Everywhere;
seek out miracles; in the mundane and in the everyday, learn to look and write them out across your name.
have heart, have faith, & follow no man’s code,
write them on the water, make them your own,

Desolation angels everywhere….I’m on the road, thank god for freedom; after the sting of disappointment and the hard earthquake work of a tectonic shift is gone comes the mellifluous colour-tones and taste of time, motion; mountain, river and ocean, vision and celebration, dedication and devotion.

Be the water – you cant stay in one place too long but unlike the million raindrops falling on the glass around you  – avoid the path of least resistance. Take the difficult road and be prepared to die for what you believe in. I’ll risk everything to finish recording these songs and I’ll throw everything away…just to write and breathe; songs and messages that eat worlds…

Fill up the sky with broken stones……Fill up the sky with broken bones…

The hand of the SPIRIT was upon me, and set me adrift upon  a bone filled valley; “Son of man, can these bones live? breathe tendons and flesh and skin and breath?”
Suddenly  a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. tendons and flesh and skin covered them, from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live 
they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army…
we are the bone people…

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

Rudyard’s IF represents more than adequately the struggle and difficulties of being an outsider, a traveller with no real destination, a tree broken off from its roots, driftwood amongst a million lonely stones, dispossessed, lacking in direction. Encapsulating a moment ‘beyond’ time and space in the mind of the lone individual, fraught with the vicissitudes, slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; in the eye of the storm & the heat of the battle silent volumes speak.

It’s a sad day for the itinerant, gold panning, dust and steam, pantheist anarcho-primitivist lifestyle I had hoped to foster….for the animal bongo god has moved on to a new home near central Otago. I am temporarily in Otautahi;  and, beautiful as it is, seems wholly a vestibule of atypical middle class anglo-christian aspiration and all the dysfunctional bullshit that people THINK goes with it. All the bullshit that will kill your soul, tie you down and really limit your consciousness. Let’s not forget that Jesus after all was a rebel rouser, a rollingstone, a rouseabout, a mystic and a warrior of consciousness. A danger to the system, a tax evader of sorts, a champion of the dispossessed, the forgotten and the unloved; and a fighter. It’s alright for some, but hailing from Europe I’ve already seen the irreversible damage that the inherent imbalance of materialism (and it’s ugly, bilious progeny greed)  will do to a country. These ugly, lying, bastard children are everywhere….

..more recording scheduled for end October in Aotearoa.

[I will not reduce my music to soundbites; will not compromise; will continue to self doubt; will continue with fits of madness; will do what I want and when; will believe, trust and exist within the great spirit; will learn to accept the daemon; will re-purpose the music altruistically; will not rest; will be patient; will make mistakes; will enjoy the journey; will fight fire with fire & I will burn in hell for it all sooner or later....]

Thanks to the animal bongo god for taking me across Te Wai Pounamu and being key to the metaphysical experiences that shape the great songs we’re recording.

I will fight tooth and nail to preserve the inherent natural beauty and spiritual entity (that is the biosphere) in this country because out there away from the ridiculously inept and vain posturising conceit that we call “modernity”
and the separation and dislocation from our own minds it propagates is where the real living, feeling and thinking exists – in the land…somewhere it is inside us…the great spirit…

Mauriora.