
drink it back, I swear you'll feel fine,
for a time at least before madness prevails,
and you find you know not any longer what sanity is,
then the brine will swallow you in, the sweet and salty brine.

I have decided to write a happy blog as I have heard there are to many whingers out there, I have elected to start the change myself, toward more positive and productive energy. For what use is negative energy when positive is so much more fulfilling and love producing? The optimist should always prevail, even if the pessimist ends up doom-fully predicting the negative outcome. With confidence and desire one should look to the future, mind constantly moving, changing and choosing.
In light of the happy development, I should say that anyone who reads this I hope you can always pull yourself together at any time you think you are drifting a part, and remember the amazing and wonderful thing that you are, as an individual, and of the people who love you, for as Jean Claude Van Damme says in the movie Narco-the secret life of Gustav Klopp, or adventures of a narcoleptic artistic frenchman,
'To those who love you, you are a star'
I like the old line that we are all made of stars as well, quite comforting really, knowing that parts of you have always been here.
Good tidings be upon you, for every day is a day of promise, as we wait and prepare for all eventualities with a mind unfettered by insidious worry, free to think and move across the earth as we see fit.

John Key shows again that he is no leader of the nation

2010-10-05T03:50:00.000-07:00

Paul Henry has fucked up royally this time, and could, if things pan out right, have done serious damage to John Key's reputation as a leader of the nation. Key has proceeded to make excuses about why he did not say anything while live when it happened and then, when interviewed, deferred any comment on the possible outcomes for Henry.
Beating around the bush like a slack jawed lackey, he has confirmed himself to be the worst type of business school educated political hack. True politics involves strong rhetoric that uses issues like this to make powerful points for yours and your parties agenda. In this Key has failed miserably.

This little episode has produced a moment in New Zealand politics where we have seen John Key look absolutely anaemic on national television.

He has come out in the press afterward condmning Henry for what he has said, but his weak and dribbling references to the 'broadcasting standards authority', have underlined that he is not really a leader after all. He never really seemed to have the right manner to lead this country and though he may manage it in an efficient manner, he is no leader.

A real political animal, with a bit of fire in his belly would have sensed the opportunity to put Henry in his place live on air, instead of sitting idly by and cracking a lame joke. If somehow such a figure did not manage this they certainly would not have engaged in the politically correct vomit that churned from his mouth in the interviews following this incident.
The problem with Key is, he's got no balls, Helen Clark had balls, she was someone whp generally took people to task for saying such ridiculous things. Imagine Muldoon seeing this weak willed cream puff in office? He would have chewed Key up and spat him out on parliament steps before the morning break.

Key has finally been shown up to be the epitome of the 'business management' degree holders, good with numbers and business, but useless in the speaking halls and too slow of wit to work without his speech makers.
It was actually identifiable all along and in effect is a tribute to the National party machine in that they took such a candidate and sat him in the prime ministerial seat.
Key may recover from this slightly, but it seems to be a bit of a warning that further spineless blathering could be on the cards for this so called 'leader of the nation'.

The medicated generations

2010-09-16T02:24:00.000-07:00

I am pretty sure I am one of the medicated generations, for there have been a few. Medicated throughout life, from birth to death, with all manner of tonics, medicines and pills.
Thats right, to get through life now, the people in the world who have everything, take lots of pills to deal with having everything, mainly for the guilt of having everything and watching children dying on tv. Hahaha, well, perhaps not always for that, there are myriad reasons of course, you name one.
I must take these pills, because I cannot cope anymore.

It seems a modern phenomenon, and to a certain extent and looked at in a certain way, it is. However, if you look at it as just a progression, there have been 'priests', 'wizards, witches, 'shaman' etc. taking medicines and administering them to others for thousands of years.
The modern world though, is quite full of the notion that we need to take pills because our brains cannot handle the pressure. If this is indeed the case, then why are we not addressing the reasons that everyone goes crazy?
The beast that is society is driving us all crazy. The ravenous animal that is destroying earth and its inhabitants for the sake of securing more 'resources'.

Let us pray to this beast to save us. The beast has proven there are no gods. Then who can we turn to for comfort? Take these pills. Who made them? Doctors and scientists and laboratory technicians. Oh good, down the hatch.
Medicate or face the true peril of the earth. If you choose not to you may just choose self medicate with drugs of your choice, which is a big no-no. The state controls your drug intake, or else. Free will is a dangerous thing as well.
So the state gets you when you pop out of the womb, you get hit with something, and from then on it is the thing that is turned to on any occasion of distress or injury. The comforting caress of medication and all its safety. Honestly, how many harmful medicines do you think have been made available over the years. The perfect example being doctors who prescribed smoking as a good way to deal with anxiety. Perhaps a little extreme, but then extreme in these circumstances is something that goes to gigantic proportions, so really its not an extreme example at all, unless you want it to be.
The state controls your meds, you're schooling and then you are out into the workforce, an element of the larger state, a participant in its systems and a consumer of its information and sustenance. This is not a bad place to be a lot of the time and many roll along in the sheer nothingness of it, as they 'work sweat and slave, saving for a shallow grave' or words to that effect were said by Jim Morrison, the crazy and gifted singing deranged poet who had some interesting insights.
Rolling along in the nothingness of it until something unfortunate happens. Not an accident but a blemish of the soul, an emotional pothole. Where to turn? Well, I know someone who started taking these, they gave them to me, try one if you want. Okay.

Why are we not looking at the root causes of this dependence on meds and fixing it where it is coming from. Children are administered psychiatric medicine at some ridiculous ages now, and for them, it is just the beginning of a life in the grip of chemicals, and the whim of their psychiatrist.
Does this not strike you as odd?
The scientists are just the alchemists evolved so it should be expected that they should create chemicals that contribute to the alchemy of the state system that creates gold from the hopes and dreams of billions, for the greed of a greedy few.

Of course this is forgetting all the 'crusading' (unfortunate reference to a rather depraved military conflict) scientists who are out to save the world. They are of course to be admired for their tenacious will to succeed and excellent and innovative skill ratio. As I do.
It is the state that controls us now though, the great automatic robot of the state that has now been programmed a certain way and we can never go back state. Yes, that state.
I walked outside the other night and paused with wonder beneath a gum tree at the back of the house, moving in the wind it shook, as the gusts twisted its branches. Off to the east were clouds on the hills and to the west clouds as well, rolling through the skies above me, I was amazed at the sheer beautiful power of it, the astonishing force that propels it, that which is by all accounts still far beyond man. In the force of its creativity anyway. Or even perhaps the force of its ability to unleash power while only causing superficial damage. Man have not really sorted this one properly yet. Just big bombs that come close to the force of nature but never truly will, because they have no replenishing factor.
Truly I am one of the medicated generations, as anyone reading this is. Just what the fuck are they prescribing people these days anyway, if you check it out properly it is some interesting study.
Back to the gum tree though, it frequently has a few Tui up there squawking singing and jumping about. They are a boisterous bunch, very comfortable in what they do. It is a splendid thing to see them behave in a manner we can automatically relate to characters we know. They leap from branch to branch speaking in loud voices, before one has enough and flys off and then is actually being chased off as another tries to attack it, in the air, a great show it is, diving and weaving like I imagine fighter planes would have in the days before jets. The slow metal dance of doom in the skies. Air combat. What a concept. The birds showed us how to do it I suppose, or we watched them and did as we saw, they actually did it without a care.
Something that is now beyond humanity. It is a rare person indeed, you find that is fully carefree.
They exist though, I have been one for a time, though in and out of this persona I have lived my life. From no cares to many and then whatever comes next.
Good evening.

Recollections of a Brilliantly Barbarous Birthday Bender

2010-05-27T03:30:00.000-07:00

I remember it was my birthday, a Friday night in the year with three zero's. I decided to go to a concert with friends, for what better way to celebrate the passing of time than with friends and various attempts at hilarity? It was a magical time, there was an electricity in the air, our youth attracted it, like we were keys flying on the back of some scientists kite.

The city was alive that day, as it is most days, but with a tinge of energy that had me now and then entranced. My friends and I had elected to indulge in a splendid assortment of potions for the evening, in our minds assuring us of a mind bendingly good time. It was the beginning of summer, the promise of the new season had everyone in high spirits. The sun had shone during the day and its presence spelled out to us the possibilities of days and days of starlight to guide us on our forages across the planet in the coming months.

We were then very excited when evening came again to cover the earth, a soothing balm to the brightness of the day, though the land and things on it, still radiated the warmth of the now absent star. We strode down the street, kicking our heels up, yelling, laughing and telling great yarns of how wonderful we were.
We found ourselves in the surrounds we had chosen to take up before the evenings entertainment and stationed ourselves there for the allotted time. There was a buzz amongst us as we chose to imbibe fluid and some of the substances we had on hand to help us reach some conclusion that only each individual could know. But we laughed and joked and time passed freely like water running through a brook, it bubbled and coursed, as we did with it.

I remember this all as if I was there, but also as if I was not. I was someone else I suppose, an element of who I am now, but also something a lot rougher but also more refined, a contradiction really, something I find myself to be now also. The music was always a huge part of any time spent among friends, and the battle for supremacy that took place amongst us. Each trying to wrest control of the device which played it, so that we could attempt to show our friends what we felt when we listened to particular songs. Of course there were also the tunes that were loved by a few, but very rarely was everyone satisfied at any choice. The battle raged on as our actions became blurred, and then in certain moments, crystal clear, clarity and chaos, intermingling over the minutes and the hours.

We made our way to the town hall to hear the music. Two favorite performers this evening at the building by the pyramid and the suspended metal globe. The action of making way into the concert is a blur that is partially available to my mind as I heark back, but it has faded to the point where our entry to the actual organ hall is more readily rapidly reminisced.
We walked about for awhile and then I remember myself and a certain dread-locked fellow ended up dancing on top of a roof that was above the eastern door of the the hall, it was a great spot. A merry dance it was, though I remember complaining to my friend that the band kept bringing the music up before inexplicably diverting themselves from the crescendo. He laughed at me, telling me I was being controversial because of the potions and continued to dance.

I recall thinking that there was a especially conspicuous remember of this band that was nowhere to be seen. I peered down over the side of the roof we stood on and into the crowd, it was like looking over a cliff. All through the crowd around the stage I looked, before my eyes settled on a thick line of electrical cords, they snaked back through the hall, under the feet of parts of the gathered listeners. I followed the cords backwards through the hall, and suddenly there he was, the very fellow I had been wondering about, controlling the desk, arms moving in all different directions, turning dials, moving switches, tweaking the experience of everyone present, unbeknown to many of those listening.

Just then a familiar sound was heard from the stage, the beginnings of a bass-line from a well loved number of theirs and it seemed to spur the man at the desk to action of a different sort and he strolled from the desk toward the front of the hall, generating a wave of realization around many that he passed as they saw him go. When he reached the stage he walked straight on, picked up an acoustic guitar and started the riff that the crowd knew so well.
Illumination! A literal cloud of sweet smoke rose from those below as the song amplified through the hall and lifted the crowd to a new level of excitement.
It was a splendid thing to see all of this happen and I remember at the time thinking how wonderful it was and that it was a moment I would never forget, I am glad that I have not, it was spectacularly cool.
We danced like druids at an ancient ceremony, time flowing around us, suspended in portions of seconds, energy flowing from us and everyone else as the band played on, it was a truly enchanted moment, I remember experiencing the most maddening epiphany, spectacular insight into everything I knew for a few moments, and then it was gone. It whirled back to me again and again, after that, over the night and the weekend.

The concert actually ended soon after this and we left into the night, walking the streets, talking and laughing, singing and dancing, free in the darkness and safe in our group, but friendly and happy toward others as we ambled through the town back to the very place we had been only a half hour before the concert.
Conversations sparkled and died, moments of inspiration lit up the room and then drifted into the night, we replenished our supplies and went in search of adventure through the streets. We soon found a bar and played some pool, of all things, all incredibly invigorated by potions and a magical music show, but at the time it seemed to fit.
On through the night we bubbled and coursed, like water through stones, alive and imagining what we would do, then sometimes doing it and sometimes wondering why we imagined. The night went on and events moved around us as we whirled on through town wilder than before, now becoming torrential at times, as the water reached new levels, now more a waterfall than a brook and we cascaded into new places and conversations, new introductions and sometimes old faces met again.

We walked many places, a ball of energy now, amidst the slow drunken stumbling, we darted like hummingbirds compared to the slothful lurching and stumbling that went on around us. Eventually we made it back to the abode we had been in directly before we made our way to the gig and we decided it was time to listen to more music and carry on the party. We did so and then two strange visitors arrived.
They proceeded to sell us a car for a very reasonable sum, a ridiculous sum in fact and it was decided that myself and a chum would take this vehicle and journey northward in search of exotic herb. It seemed brilliant at the time, and it was.
We had a hell of a time moving the car onto the road as it was stuck in some mud when we found it, but it was soon on the road and myself and one who occasionally scrapes were off, around town we went, still buzzing a million thoughts a minute, but somehow making perfect sense to each other and finding our way to the motorway and northward. The drive was exhilarating and magic, certainly more interesting than many car journeys I have taken, though equal in eventfulness to others.
We reached our destination making sure we took many concoctions to keep energy up, legal and illegal and all in the name of fun and adventure. Once we were there we had to look about the place to find out how we would get what it was we meant to get. Luckily someone we knew helped out and we found ourselves with exactly what we had made the trip for and proceeded to my co-pilots friends house to socialize. All the while making sure we kept ourselves awake and alert, energy drinks, alcohol and other substances, the mind was flying like a mad dragon, wheeling through the air breathing fire.

We saw many people in this state, even managing a quick visit to my parents, which I remember partially. We went all over the plains visiting, seeing all sorts of people and blasting through time. Finally some respite, at a cousins house in the wee small hours I slid off into unconsciousness, a few hours I slept, before being awoken by my cousins son, as he rapped a popular rhyme at the time along to the stereo, dancing about laughing, I was flabbergasted at the time, it was a funny moment.
Soon after my co-pilot returned from his errand and we embarked again for the capital, to complete the mission, indulging ourselves in mind altering things again as we went, to the benefit of ourselves and others.

The most astonishing storm greeted us on the way through the middle of the island, thunder, otherworldly wind, horizontal rain, debris and lightning. It was a torrid time.

At one stage we found a tree blocking the road, and despite our state and the nature of our cargo, decided the only thing to do was to try and alert someone to move it. The one who scrapes on occasion, stayed at the car, intent on signaling the presence of the hazard, while I made my way toward the lights further up the road, battling the storm to try to get there. In the end I remember the only way forward was on my hands and knees crawling like an animal along the fence-line, the wind howling over my head like a thousand banshees.

It was a strange moment when I made it to the house, as a high profile event in the news at the time had involved criminal types invading farm houses and holding up the inhabitants, a young man inside demanded an explanation for my presence before opening the door. Soon afterward I was riding a tractor with his older neighbor, back to the scene of the accident, the machine fighting its way through the elements with us perched gratefully on its back.

It was amusing to see when we got there that a man had pulled the tree to the side of the road, a big hulk of a man, but one man all the same, my co-pilot and I were momentarily amazed, then said our goodbyes and drove off southward, through the storm, to the city at the bottom of the island. It was just after ten pm Sunday, the weekend was almost over.

Deterioration of Dompost

2010-03-25T03:30:00.000-07:00

Why does anyone at the Dominion post keep making excuses as to why readership is dropping off. The paper now only has four or five good pieces of writing in it on any one day and leafing through the advertising and assorted rubbish that is printed becomes such a bore that it is far easier to just go online and read something you feel like reading.

The object of print media now should be to entertain and inform at new levels of excellence, as the main drawback of the internet is that there is also too much crap online. The Dompost has a chance to try to engage a new readership that continues to read the paper despite the medium becoming outdated and growing more and more obsolete with every new printing.
There is a chance now to redefine print media in this country and try to get a hold of specialist markets, people who enjoy the feeling of reading from a good old fashioned broadsheet while they relax.

People who will buy a newspaper because they like newspapers. They like reading newspapers. These people are being lost, despite many of them struggling to hold on. I myself am one, I occasionally still purchase a copy just for the sensation of reading from newsprint. But constantly find myself disappointed with the fare and flabbergasted by the sheer boredom that some of the contents bring to me.

The time of specialised markets in such things as books, print media and music is upon us. Some elements are taking better advantage than others. The Dompost could easily bring itself back from the brink with a new agenda. Paying good writers to write good stories and forsaking the endless merry go round of regurgitation that goes on in the various news sources of the world.

Have the news, but make it even briefer, have stories that engage the reader like old style journalism did, when writers actually seemed to really care about every word that left their pens, or keyboard for that matter.

Reading it on the weekend gone, there is precious little that is saving it at the moment. The hope for the future would be that the meagre amounts of interest that are there, could be expanded upon and turned into something that is worth following again.

Greed causes various forms of insanity

2010-02-26T03:24:00.000-08:00

Having recently heard that a group representing my ancestors is claiming economic rights to the airwaves, I am dumbfounded.
How have they convinced themselves of this nonsense? A series of meetings? Consultation with their people?
I find it vaguely disturbing that they would associate this with Maori and in doing so render legitimate claims to the fate of rejection due to utter money grubbing polluting the collective notion of reparation.
Because there are legitimate causes for some reparation, including the approximation of land through force of arms contrary to the agreement between the Crown and Maori.
But in this instance it just goes to show the insanity that greed can bring upon you, the blind and slathering pursuit of the almighty dollar to the embarrassment of those who would seek to take a more rational approach.
It is with a wince of embarrassment and a heavy heart that I think the reaction to this sort of ridiculousness in the face of New Zelands colonial issues. Issues that are being addressed and worked through to the credit of the government and the people of New Zealand.

As Hobson said, We are one people.

Though of course there were those who elected not to sign the treaty and they chose to express their feelings for the crown in a different manner. As did members of the Crown element in their willingness to ignore the agreement from another stance.

We are well past all that though. Though in New Zealand politics such outlandish ideas as catching up economically to Australia it is time we stopped continually looking outside New Zealand and looked into the heart of the matter and started major surgery.
Cut out the dead tissue, revitalise areas that need it, get the country operating on a more sustainable level without indulging in over zealous economics.

It feels odd saying it, as it has been said often before, the people of New Zealand have to start acting like the people of New Zealand, with a collective ideal and vision, so that the future consists of all elements of New Zealand society, with the ability for all cultural identities being represented. Whether it is Maori, European, Chinese, Indian, Somalian, South African plus multiple cultural participation.

"Run to the hills"
"They're coming from the hills"
"Run away from the hills, if you see a hill run the other way" (or words to that affect)
Blackadder.

The hidden machinery of the

2009-10-21T02:34:00.000-07:00

The hidden machinery of the capitalist fascist machine, gathers speed as it rolls on toward its attempt at dominating the planet. It really is, chillingly so, becoming like a futuristic movie out there, large groupings of rich people in secure areas of the globe and also within safer national zones.
Large areas of lawlessness, horror, poverty and death in others.
It is possible with certain amounts of money to live in relative peace, indulging in what you see fit to do while the hammer of the government falls on the populace around you.
Funnily enough, even if you are in a 'safer' more secure area, you are not necessarily safe because of the depraved nature of mankind.

This of course is not something new and humanity has always been inhumane, enlightened, brutal, elegant and depraved, throughout history.

But now we begin to see, like a thick mist rolling off the valley before a gentle breeze revealing the landscape below, a new and strange enlightenment comes to us.

As identity technology and it usage come into full swing we will soon see a great leveling of the people in an amazing way that almost takes us back to the days when large groups of citizens first got together to vote.
Everyone will be identifiable in a larger unit of population as they once were rather than as social groupings according to wealth, class, race etc.
What!?? You say, how can this be? There has never been such equality! Of course you are correct, but now it could finally be upon us, well, for the larger percentage of the global population anyway.

Identity and record of identity storage systems like facebook are the real beginning and future of mass data storage and collection for control of population and research of population variables and methods of categorization and control.

The amusing thing is that though it is a wonderful method of maintaining certain modes of population control it also forces the adherents of it to become part of it themselves in order to exist within it.

This creates the opportunity for individuals or groups to come into positions of huge power over huge groups of the world population.

But then the controllers are in fact under a reverse control which constricts them to the mechanisms of the monstrous capitalist fascist machine they have created, giving them no escape from it as it eventually destroys their minds as they try to discover ways to live forever.
Rant rant, blah blah, hahahaha.

Humanity, the great devourer.

2009-10-06T02:19:00.000-07:00

Nothing is original; except for this blog. I am definitely not original, just a rehash of a genetic code multiplied throughout time, the veil is lifting more by the day as we become more and more knowledgeable by the minute, the ridiculous thing seems to be that less and less people seem to even care how overwhelmingly fascist our world has become.
More Orwellian than Orwell, a braver new world than that prophesied by Huxley, a great monster that swallows us whole as we are born and digests us for thousands of days, extracting the dreams the visions and the very magic of our individual souls from us.
This monster that devours us while nourishing us with its illusions of a life of peace and tranquility beyond the turmoil of a bank balance that is forever seeming to dwindle. For the want of great wealth is still the driving force behind the most power crazed amongst us and their single minded ambition is what shapes our world.
We have gotten to a point where we seem to be almost beyond saving ourselves which is a hopeless feeling that encourages us to go with the flow and stop questioning the foolishness of the world we live in with its moronic obsession with the media and the celebrities that the media hold up as examples for us all.
Instead of really making widespread efforts to educate the world to the levels that we should all be at the wealth is wasted on everything but education while the minds of the planet are wasted on all sorts of increasingly ridiculous pursuits.
The lack of real knowledge that is being shared with the population of earth is one of the most insipid and horrifying attacks on the freedom of us all, for without the knowledge that true education can give us we are no more than slaves to the world that grinds us into dust as it builds its strange mechanical and computerized future.
The World, as in humanity as a living thing, has become an entity, controlled by millions of souls that are fighting for power that they think will give them the answers and the peace they so crave.
We have lost control and it seems that it will be difficult to regain it, especially when even saying that it is lost is viewed as insanity and then on top of this you would be called a delusional megalomaniac.
What future are we hurtling toward, it is hopefully not as bleak as it seems at this point in time, it is sanity restoring to believe in the triumph of the human spirit over the tyranny of money.
Maybe such things as educational inequality and the stupidity of out-dated curriculum and methods can be addressed so that more of the worlds population do not go quietly into the grave having lived a 'full' life and been taxpayers and citizens of a 'just' and 'fair' world.

What an almighty moan this has become. Luckily for me I have an outrageous sense of humor that keeps me alive, a key factor in seeing the world as it is while continuing to live within it.