REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission [1 ed.]

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission

period period period ellipsis … Jonathan N. Wakeling

Libra Balances the Books

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Snail Mail: A Letter Home Washington My Master’s Degree in Psychology

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P.S. T.S. The Lost Diary of a Teenage Acidhead

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By the same author The Librarian’s Accounting Museum Version 1.0 The Poetry of Jonathan N. Wakeling Sunwhere In Africa (co-authored with Speak-a-little-French) Tea: A Personal Story (now redacted) Remember Milton? (co-authored with David R. Patient and Neil M. Orr) Dancing the Ice Constitution – Keep Walking – a protest song

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“REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission” by Jonathan N. Wakeling Copyright © 2024 by Libra Balances The Books – All rights reserved Cover image and design Copyright © 2024 Jonathan N. Wakeling

Online? Our online presence: https://librabalancesthebooks.deepweb1.com/ Follow us on social media: https://linktr.ee/librabalancesthebooks Jonathan N. Wakeling dotcom: https://jnwakeling.com/ Business card: https://linktr.ee/jnwakeling

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For The ladies and gents in my life – past and present and posthumously – and all those souls with a love of psychedelics

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Contents Notes............................................................................................ 9 Foreword..................................................................................18 Letters Received.....................................................................29 P.S. T.S. The Lost Diary of a Teenage Acidhead............40 The Start...................................................................................41 Book One - 1992-1996.........................................................42 Book Two - 1997.....................................................................65 The Duels............................................................................... 107 Book Three - 1998............................................................... 130 Book Four - 1999-2000s................................................... 187 The End.................................................................................. 208 Afterword.............................................................................. 210 Postscript and Stop Press................................................ 219 Notes Two.............................................................................. 229

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Notes

REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission

Notes (in no particular order)

aka (Also Known As) Acknowledgements Bibliography Appendix Index etc. aka Easter Eggs and Christmas Presents – Trick-or-Treat aka A Telephone in the 1980s

Precious stones Ruby Sapphire Diamond

Philosophers Socrates Plato Aristotle

Music and Lyrics

Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, 2nd Movement Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony Beethoven’s Triple Concerto Flowers On the Wall – The Statler Brothers Christ the Redeemer – Violent Femmes I sit and watch as tears go by – The Rolling Stones She comes in colours everywhere – The Rolling Stones A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle – U2 Yellow Submarine – The Beatles Octopus’s Garden – The Beatles Rocky Racoon – The Beatles You say hello I say goodbye – The Beatles Happiness is a Warm Gun – The Beatles

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Notes

Music contd.

Walk up and down outside the wall – Pink Floyd Hello is there anybody in there? – Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd Don’t connect. Protect. Don’t expect. Suggest. – Numb, U2 A Little Bitty Tear – Burl Ives Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands – Bob Dylan Soul Suckin Jerk – Beck The future it is murder – Leonard Cohen Love calls you by your name – Leonard Cohen Seeing through your petty lives? ... And you know I will survive – I Spy, Pulp Death Is Not The End – Nick Cave (and Bob Dylan)

Bands and Singers

Enigma Drakensberg Boys Choir Cowboy Junkies Freshlyground Nick Cave Pulp Bob Dylan George and Ringo – Beatles band members Suzanne Vega

Composers

Ludwig van Beethoven Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart George Frideric Handel Dmitri Shostakovich Franz Liszt Niccolò Paganini Sergei Rachmaninoff Frédéric Chopin Johannes Brahms

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Composers contd. Franz Schubert Johann Sebastian Bach

Poetry

My Gift – Shona poem The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran The Road goes ever on and on – J.R.R. Tolkien There was a naughty boy – John Keats The Highwayman – Alfred Noyes The Cremation of Sam McGee – Robert W. Service Winter by Ruth Stone O full of scorpions is my mind – William Shakespeare All the world’s a stage – William Shakespeare Look to the day for it is life – Sanskrit verse

Poets and Playwrights Philippa Berlyn? William Blake William Shakespeare Geoffrey Chaucer John Webster

Place names

Zim – Zimbabwe’s nickname NASA at Big Tree Harare – Homestead C.I.A. – US Government Agency Circus – Harare nightclub The Tube – Harare nightclub I.B. – Italian Bakery, former Harare Restaurant Harry Margolis Hall – Sharon School, Harare St. John’s College – School in Harare

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Notes

Place names contd.

Glen Lorne – Suburb in Harare Lewisam – Suburb in Harare and road name Maasdorp Ave – road name in Harare Rolf Valley – Suburb of Harare Eastlea – Suburb of Harare Chesa Ridge – Peak in Chinamhora Paradise Pools – Nyauri River, near Bindura Granny’s Folly – Cottage in Nyanga Heaven Lodge – Backpacker’s Lodge in Chimanimani Gairezi River – river in Nyanga Zambezi – river in Africa Chirundu – Town in Zimbabwe Cape Town – The Mother City, SA Johannesburg – Capital City of South Africa Sandton City – shopping mall in Johannesburg Logos – former nightclub in Cape Town London – Capital of Britain Aldershot – City in UK Amsterdam – European City, and Drug Capital of the World Sears Roebuck Tower – Building in Chicago Bulawayo – City in Zimbabwe Washington – Capital City and State in America

Citizens and Peoples Moçambican Chinese Canadian Italian Shona English Zulu

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Movies

Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino True Romance, also Tarantino Trainspotting The English Patient The Wall – Pink Floyd A Grand Day Out – Wallace and Gromit Star Trek

Books

Illusions – Richard Bach Lord of the Rings – J.R.R. Tolkien Sophie’s World – Jostein Gaarder The White Hotel – D.M. Thomas Eating Pavlova – D.M. Thomas Mill on the Floss – George Eliot As You Like It – William Shakespeare Gary Larson (The Far Side Cartoons) The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul – Douglas Adams Jane Austen – Pride and Prejudice Tranquil Mind – Rob Nairn

Artists

M.C. Escher

Drinks

Lapsang soushong tea Alcohol Chai tea Coca-Cola Ginger tea Double espresso

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Notes

Drinks contd. Whiskey Scud (Chibuku) Rooibos tea

Drugs

L.S.D. Caffeine Marijuana Tobacco (cigarettes and cigars)

Products

Tennis Biscuits Volvo Pyrex National Geographic Magazine Gideon’s Bible Madison Red Cigarettes

Diseases AIDS

Vegetables Tomatoes

Martial Arts Tai Chi

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Religions

Buddhism Apostolic Faith

Sciences Psychology

Trees Msasa

Musical Instrument Didgeridoo

Letters of the Alphabet Alpha C Whiskey

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Notes

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Foreword

Foreword

Saturday, December 23rd 2023 NASA at Big Tree Harare One impossible job follows another. For surely putting pen to paper after a twenty-fiveyear hiatus is a daunting (if not Sisyphean) task. The draft has been completed by 6pm this evening. Twenty-three and a half thousand words later in an impossible two days playing my own secretary though the years betwixt. It’s a similar thing to what Richard Bach did (and I actually got the idea from him) by talking to his future self or rather his younger self. I didn’t know it until now but what I wrote down back in the 1990s as a teenager – and then young adult – actually make a lot of sense. There is an important caveat – the inability to read my own handwriting – which is at times no more than a scribble. This is a vital point and it ended up adding value to the original text which is indecipherable in some sections. And it leant the title to this volume of musings. By a twist of fate, we have lost my exact words but by luck found a stronger metaphor – that of personal privacy. It’s as though the thoughtful kid that I was had the foresight to redact his own literary voice. So hence forth when you encounter an ellipsis, “…” or “period-period-period” it means that I failed to read my own handwriting as I was typing this diary up in the last few days. Mostly this means a word here and there and the general sense of the “conversation” has been preserved as if by an act of fate. The original being happily “redacted.” The relation to Langley (by which name the C.I.A. is popularly known) comes from their slogan: Duty. Commitment. Mission. Or Duty period, Commitment period, Mission period. Which I have popularized with the short-form of “period-period-period.” With that clarified I feel more at ease to enter the playing field that is this unique volume.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission It was written during the mid to late nineties – for the most part – while Book 4 dips briefly into the early years of the next millennium. The remainder, as in this foreword – and possibly lucky extras yet to be written – are my reflections from the present, as the world enters 2024.

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Foreword

Sunday, Bloody Sunday [10am] Good words to know: nost – marijuana, or mbanje – derived from backwards language for “stoned” as in “nosted” Rifa – Rifa Education Camp, Chirundu – named after the Rifa River. c**t – a common swear word that is regularly redacted in print.

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Dramatis Personae Romances:

C Borgie Kimbal Geraldene* Sarah and Sarah (both Sarahs) Curtis* Danny*

Family: Angus JL Mom Dad*

Friends:

L and Jon (as opposed to any other Johns) Toby Bucknost (Ant versus Anthony*, Daniel’s father) Hayley Rozwald Ginger*

Teachers:

Mr. Carr* – driving instructor Mr. Williams** – Final year of Junior School Mrs. English – English Teacher Mr. Lerivers – Headmaster Mr. Mendis** – Maths Teacher

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Foreword Other:

Myself, Jonathan “Jona” – yours truly Myself, Salo Kin – my nom de plume The At***s – Toby’s family [redacted]

Men:

Simon, Simon and Simon St. Mark Tony Wolfe and a good backrub Brian and his brains

*No longer with us **Probably no longer with us – (it has been many years now!)

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission [12pm] Now the difficult “work” of reflecting on the past begins. You’ll probably notice I don’t swear as much as I used to. I wish I had had a kind old fellow to give me some “unedited” advice when I was growing up – in which circumstance we simply wouldn’t be here penning this “letter home.” Especially regards C. A mutual friend (and my virginity) made the relationship terribly complex – as did a wide variety of psycho-active substances. Technically the less said the better.

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Foreword [after lunch] The ongoing palaver: cigarettes and coffee – a subject I am yet to master. Listening to Enigma after rereading Curtis’s letter and had a private ceremony for him last night at NASA. “Smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’ Captain Kangaroo” – Curtis and I was definitely a Tarantino flick from beginning to end. This song from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack made me think of Curtis just now – and of times gone by and hitting it hard in the late 90s. May this be his memorial “page” and a leaf out of his Frog God multiple reality universe “book.” May it also serve as a placeholder for any other “Memorial” – to be or not to be – either they’re too numerous to list here or they haven’t happened yet – (or they’re none of my business.) An … ellipsis to be cryptic Curtis – frog bless you. I keep hearin’ you’re concerned about my happiness But all that thought you’re givin’ me is conscience I guess If I were walkin’ in your shoes, I wouldn’t worry none While you and your friends are worried about me, I’m havin’ lots of fun Countin’ flowers on the wall That don’t bother me at all Playin’ solitaire ‘til dawn with a deck of 51 Smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’ Captain Kangaroo Now don’t tell me, I’ve nothin’ to do Last night I dressed in tails, pretended I was on the town As long as I can dream it’s hard to slow this swinger down So please don’t give a thought to me, I’m really doin’ fine You can always find me here, I’m havin’ quite a time Countin’ flowers on the wall That don’t bother me at all Playin’ solitaire ‘til dawn with a deck of 51 Smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’ Captain Kangaroo

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Now don’t tell me, I’ve nothin’ to do It’s good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright Anyway my eyes are not accustomed to this light And my shoes are not accustomed to this hard concrete So I must go back to my room and make my day complete Countin’ flowers on the wall That don’t bother me at all Playin’ solitaire ‘til dawn with a deck of 51 Smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’ Captain Kangaroo Now don’t tell me, I’ve nothin’ to do Don’t tell me, I’ve nothin’ to do – Flowers On the Wall, The Statler Brothers

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Foreword [around tea time] I’m still smoking cigarettes in (almost) 2024 – however. I’ve been on psych meds since 2007 and got clean and sober a year and a half ago. Thus, circumstances with insane odds of happening, or not happening, led to the present moment – “she loves me, she loves me not.” Believe it or not L.S.D. is actually a love story. Changes the history of the C.I.A. completely MKUltra. And now for a well-tuned piece of revisionist history folks…. dot dot dot. Fait accompli Mr. President. Belt up and enjoy the ride Homo sapiens…

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Letters Received

REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Dear Jona We’re at Circus Bye

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Letters Received

September 97 (made a small fuckup so I had to stick paper on top) Thank you for all; everything. “You – special, miraculous, unrepeatable, fragile, fearful, tender, lost, sparkling ruby emerald jewel, rainbow splendour person” -JOAN BAEZThank you for being such a jewel in my life. I love you P.S. FROM ICHY CARROT

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SUN 22.6.97 I love you lots + lots sweetie Sorry about the hassle on Sat I caused

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Letters Received

[8:00 pm Mon Night] For Jona “We were talking about the space between us all and the people who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion. Never glimpse the truth then it’s far too late when they pass away. We were talking about the love we all could share when we find it. Try to realise it’s all within yourself, no-one else can make you change and see you’re really only very small, and life flows on within you and without you. When you’ve seen beyond yourself, then you may find, peace of mind, is waiting there – and the time will come when you see we’re all one, and life flows on within you and without you” -BEATLESI’d like to speak to you on the phone but I’m too lazy to get out of bed “Then she said, speak to us of love. And he raised his head and with a great voice said: When he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams When love beckons you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging earth. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of life’s heart.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be them: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.” -KAHLIL GIBRAN-

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Letters Received My gift “You are my gift from heaven, truly when you grant me a smile I am blessed I say by my mother, there is my precious one; even if you stand by, I am proud to point at you. When there is a great gathering Your stature please me to watch, Your eyes shining in the dark Your beauty is my riches that I hide When your lips move I drink you in rapture, O, my beauty! I think of you, when you are absent from me, as in death, I give you my heart knowingly to guard because you are my gift It is you who knows how to please and comfort me in life, the beauty of your body tugs at me, it has taken my thoughts Love burns me like a pipe of hemp, the pipe which is worshiped and bitten by the fire which drives me…… You are my blessed gift from heaven, Except I fear witches, I would have carried you on my back, eloped with you to my far away country where we chase butterflies with grass nets in my country where the many people of the cloud live” –translated from Shona by Christopher Aaron

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission What do you think of that? I think its really beautiful in its own way, I think its sincere and everything means what’s written down. “with you, I am a little less alone. There is a quality in laughter that is warm, there is a sharing in the smile that grows behind the eyes, to spread like waves of sound; and from such sharing a compassion flows. There is a quality in laughter that is kind, love has its jealousies; hate chokes like …; friendship that fails torments the lonely mind. Laughter has a tender meaning of its own. With you, I am a little less alone -Phillipa BerlynI’d really like to speak to you now – but! Can’t be bothered to get out of bed. I wonder what you’re doing – are you thinking of me too? “but the light came and the day bled through the sky and the sun, and the sun made it hard to get through and the radio only played love songs so she cried, though she knew it’s such a bad thing to do. Can’t you see? Someone should have helped her through the day. Someone like the moon” -PULP-

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Letters Received

Monday July 98 Dear J: Struggling for apt words and apt feelings, I want you to know how I feel but I’m not sure myself. I do know I love you but I don’t dig dependency/don’t want to loose myself in you nor you in me. I love your textures and your tones as they have been defined by you. Long overdue. I realise that all this time I’ve been trying to work out who you are/where you are and you’ve always been there. Your rich ironies – you’re so obvious in your prehistoric perfect communications but I know at the same time I haven’t got a clue… Ever yours, K.

❤

I’m not quite sure what I wanted to say –maybe I just wanted to see my writing in your beautiful book!

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Good evening. Cups of tea for lunch with London. The cryptic of cryptices has winged to your paws, Mr. Jono. Feelying happily mad. Want to crypicisee, so 987654321=1? Hehe, sorry. Saner! –> Life in Aldershot? Grey, mad, small, compartmentalized, orderly, dull, excruciating. Blue, mad cold fields, damp sunshine – what an ordeal but occasional breath-taking beauty. Like the gas tower at sunset. Like the moonlit cemetery. Like the living cemetery of London, coming in on the train. Lullington. Beachy head. Music fills my evenings, and too my writing. Work eats much time, however (I still cannot fathom my strange speech! Do I generally use such outmoded dialect?) The frog, my frog, is stronger now than ever. I am getting ready to publish, perhaps. As I was saying, work fills much of my time. I am being paid quite well, but my budget is proving tricky – It is v. hard to save, price of living very high. Costs me at least £120 per week – that’s Z$7200 per week, and as much again on tax. If I want a car, I will be paying as much insurance as the (cheap!) car is worth. Boring insanity!! How are you? You must write me a letter – tell me all about your life now. Geraldene sounds interesting. I’m back (oops, you don’t know I’d just put the “Enigma” CD on – in retrospect quite appropriate) Yes. I found an interesting girl, but more of that in the next letter. Delicious! (The artist formally known as Curtis) Write! P.S. I’ve learned to use my right brain hemisphere

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Letters Received

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P.S.T.S.The Lost Diary of a Teenage Acidhead

The Start THE BEGINNING of “The Book” – Redacted “Once upon a time...”

Book One - 1992-1996

Book One - 1992-1996

Hall of Fame as at 5 July 1995 … for “filling in” purposes while good names are being concocted. They are not for sale. Initials B.B.P. G. F.P.

First Name Blaze Gunbit Ford Felix O.S.B. Oafwill F.P.O. Frogbernie P.Y.J. Prostetnic F.S.D. Frans B.I.H. Bun Non-Travelling Reserve R.D.D. Random M.H.B. hMaxh Reserves (11–20) S.D.M. T.T.T. I.C.S. O.O.K. P.L.O. C.P. P.M.T.

Super Trillian© Ice-cream man Onjab Palg Corny Perluxy Narco

Ultra–Drop Outs (1081–The End) Rory Raymond

Second Name Blaise

Sex M M M

Spring Plexidude Vogon “Sitting” In-the-Fridge

Third Name Pascal Walhouse Prefect© Rice Butt Oxymoron Jeltz© Duck Harry

Dextor Halh

Dent hBoilh

F Yes

Duper Tyle Cornolla Obiz Liberation

No F

Manfred

Mole Tol-wazin Smith Kiit Orki Pisspot© Tade

Bullshit

Marcaussen Fuckmonger

M M M M M

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15 September 1994 Drakensberg Boys Choir At the end of the second period of Wednesday the 14th of September 1994 the junior choir gathered noisily beside the Saint John’s School buses and then we excitedly clambered on to the buses. It was then that we started the long and arduous journey to the Harry Margolis Hall. The door slammed shut and we were off. Some seat covers had torn and the sickly yellow foam was showing. As we mounted the first hump the door rattled and its hinges creaked. The bearded driver looked uneasy. The second was almost too much for him and we swerved to the right nearly hitting an orange volvo which panicked hooting wildly as it veered into the littered ditch. I caught a glimpse of a police car on our tail, we all sat nervously in the bus as he flagged us down. A scud fell into a pothole as the driver climbed down onto the roughly tarred road. The policeman stood sternly facing him, clipboard in one hand, an alcohol detecting device in the other. Three leaves of mbanje hung out of his lover pocket and his eyes were swimming.

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Book One - 1992-1996

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Day 1 Accounts English History History Chemistry Biology Maths17

Day 2 Accounts Accounts Chemistry English Physics Geography Maths6

Day 3 Geography Maths7 Maths English Biology Biology Physics

Day 4 English Geography Chemistry Chemistry Maths2 Accounts Accounts

Day 5 Physics Physics English Maths Geography Biology History

Wed Biology Geography History History Maths2 P.E. English

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11–12 October 1995 Guy Fawkes in Glen Lorne

Inspiration – The Moon Now red, now golden, now pallid blue-white My body is restricted to the wall of the rondavel from which I see the moon My mind dances and leaps through the vastness of eternity. The Moon wanes as I wane For addiction pays, pays its toll I am wanning paler than the moon Am the moon for a nost, Or nicotine may be my need. S-M-O-K-E B-R-E-A-K Nicotine helped but was not the cure. Red-tainted by a polluted planet, Golden-gaining its virginity White wholly beautiful My mind is free My head aches for substances have been abused May my soul learn from the moon, and Rise above this polluted world.

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Book One - 1992-1996

22 October 1995 The rain has at last started. It has been overcast now for nearly two days with only a light drizzle yesterday evening. If it carries on like this the rains will either set in or go away. I suspect the later but hope the former. I am watching the world from the Lewisam residence. I am drinking a lovely cup of lapsang soushong tea, eating a Tennis Biscuit, smoking a Madison Red and thinking how wonderful it would be to be listening to Beethoven’s 5th, Second Movement – which I am. I am also thinking how marvellously wonderful it would be to have peace of mind; which I am on the verge of, although it is still lightyears away. I am finally coming to terms with reality: Peace of mind does not lie with nicotine, alcohol or even nost. Maybe cocaine will do me good. Ha ha ha. The clouds have given me the opportunity to think up a depressing yet thoughtful analogy of my life: I am passing through a grey part of life. True darkness may still be to come but I hope it has passed. There are two mediums of true light intensity, one of them belongs with substances and all my current friends, the other lies with peace of mind. To gain peace of mind (lightyears away) I must return to hermitism (the art of being a hermit.) Contrary to an earlier statement I believe that hermitism is true darkeness. True light can only be seen from true darkness. From peace of mind I shall go to Amsterdam and probably fuck up life altogether. But I hope to mix peace of mind with nost to achieve ultimate success. When I was a hermit I read “The Lord of the Rings” for the first time. Perhaps I shall return to hermitism if I read it again. I am now not going to go down to the shops and buy some cigarettes. I am now going to, for the fourth time, start reading “The Lord of the Rings,” now. And I hope it rains “The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.” A second analogy of life.

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Book One - 1992-1996

21 September 1996 If I had two loaves of bread I would sell one and buy hyacinths to feed my soul (thank you andy for being yourself) Christ the redeemer towering high over Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Rio REPEAT Where they held a summit to save the world And to mark the time when development as Traditionally understood had failed And the affluent North raping the south, Investment from the north means economic bondage for the south Under the burden of dept payments I was with a whore in Copenhagen Drinking 800 dollars’ worth of champagne In Kroner She came from Rio We were trying to save the world But we did not get what we wanted She wanted money – she did not get what she wanted I missed my wife I did not get what I wanted Death sat on our laps, death sits on all our laps. While Christ the redeemer towers high over Rio. Rio de Janeiro, Rio REPEAT

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(moo too) 1992 There was a naughty boy And a naughty boy was he He ran away to Ghana The people for to see There he found – that the ground Was as hard – That a yard Was as long – That a song Was as merry – That a cherry Was as red – – That lead Was as weighty – That fourscore Was as eighty – That a door Was as wooden As in Côte d’Ivoire — So he stood in His shoes And he wonder’d He wonder’d He stood in his shoes and wonder’d

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Book One - 1992-1996

1994 “R + T”* My eyes shut My mind went blank I was in deep thought Then, “Yeeeeeeooooooooowwwwww” Something happened Thud, I hit the ground The scud fell beside me Chibuku trickled down my face A black man Strode up – Heavily shod He booted me in the stomach My mind went blank *Rough and Tough This poem is an example of him. I have always been anti-conformist. When I wrote this I thought of scud what most people (in the white sect of Zim society) do – that is a repulsive sludgy liquid. It’s very ironic that now three years later I am drinking it on a regular basis. This reference to “a black man” was not intended to be in any way racist: white people simply associate scud with black people.

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July 1996 “Philosophical Bullshit” Look to this day: For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course Lie all the verities and realities of your existence. The bliss of growth, The splendour of beauty The glory of action, For yesterday is but a vision And tomorrow is only a dream; And today well-lived, makes Every yesterday a dream of happiness And every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well therefore to this day; Such is the salutation of the dawn So wonderful to cry in front of so many people. Using freedom of speech (“philosophical bullshit”). Unable to communicate with my former “friends” so distant in their lurid green blazers. Then trying in vain to drown my emotions in alcohol. Fuck I was talking to Mr. Slater “I now know that I did not know Danny at all but that we are probably the two most similar people on this planet. Our friendship could have (would have) saved his life. Am I therefore guilty of murder because I threw away that friendship.”

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Book One - 1992-1996

Space Hounds Bleep Bleep “This is Horse; Dark Horse.” “Hello this is Star Control, Red Fox has just warped himself.” “I’m right on his tail!” Owt! Hum Bleep Swoon Bang! “Space Hounds? Heel boys! Heel!” Arr, arr “Commander, Horse, Reddy is in our sights.” Red looked behind him “Dang that equine bugger’s after me.” Red flicked the dreaded SUPER-SPEED™ switch Suddenly Reddy vanished from Horse’s radar “He’s warped AGAIN!” “Oh, no!” “Yes, sir, he has He’s gone into SUPER-SPEED™ Dan was a dark horse – we had that in common at least. “Dang” and “bugger” remind me a lot of Dan this is Dan’s imagination – my homework

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Supplies weapons and dynamite to the briefs – Italian

Moçambican resistance.

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Book One - 1992-1996

1992 The Highwayman The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding— Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard. He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord’s daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. Alfred Noyes I am so intensely pissed off with myself that I didn’t apologize to Mr. Williams – one of my mentors. What a wonderful man.

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L.S.D. Acid is a fascinating topic It is a synthetic drug I am against synthetic drugs It, like anything “artificial” is an integrated part of the evolution of the species But how can I be in any way opposed to beauty – I’m not. Acid cannot be described as beautiful – It’s not It’s fantastical – it’s exquisite – it’s maniacal in its abruptness It’s not addictive like cigarettes or nost is addictive It’s addictive like testosterone is addictive. One has a deep wonton love for it. An intense, bloodthirsty lust for it. A lust to be someone or something you’re not or, perhaps, would like to be.

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1994 The Liquid Centre Dramatis Personae Gunbit Walhouse Chadwik Pill Oafwill Springbutt Tobold of Longbottom Drew Quade Oswald or “Herb” Scene: Sears Roebuck Tower, Chicago 1984 CHADWIK: I’ve got a frog in my throat OAFWILL: Do I care? GUNBIT: Stop flustering me with questions. CHADWIK: I dare you to put a whole aubergine in your earhole. DREW: Own up. TOBOLD: To what? GUNBIT: Stop flustering me with questions. DREW: Don’t worry they’ll move CHADWIK: What do you think I was going to do? GUNBIT: Stop flustering me with questions. [Oafwill snickers to himself a devious plan hatching in his mind] OAFWILL: [Bursts out in a fluster of questions, all irrelevant, some very complex, some insane] [Gunbit with a crazed look leaps off the top of the building] GUNBIT: [falling] Stop flustering me with questions. CHADWIK: Well I ‘spose I don’t need the bowling ball now. I shall finish this before I die. How awful that Dan predicts his suicide almost a year before it happened and no-one paid any attention. I long to go back to that sunny day of bullshitting.

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1995 Stolen I tried to bargain, but He would not listen Again I tried, with terms, seemingly More lenient Again failed, so With my money, My strength. I toiled, Brought the goods. And returned. They benefited us both for a time. Although I gave him half. In my absence the other half, My half, Was gone, Stolen What shit. I hope I’m a bit more mature than I was then.

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The Cremation of Sam McGee There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm— Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

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Guilt I was guilty? No Yes? In my mind not, but I was a criminal! Guilty of a crime I had not committed – I would not enjoy freedom for much longer I was on the run. Is it treason to be absent from – From – I cannot say it – Rugby supporting? In my mind no. I was running from them Whether they would fumble with the records – And perhaps – lose my name. Finally they caught me. It was there that I felt guilty, And afraid – very afraid. And guilty, Although I was not.

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Rushing Ahead Approaching – mist shrouded, the concrete jungle looms, ominously Before me. Passing its eves, naïve, I am seduced by, a Merciless, Terrifyingly immense, (And lucrative) business, Contained within a massive, flourishing, concrete tree Its leaves – money. I climb this tree to ultimate success, Striving for victory, Only to be thrown down – By my own collegues (And the taxman). My second attempt proves best, and Eventually I become supreme, The most moneyed, Snobbish, King of the jungle Given to my work (And alcohol). Socially rejected Divorced Suicidal I visit a shrink Then: Having tamed this harsh jungle, I find true success – In modesty Pushing ahead – A better life before me.

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Elephant Soul Protea spider Pringle, pringle protea The way an acacia elephant stares you in the heart, The way a horse sits on a park bench. Ideal door English Whore hut thrash Long red forehead Twelve bore flag post. Herb the Oscar Spain the spider I just want to be living in an elephant soul And then Reddy went into SUPERSPEED© And Horse committed living suicide.

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Book One - 1992-1996 As humans we have a commitment to ourselves, not as a race but individually as people – each person in turn. The basis of our entire existence should be love. One cannot truly love anything or anyone until one loves oneself. This love of oneself cannot be considered as vanity. It is complete dedication to oneself. Make a god of yourself – worship yourself. Believe in everything you do at any expense. Although you are “the only worthwhile person on earth” every other individual person is your equal. Love makes us superhuman it is ultimate unstoppable. There is no such thing as an individual success we can only succeed, not as a population or a race or a species but as an existence, an eternity. If you do not love life (i.e. everything) you do not deserve anything. You cannot love all the petty trivial matters, things and people in everyday life – that is not what I mean. I am asking you to rise above the physical world and love the existence – life. Love life. The physical world is so insignificant yet everyone takes it so seriously. All we need is love

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Sunday 20 April 1997 I’ve just had a beautifully emotional read through for the first time since I started this book. Today is a memorable day. A few quotes “I sit and watch as tears go by” Self-exploration. “Just remember that death is not the end. The sound track to my first real kiss last Thursday. Nick Cave has achieved a bit of popularity in my little world. I regret not doing this years ago but in a way I am only able to approach it fully now i.e. the emotional background to the tongue twisting (even I wouldn’t excuse such a pathetic pun) “She comes in colours everywhere” Couldn’t help writing it down wonderful … in this song. “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” Besides the fact that I left the song on repeat while I was being lectured last night: it basically means that I do not yet have confidence in the magnitude of C’s emotions I’ve decided to restrict my visits to L’s to a few minutes. They are emotional enough as it is. I did make a bit of progress in the development of the relationship with Larson and Escher I think that Saskia’s wonderful and Jake’s very pleasant. I feel that she has every right to suspect a bit of a fuck last night. She knows my … about me – my naivety – my virginity. I hope C don’t feel too bad about telling me to fuck off on … of her… She needs to have much more confidence in what others say especially her own children. I wish I hadn’t stuck my finger up C’s c**t. It … made us both feel mildly uncomfortable. C’s imagination never care to … me. I think that Bucknost has always been my guardian angel My dream. The car, the car park. The … wildly, the abruptness of the dream its complete intensity. I’m sure it was the driving test and Mr. Carr was not in the car. But there was an absolutely fascinating comedy with my … I’m slowly realizing what metaphoric songs the “Yellow Submarine” and “Octopus’s Garden” are. Fire of the truth is a sin (sin – not the religious sense)

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21 April I miss C a lot. I miss her presence rather than her body. I need an … for my … I want to please her but I don’t need to speak to her on the phone – I’d much prefer to talk with her face to face. … was great it took my mind off everything. I hope Bucknost … I’m looking forward to some Escherings on my wall. … seems to be enjoying his own home but we’ll have to gain … a bit more to do with those hands. I live for those fleeting moments of complete … Riding between the seas of … grass. I wonder if … as at ease as myself. On the left a magnificently ochre-orange sun turns the sky the colour of fire, wispy grey clouds. On the left and above blue darkening on the horizon with a perfect moon which seems to be full of itself tonight. Why do I get so annoyed when I can’t do something. Maybe I subconsciously overestimate my ability whilst my consciousness is opposite. It actually is a pleasure to complete an identity. It made me happy to hear of Toby’s appreciation of …. They really are magical. Last night I O.D.’d a bit much on – couldn’t get to sleep thinking about C. Really cool to see Rozwald when I woke up. He really does have a most excellent … I wish I could have that complete … (…) that he has. I would deliberate a lot over what I wanted. Like my mother. I … that doing fuck all atmosphere which prevails sometimes. I’m not going to anticipate anything grand about these events. Fuck I’m pissed off that I missed C’s … (… of Curtis). Mostly that’s why I … here on the kopje so much. Anyway I’m very tired and so I’ll try and get to sleep soon with the hope of dreams. I wonder if you want to dream you met – probably not human it’s all in your subconscious. I always imagine how lonely … actually am.

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22 April 1997 After finishing “The English Patient” I … went for a walk to my spot in the Vlei. Fuck its beautiful out there. I don’t know why I don’t go every day but making that nost spot it is couple of grey smoky looking clouds obscured an otherwise spectacular moonrise – it brought back a memory from about a year ago. You know that strange longing emotion that one gets when remembering experiences of youth. Fuck knows why that man was running through the … in a … It’s almost impossible to envisage the … of that tramp (… dweller) although he seemed ... at … – I would be with a … like that. I wish my reading speed is faster it really would be wonderful, and my handwriting mildly legible what a pity I won’t be able to read all this shit C – I am so lucky to have with you. Today’s …one-sided relationships. My life seems completely composed of one-sided relationships. If you are in love with me I’m sure I would know by now. Therefore I presume that you have considerable admiration for me. This means that our relationship is very one-sided. Have you ever been in love before? I cannot believe that you have not. I do have delusions you weren’t in love with me. It makes me repulsive for me to expect an ever meant you to be or feel what you are want or do not. I cannot handle a one-sided relationship of this magnitude. Then can it be possible to repent then intimately of that … “…” means rather … me but … it anyway. Fuck him have I anyway I he … my compatibility – such a thought yours against my entire philosophy My hand will have to be chopped of before I stop picking at my face. I love the nights of butt filled ashtrays now that I don’t smoke. Why does everyone have such a … of and it really is such an exquisite thing. I must admit it’s not smut but what is a … … few as men … tomorrow – it doesn’t why I know why I don’t blame my mommy. It’s humane I think the legal systems … there shouldn’t be a legal system. They shouldn’t have to be controlled. It’s because we are controlled that we need to be controlled. I’ve decided to call that pot … but struggle would like the … of her very “…”

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Book Two - 1997 Fear of the truth is a sin Black gods gowned in white Tempt me with generous … Flutterbys dance in a … Sauna of green … I notice this with a … understanding Beyond its limits my … of fire is burning the rust of its fuel If one does not trust oneself one is blind Rise above the prairie the priests and Their butterfly sermons – past and present … the future seems more definable up here. But it is truly here

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26 April Flowers … through … of love like love … through the ether. People don’t think … up up … me so, so, so, so high, small. Let’s think more. …, death, … and, … fuck off … insanity. Like the edges of a razorblade. Flowing … the surface … with …

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27 April 1997 I’m free. I feel free. I’ve decided that “The Wall” is perfect, I’ve always felt that but I haven’t written it down until now. Perfect is Its … of the truth. The truth is very very (OD) scarry, but I’m gradually getting less and less afraid of it, less and less afraid of myself and who I am. But who am I – I suppose that is the purpose of this book to discover myself (…) It leaves one how so many people are so afraid of the truth. Angus isn’t very responsive. Why am I so very scared of the truth I thought that today was wonderful. Waking up next to C was a fucking good start. What an amazing hangover. It’s amazing what people can do. I feel as if I was home yesterday. I wonder if Sarah appreciates her imagination as much as we do. I find it very difficult to relate to this “down to earth chit-chat.” I wish I could it would make life …

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28 April 1997 Today had an extremely depressing start. Breakfast just went completely wrong. Very interesting how disrupted one of routine can affect one so much. Managed to completely cock-up C’s call it was as if we are waiting for the first time very embarrassing. Read “Living Suicide” and “The Mutherfucker” for the first time … they … written and ended up shaking with fear of myself. I was feeling a bit fucking emotional when C phoned. … same Angus will be able to … a fairly … chat. I’m not entirely comfortable with the situation. She’s not open enough with how she feels about herself. Probably as a result of drugs – exactly how I was at that stage in my life. “The White Hotel” is so brilliant I hope C doesn’t think I’m trying to get her to have sex with me by making her read it. One can certainly not judge book by the first few chapters. … is just not the same without Mother. Dad’s just not the same without mom. It’s so depressing because this could be the most exquisitely beautiful house. But … it would need the right people to create the right atmosphere. I could live in a sewer if I liked the people enough but I ... live in a castle if I hated the … The White Hotel then bed – and know I’ve got some protective discission.

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29 April 1997 Today was … Let me try to calm down a bit. Woke up got out of bed. Realised I’ve had a serious wet dream last night (probably a motive of C and the White Hotel.) Showered thoroughly, …stupidly pathetic … breakfast, helped … with … (he’s absolutely hopeless – shouldn’t we anything more … than a … C’s house.) Today, Laura, Jake and C … is ... Toby failed to get I.D. E.T’d to Boty’s and make waffles. Buckland arrived with a fucking … afternoon drinking scud (4 + a …) … through the … up into the shy ... … past … to

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30 April 1997 I’ve gained a lot of confidence in C generally. She has every right to be afraid of the real reality – everyone is including myself (although to a lesser extent than most people) Secretly she seems very keen on the relationship. I think that she needs it as much as me although she doesn’t realise this as much as I do. … definitely going to talk to Sarah next time I see her. Is there anybody out there? Hello is there anybody in there? Does anybody else in here feel the way I do? My last driving lesson with Mr. Carr this afternoon. Why is my mother so afraid of what her best friend thinks of her. I have become comfortably numb. I am a completely … person. Is everyone else who’s strange. Fuck reality. I am reality. It is my … my obligation, my life to make the world believe in … Fucking shit driving lesson. I completely switched off from the beginning otherwise I would have to angry and crashed the car. I really don’t want any driving license. I’m extremely keen on joining Tai Chi classes. I’m very interested in this Buddhist shit – disregard for permanent things. My throat is so sore when I swallow. Nick Cave is escapism. I always manage to forget something at Lewisam this time it’s “Eating Pavlova” I believe that a lot of Mr. Carr says is right – he has so much perception of who other people are. I have fuck all self-control. I have to change that to get anywhere. Relax. Don’t let other people interfere with your brain waves. Simple minded. I am right fuck everyone. … ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL. Mr. Carr is one of my greatest mentors. That absolute control is so special. That absolute confidence. The first person I’ve met who actually practises my philosophy (L is very similar … she doesn’t know how to conceal her emotions) I don’t believe is concealing feelings and emotions but to have complete control over oneself you have to be a … to control emotions in certain circumstances. I must improve my absorption and … of reality. One has to be able to identify what really is happening one can … it I’m thinking more and more how appallingly hard drugs are. Mr. Carr doesn’t need drugs because he’s so high all the time that he doesn’t even … they are there. I’d hate to … She loves me She loves me not FACT + FICTION The … deceiving at this stage in my life – I can see how ultimately … I would be if his time of life is real and I not just naturally gullible. I can see myself being the preacher of … It’s my … Phee Hore. She never seems to feel at home. She doesn’t understand who I am.

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Book Two - 1997 I can’t be so afraid of mathematics. The … just anywhere if you let fear out. … I get extremely sudden and extreme mood changes.

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1 May 1997 Some sort of party although it looks more like a shopping mall (Sandton City). Pam Hartnack and Sandra Harnden gloating over C. I pretend to be “proud” instead of killing them which I should have done. One of the most … dreams I’ve had in a long time. I’ve forgotten a vital connection between the campsite and the train station. Probably brought about by the … of going to Nyanga with C. She unfortunately didn’t quite make it in the dream. It was probably with … although I didn’t see myself there. The only person I saw was Martin Hutton-Squire who walked over to the completely exposed long drop very near the gathering, pulled his pants down and said “please excuse me” I thought this was rather wonderful. The “campsite” showed some … being at the Gairezi – the … except there were no mountains of valleys. We did travel on a series of dirt roads to get there but I think we were probably in Chirundu – there was that rather hot and dry bush atmosphere. I’ve forgotten the next part but now we’re (me and Toby) in a place that looks identical to Cape Town station except it’s in Chirundu. The … of ours decides that he is going to pretend to be one these attendants. He’s carrying so many bags (all the same) and … for the “last” carriage. We are running after him and we just manage to hop on as the train is moving. He drops all his keys and we all go … Half the carriage is this open-air platform. This “last” carriage (…) has an identical atmosphere to Logos (inside-outside/upstairs-downstairs) except where rushing through a great plain near Chirundu and any … this is one of the most beautiful … I’ve seen in a long time. I’m not on anything but there’s lots of people on the … the rain blowing and the wind. I’ve woken up at some point and can’t get back into the dream. I like Curtis’s ideas and not him personally. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just that I don’t find it totally agreeable. He’s like my father in some ways. I’m not …but I did in fact know of his filosofy for a considerable length of time before today mainly because he told me – although he doesn’t remember. He is rather … in what he thinks. As I and … is impossible to preach until you practise what you believe in I thought it was very apt because for out little … “Jericho Apostolic Church” – we would have made minimal progress … NEVER HAVE BREAKFAST (…) BEFORE GOING TO BED.

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2 May 1997 But dreams are the most inevitable things. The closest human experience to … If only you don’t wake up … a fascinating dream about Roy Kaiser aw with the … was extremely … I have a feeling it ... in another of second although it seemed are longer. A definite … can be made with Mdme Cottin and the loves of “The White Hotel.” I feel that this book should only be read after one has lost one’s virginity. I find it necessarily sinful to have … to such a great extent.

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3 May 1997 …

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4–8 May 1997 Suddenly realized I’m fucking 17. Fuckin’ scarry. What the fuck. Have I … my life. Why does it take this long to realize how important my life is. How important this world is and how important all the people in it are. Anyway I myself try and pretend that this is a diary. Boty and Buckland now a …Jo’burg with …

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Happy Birthday C I love you. It’s almost embarrassing to compare such an exquisitely vast emotion into three simple words. It’s almost sinful to do so. Such a statement is in fact self-defeating as it is impossible to express the sole reason for our existence onto such a material thing as paper. It is also a pointless statement as in saying I love you I am stating the obvious. If this is not obvious it is not true, it is impossible to conceal love. Is it right to be so obsessed with the truth. Is reality real. Love is blinding. I am your birthday present. If I have not already done so I am giving myself to you. … CD., … jewellery, red flowers, sunglasses, canvas. All material. All meaningless. All dead – lifeless. Thought, emotions, love, hate, anger, sadness, happiness, joy, ecstasy, pain. All real, powerful, alive, Death is not the end for love cannot dim. We don’t need bodies we just need each other. “All alone, or in twos The ones who really love you Walk up and down outside the wall Some hand in hand Some gathered together in bands The bleeding hearts and the artists Make their stand And when they’ve given you their all Some stagger and fall after all it’s not easy Banging your head against some mad buggers wall” Love is like water. It falls pure on the top of the most perilous mountains of life. It gains speed and volume as it forms rivers vast, unstoppable, frightening, … real. Eventually it might dissipate into the … life to be stored among the deep recesses of the mind, or it might evaporate and again be … of earthly hoards to wander at will and find new home. Above all it is indestructible. I … I’m sorry if all this seems crappy. The stars are more beautiful from gutter. Fuck I love you. I’m trying to clear my and think of what I’m going to write next but cannot. Stars … into my lovesick…

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Book Two - 1997 Shimmer through my … body Crush my mind the … dust …through the … of my thoughts.

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May 12 1997 Stars tingle into my lovesick toes Shimmer through my bleating body Crash my mind like angel dust Dancing through the shadows of my thoughts I am trapped – I have trapped myself Built an ancient, mossy, dank wall to exile myself From reality. Swimming, choking, drowning in the sour salt sea of my emotions Living with sickly snakes and selfish spiders in the treacherous jungle of my heart Pleading for mercy from my thoughts and feelings I shall die The other side is cleaner, emptier more repulsive Yet so boring that I hesitate to mention it. A dog sleeping on a mat A housewife making tea for an undevoted husband Sitting all day in front of soap operas and sitcoms Watching the world through glassy, whiskey, shallow eyes. Unappreciative, unaware of beauty, human native, himself All we need is love – nothing more. Why do so many people reject this for such material things We should not be afraid of the truth, of ourselves of the world around us The final day of a fucking good holiday. The climax of my first affair. It’s time to wake up from the dream. Clear the mist from my lovesick eyes. Face reality. …with “Mill on the Floss” and “As You Like It” Drag myself through the raging fire of Biology without getting to burnt. Motivate the mathematics in me (fucking try.) Fit in at least an hour and a half of piano and a chapter of “Sophie’s World” a day. Wake up and smell the scent of the dawn of my adult life. … my drug free existence. Enjoy myself. Don’t talk out of time. Feel the wind in my hair. Wake up early. Eat healthily. Wake before riding to school every day. Never admit defeat. Never be defeated. Never lose confidence. Act but not to impulsively. Apply myself. … my history a general … It’s the future that counts. Lose my virginity at

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Book Two - 1997 the appropriate time. Believe in myself. Believe in love. Don’t repent. Don’t connect. Protect. Don’t expect. Suggest. Don’t be frightened. Don’t be … Fear is deceptive. Don’t me unnecessarily affected. Obey my … self. Don’t react harshly. Kill the …

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Tuesday the 13 of May 1997 Is it possible to forget the passions of one’s youth. Does one lose the instinctive passions of ones youth as one grows up. What a depressing proposition. Don’t be stupid – of course passion is instinctive that goes without saying. Maybe it depends who you are. Maybe I cannot survive without one passion or another. School was mildly depressing to say the least. English as usual was a sea of wonder, highly absorptive wonder. Break was the depressing part. It highlighted, as it has always done, my inability to socialize. Either that or the people are just not worth socializing with (no doubt the later. Biology is so intensely factual) I keep on telling myself that I’ll have to cope with it. Then I drove around town for two hours. Managed by pure materialism to say all four remaining English books. Blake-Webster-Chaucer-Jane Austen. Cowboy Junkies is cool. I’m always …I must tackle …

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14 May 1997 Today is one of the most depressing days I’ve had in a long time. It’s mainly realising how utterly alone I am in the world that’s depressing. I’m sure that I miss C far more than she misses me. Sometimes I wish I was someone else, but deep inside, if I had a choice to change my both … past, I would … I would never set foot in a time machine if they existed. I will never kill myself. I shall always be contented with the present even if it involves extreme suffering or happiness. They’re as bad as each other because they both begin and end. I want to break free. Rise above this polluted world with its polluted thoughts and minds. I mustn’t dwell on any of my disabilities. I must try and overcome them. No mountain is high enough for a truly dedicated climber. My overall objective at the present is to achieve mind control. My mind is far, far, far more uncontrolled than most so this is far, far, far more difficult than for most. The higher the mountain the greater the ease one drinks it with as one does not … or reach the summit but instead puts all one’s thoughts … endeavour. “If you put your mind to it you can do anything” Don’t concern yourself with what the mass of the world thinks or you will be defeating yourself before you start. Garlic is good for you. Everyone needs people me especially. I respect my sanity more than anything else. Rachmaninoff is incredible. Sophie’s World is incredible. C is incredible. Gary Larson is incredible. Life is incredible. In S.W. (…) about oneness with existence. I’ll experience it. It’s physiological …

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19 May 1997 I feel very strongly for my … I cannot believe how the program can be so shitty as to let a … be eased – … Maths can be bugger sometimes that I really have absolutely nothing real to worry about. I always … my petty problems so enormously exaggerated. My mother really does have some good reasons for a whiskey. I must open my mind in its entirety to C with complete disregard as to what she thinks of it. What does growing up matter? Is it to be responsible? I doubt it – no one can really be responsible. My idea of growing up is to know yourself, love yourself, and not to be afraid of telling people who you are. I am extremely grateful to you for obliging me by being so very free with yourself and how you feel – letting love wash you out to sea. I do not know if this intimacy is as necessary, as essential for you as it is for me.

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23 May 1997 Dream about L. “The English Patient” and me. Bunked maths. Slept in the same bed as her which was in … at Maasdorp Ave. I think I’ll be in love with her for the rest of my life. Fucking … have given me a sore throat. I don’t usually star in movies. She is one of the most … of what … is capable of. If this does not put my mind in a nutshell and crush is I am at a loss. I was given a more than adequate insight into the mindless depressions which haunted my last year. This, her, may be as important day for me as I am sure it is for you. Let me not dwell on the past, present or future but the ever in all of them. The one who yearns to break free. Be definite with everything and everyone – no falseness, not insecurity, no …, no …, … feelings, no emotions, no fear – no fear – a circle has no end only an inside and an outside – I must be one whilst paying equal attention to both. There is no need for fear, no need for the … only are, I hope there is the fear. Gays. Indecisive. I know there is the forever with me. Sleep when you are weary, sleep when you are now … Sleep when you are weary Weep when you are near me With amorous passions wake And hear the white dove spake Of mornings new, dews silly Do embrace … sigh. Ye Old deserted palace have pity On the ruins of loves city We wash, we wash, are …of dirty minds, Rejected lies – passions devil If this is meant to be a diary I should remark that we … “Romeo + Juliet”

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26 May 1997

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29 May 1997 It is necessary to start plans for “the Liquid Centre.” What we have so far: The big question is whether to attribute characters to those in reality and make Danny Gunbit. This would go against the whole ethic of it. It has to be a … fictional masterpiece. As to a story line I’m … Will the entire epic … the lives of this brief scene. Are we dealing with a … of psychopaths, lunatics, And …? Is this a completely futile affect on my part as there are … behind this in… and the … in … Am I justified in attempting such madness when I am so. Dan did not need drugs, his ideas were of such unimaginable strength and character. Did I put a simple … of brain power into this creation? Does it mean anything? Is it meant to mean anything. Can it be based solely on insanity. Don’t think, …

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June 2 1997 Reality is melting beneath my … feet. The world’s slipping into another room for “the long dark teatime of my soul.” Things are getting better all the time. No past. Please no past. Admit it don’t dwell on it. No future either. It is murder. Now. Now only now. We cannot be helped by anyone but ourselves. Faith, love, not in some vain God smoking cigars and fucking up this … world, in the Gods which count – ourselves. That’s right. Fuck the unbelievers – they don’t even need to be fucked. If you don’t believe in yourself then you’re unfuckable you’re nobody

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June 5 1997 Dreams … shut in the shower this time very original The sea Quay of some sort. I’m a small child who gets drawn out by the intense back current. Water … for too long to … in reality. …current helps me to …over the edge. I feel safe but I don’t think I quite wake. … of others which are just the … in my memory. I’m getting more control over myself. This Buddhist shit really needs to be thought … I don’t know if I agree with ignoring worldly pleasures even though I agree with the concepts. I realise how important everything is. Tranquil Mind is a very “enlightening” volume. Meditation has suddenly become a very essential … of life for me. “The study of and practise of Buddhism are not matters of custom. We do not have to sit in a particular way or wear special clothes in a certain way. Such superficial matters are of no importance.” Desire, lust, lust, desire, want, want, want, want. Not greed. But natural desire. Not natural. Too impulsive, too repulsive, to grotesque to be natural. Chemical desire. Completely chemical. Lust for the supernatural desire to be someone. I’m not. This is not love. This is purely chemical – completely repulsive. By Why? why? why? Alcohol? Probably. … I need reality more than anything. It gives me something to stand on. Something that’s not going to turn into jellyfish and float over the edge of the world. C I love you. Drugs have nothing to do with love. I do not want to let drugs affect our relationship, but that’s up to me not you. I want you to know that I am not against you taking drugs in any way. I’m in a bit of an imbroglio. Can’t you see a … walks among you seeing through your petty lies? AND I WILL SURVIVE. Do you think I do these things for real? I do these things just so I survive. And you know I will survive. “The crowd gasps at Cocker’s masterful control of the bicycle, skilfully avoiding the dog turd next to the corner shops”

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June 7 1997 One of my more interesting days of my life. Forget about the arm. I do not think that I have gained anything from it. Acid does not let you retain a thought for longer than the time it took to think the thought. Ok. I try to hide away from myself I admit that I am possibly the most insecure human being on this planet. I want to dive, … deep into my book. Into my own imagination. I wish I could think straight. A brief overview of the day. Bad … Essential breakfast. Let the … river and … upstream and usual. Madness I’ll have to face it acid is completely …, I embarrass myself by simply thinking about it. I cannot say anything useful to my continued existence in the kindergarten playground of drugs. Was here any beauty? Fleeting comments. I will reserve my comments of D for a later stage when I am able to express myself aptly.

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10 June 1997 I feel like an ultimately privileged human being to have such wonder written “For Jona.” And how utterly fascinating of Jake to grace us with his presence. And Beethoven’s Triple – what an incredible. What amiable conditions in which to be “born again” (not religious) What exactly is so attractive about drugs, sorry, mind-altering drugs. I cannot deny the excitement of dropping for “the first time” but how juvenile, pathetic – the pink side of the room. But could I sit in one place with my eyes closed and enjoy myself more? Yes Why. Because it would be real thoughts, everlasting, indisputable, … thoughts whereas while I was tripping – fragments of enlightenment, fragments of joy, fragments of grief. But what does such a mixture mean – imbroglio. I am in no … of this playing. His birth rights are very different to my own. But he’s wonderful to be with to … Beethoven like that. But I would be at a loss with such ability as I would do anything else.

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June 11 1997 Be with the moment. Nurture its thoughts and feelings. But control, … all is essential. So much control that you can allow yourself to flow from the very depths of your existence. Flow – not like water which is forced to and earthly existence. But like wind, so powerful, so free. Freedom is attained through control. Ambition is so vastly powerful. Without ambition we have nothing for there to nothing to get and therefore nothing to love. Humans are naturally ambitious. In fact all life finds its sense in ambition. Success finds its source in ambition, trust and love. So I have finally defined success. A year ago claimed to have succeeded but such a claim was unjust to myself. So success: the loss of all inhibitions through love of all sentient beings and existence – starting with yourself. So, I feel, to achieve this I shall start by being with the moment Ant, my love, how long will you survive. Bad luck. Do not contemplate others. This is the hardest thing to do. Think about yourself. Ok. I was trying to justify what I feel by using Ant as an example. But you don’t need to justify anything if it is right.

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June 12 1997 We have no future We have no past, We simply have these eyes – These eyes that watch This mind that sees And our bodies that comprehend Nothing else I really loved “Winter” by Ruth Stone “You profile becomes the handle of a letter knife”

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Saturday 14 June 1997 I’ve just realized that yesterday was Friday 13 which is freaky if you consider the changes in my … life REMINDER COUCH T.K. … Good parts, …, I.B. …Guryana,.

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June 17 1997 I’m growing very, very superstitious about the … especially about the, 17th of June. I first attempted to give up smoking a year ago and have failed. My bag has just been stolen from the botanical gardens. Somehow I feel lost without any work to do. Without C to make me forget about everything. Can’t ever find a … with. Is this the price you pay for happiness. But happiness is so pure, indescribable and books are so material and meaningless “A little bit of tear let me down Spoil my act as a clown I’d had it made up not to make a frown But a little bit of tear let me down” BRUL IVES Except this book, because this is emotional and meaningful. How can I say books are meaningless, Beethoven, Chopin, Brahms, Schubert, Bach, Shakespeare. I am lost with them I’m not angry. Because it is fate just like death is fateful. Very interesting how C’s psychology is so linked to her body. I don’t know if it happens with me When you said you were leaving tomorrow That today was our last day I said there’d be no sorrow That I’d laugh as you walked away And now TRAINSPOTTING begins – although I feel like I’ve been trainspotting all my life You are kindly requested to eradicate all inhibitions before entering Power come from within – power. Real power.

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24 June 1997 What a … you go and do that again. You’re a … L

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16 June 1997 Vows don’t work so let’s find the problem and work things out properly. Daily diary entry will help. Just face it, this is pathetic I mean how long have you been smoking for – two and a half years and how long have you been trying to give up one year. So what’s the problem? Time to kill all the fuckers who you think are better than you. Bulldoze your way through reality. But writing this shit won’t help. Everyone needs milestones though. Your milestones shall be every time you succeed in not having a cigarette – just to begin with. Escape from reality by being part of it in every way. Being part of your own reality. Every time you think of someone else’s reality just calmly and definitively reject it. You’re feeling goddam shit because of the fucking cigarettes – remember that drugs aren’t a part of your life anymore Now don’t lose faith, don’t lose faith, don’t lose faith. Look at this man – I don’t see a smile or joy I just see … He doesn’t want to be anywhere but where he is. He doesn’t want to be anyone except himself. These are nicotine infested headaches and remember that ok ok. We’re back on track now work you fuckin c**t

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3 August 1997 O I’m so confused – torn in far more than two. What the fuck do I feel anymore? Depression? Freedom? Love? Compassion? Desire? Love? Love? I don’t even know what these mean. How far is this a precipitation of my own actions and folly? … I cannot love but with all my heart and should not I cannot say how everything will affect me and it is my fate to be torn away from it all. Let me clarify to myself where I stand C “I’m very confused. I’ve talked to a lot people about it. I feel we should buck up. Did you see me get off with Mark? … I’m too juvenile and immature to handle a relationship this long and intense. At this stage I need freedom. How could I not think about you when I got off with Mark. I just thought “fuck you Jona” “…” And then she fucking says she still loves me as I’m going … she still wants to be my friend – like her and Toby. Tell me what the fuck am I meant to think. I can sort of see it starting all over again, our relationship I can see a sort of business … with suits and ties and often sterile and depressing. But thank bullshit let’s do turns methodically shall we. Anger, spasmodic bursts here and there. You got off with Mark, partly because you’re drunk, but mostly because you needed to create a situation which would force you to change/destiny/modify our relationship for the best. How could I be angry at such a bold step. Something I probably would not be able to initiate. If I did happen to notice the scene my bones would fracture and my … would – I’m thankful I didn’t I don’t feel depressed, just highly … freedom. I felt completely free when we were together because I was free to express my love for you. Do you not understand? Love does not disappear just because you get off with someone and because you decide to break up with me. Now you ask me to be a friend. It would be torturous to be with you and to ignore my true feelings for you. Do you ask so much. Will it really resolve the situation if we did not meet at all. On the other hand if you have this freedom, this need to be flirtatious Please enlighten me as to what is so wonderful about kissing and holding people you barely know, people who

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission you have motivated attachment to whatsoever. Personally I would rather fuck a shark or feel off an elephant. O what luscious c**ts they must have (please excuse my euphemism – our morals and ideals alter drastically here) Hate. I could not hate you … up all the … in The Tube and got off with them all together I could only feel compassion for you and pity you because I think there is more to life than adolescent flirtations and am sorry I cannot share it with you. Compassion. How could I not feel compassion for you who I love so dearly and have … you … the … of my love thus disobeying your only wish – freedom. So your freedom will only be realised when my love for you ceases to affect you. As my love is indestructible may it be removed from your presence. … I need to know who then … you why are you so flirtatious. O C I am going to force myself to forget about you until we … I have reached my paradise O the birds “O full of scorpions is my mind dear C”

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Rifa I am quite contented with my prediction of the situation. The first week of my smoke free diet will be a piece of … under these conditions. And it is entirely necessary for me to be alone. This is not a holiday camp it is a form of escapism for me. It is one of the real drugs here is another real drug. Adrenaline sports. … is borderline. I can sit and stare at the view for hours and not get bored. Pure Tranquillity. I get a thrill out of playing mind games with nature I’m in a very confusing situation initiated by you fucking with my emotions and giving up smoking at the same time. I keep on mistaking the withdrawal with some sort of “I miss you” emotion. Then … I suddenly realise it is just the fuckin smokes …, C I seriously miss you. I’m also confused because I don’t know whether all this crap about being in love is true or whether I have just created a false reality so that I can feel sorry for myself by pretending that I’m in love. But whether I truly love you or not I can truly say that I miss you. You make me feel like a piece of shit. By getting off with someone other than myself … what I consider to a … part of our relationship, you give me the impression that I am a useless, boring fuck. If this is true why the fuck have you been seeing me for so long, … why?

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MONDAY I didn’t know what to think. I’ve got this far and there is no turning back. The middle of the day was fuckin strenuous especially with these hunters punting and smoking and the fuckers having a rave in the dorm. But I think I’m where I want to be right now. I disappoint myself in … over masturbation out such a physical level and would far rather communicate directly with your thoughts and emotions but you don’t want that, you want something like with Toby which is impossible because I am a very different person from Toby. How … have you been uneasy about this. I know that getting off with someone doesn’t mean anything because such incidents don’t infringe on your emotions but as you say they do confuse your emotions drastically. But you were pissed. You are not pissed all your life. You are sober for more time than you are fucked so why should you let a fucked… decision affect your life. And why don’t you mention it to me when you are sober? But we have not talked yet I know your emotions are still with me and so how can you be free 6:00 tea break. Pools. Breakfast. Slept till about 12:00 lunch. … lecture on bridge and review. 4:00 bird walk at vulture point. Supper. Lectures on elephant. Bed. So near and yet so far. All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. Each man in his time plays many parts his acts being seven ages. First the baby mewling and puking. 2 The school boy wining and crawling unwillingly to school. 3 The lover sighing like furnace and whispering bollocks to his mistress eyebrows. 4 The soldier valiant … 5 The … lawyer gut capon lined. 6 Old man in pantaloon. 7 Second childishness and mere oblivion. Rifa? Rifa? You say hello I say goodbye

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Book Two - 1997 You are such a confusing creative C

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Fried: Deep Fried Clouds-mice-sausage-ash-green-rusty-statuesque-zulu Clear as ice Whow! Pop. Did you see that? Everythings gone all bubbly. Fuck! Fuck! Wow. Fuuuuck! Colours, colours, look at all the colours. Shite this is so fun – I feel like a hephelump All pink and squishy-wishy-fishy-gishy-goaty-grotty Floaty-fizzy. Zooooooooom “Hello? Hey Where are we?” “What?.....Do you have any cigarettes?” Zoooooooom Soupy-grass-mellow-flies-book-hole-bathe-whole-black Whoossh. Whoooossh swim swimmy swammy loong. Loony fish ride side-saddle on gigantic sea horses No – sea ooses. Tuney gooses hide ridehandle on magic Why gorses. No stop it fuck off. Where am I? Zoooooom “Fuck off! Why the fuck did you hit me?” “I didn’t hit you” “You did” “Why” “Fuck off ” Zoooooom I’m buzzing through this green green field on a bluey bumble-bee. Ah it’s beautiful! There are flowers. Ooooo. The flowers are spinning going round and round and round I get sucked into one with pink and blue beetles. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Shit scared spiders creepy leapy sticky Cobwebs mud scud swimming in scud. Zoooooom “Where the fuck are my cigarettes” “Who” Talked to A about this. This is just face value – a train of thought. Acid goes fuckin’ so much deeper. Maybe you came to a place where only souls run free – where only souls

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The Duels exist and this flotsam and jetsam of the brain detracts from a real understanding of acid. Talking to it reminds me how cynical I am. But of course I’m my own hero in my own fantasy. A hero that is not discarded by anything superficial, who is not afraid to sleep in the gutter and who enjoys a good sturdy battle – to win or to loose.

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Wasting: Waiting Wake Sitting staring waiting Another hope fades out Another smoke fades in – then out Didn’t I quit? Perhaps tomorrow I try not to think about it. So what did I plan for this beautiful day? I’ll read a book. No a comic. I’ll write a book. Just a short one. I’ll run a mile. And walk the rest. Cigarette number five. Or is it six? I’ll count One two three … nine ten eleven twelve left Eight fucking smokes before 10:00am Fuck me Sitting staring waiting More coffee. The phone. “Hi” “The Vlei? Ten minutes” “I’ll be there” And I’m off to see the wizard the wizard of scud Trudge. Trudge. Contemplate. Annoyance. Anxiety. Anticipation Joy. A scud in the belly’s worth two in the hand. Two scuds forty smokes and five nosts Fuck I enjoyed that. Great day. Time to pass out Stumble home “Your eyes are red. You’ve been drinking. Blah blah blah” Fuck off. “Oh” Sleep Wake Sitting staring waiting smoking thinking shitting pissing eating drinking thinking. Doing? No. Not doing. Wasting. Acid this weekend supercool.

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A pagan dance: A romance There are stars: Not simply twinkling murmurs of light, but real stars Furious flaming sorcerers. Gleaming, wandering through the mossy myst – time Each a rapture of movement and life; Each in itself a hope, a profusion, a mastery – Set forth ever reaching, grasping consuming – unthinking Each only for itself and of itself, yet selfless For there are no others All in substance the same. This is home Not in the farthest reaches of space But in the very depths of our being Far beyond the wrecks of other minds Strewn on our shores But where space and time are lulled and vanish Where there are no secrets or lies We all long, have always yearned to be here Where peace flows in loving streams of fire – Eternity lain bare before us.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Do we all suffer equally in our own worlds? Or is there one world with multiple sufferers. But my own suffering seems somehow different. Lack of cause … I must try … – no, plot something more profound and substantial but where to start. Must it be a romance? Tragedy? Comedy? Irony? Horror? I am an … romantic. I must work on plot and dialogue We have no tomatoes we’ve never needed them before Give us tomatoes or no pass Please let us pass – we can give you kisses Urg. Tomatoes. Only tomatoes. You not pass This was truly desolate country. Olaf and Grama solemnly turned their backs on the beast and had … last sight of it behind craggy rocks. Next time they would be far better prepared. “Dang” thought Olaf kicking a stone in frustration. “Next time it would get its bloody tomatoes, next time I’ll make it the bloodiest bloody tomato before it has the chance to get off its fucking … arse”

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The Duels There are those who do not imitate Who cannot imitate But then there are those who emulate At times, to expand further the light Of an original glow Knowing that to imitate the living Is mockery And to imitate the dead Is robbery There are those Who are being complete unto themselves Whole, undaunted – source As leaves of grass, as stars, As mountains, alike, alike, alike Yet unalike Each is complete and contained And as each alike star shines Each ray of light is forever gone To leave way for a new ray And a new ray as from a fountain Complete unto itself, full, flowing So are some souls like stars And there words, works and songs Like strong, quick flashes of light From a brilliant … come. So where are your mountains to match some new? This now can rhyme the tick of time The edge of pain, the what of sane. And comprehend the good in men, the bad in men Can feel the hate of flight, the love of night And the creep of … at the speed of light The … of dawn the gone of gone The and of friend in the end of end By math of trend

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission What grip to hold what he is told How long to hold, how strong to hold How much to hold of what is told And know The yields of …, the break of … The sea of weed I’m .. to sexy that I know it, … is a hell of a poet And lots of other things And lots of other things. …

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THE (la) CYNIQUE So what was there between you and I? I hesitate to say nothing. But love! Ah that is to grand a word for our folly Longing smiles (or were they foolhardy grins?) Flitting eyelids (did we not go deeper?) I am saddened. No. I am fearful That I could be so, so utterly consumed In what? Dare I ask? The light of my life yuck yuck yuck Months deceiving myself Or were you a glimpse of perfection in a life sick to the Core? We were continually running from ourselves Lost in the others freedom Oh how we were trapped We were in a cushioned asylum in which we were pretty Nothings. Shall I live to contradict myself as massively In deceiving myself I taught you to deceive yourself Thus deceiving myself all the more You were just along for the ride Yes! But we certainly were in love Not with each other but with illusionary freedom Yet even this is not love but only lust. Then there was that age old mossy wall between Us which in blindness we couldn’t see but Continually encountered and were made afraid Afraid of what? (surely not of each other) No afraid of ourselves

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Bargain Something special – beyond reason Perhaps we know … ourselves Like world owned in soft tender eyes Nothing matters – nothing ever did or will And, yes, we could be anywhere These eyes and bodies are boundless – Or feel that way Language? Pf! No – we live in each other Not necessary. Just be breath in breath out Eyes closed. Mind still. Children of the soul If there is anything to say just say it But it is all said – said without words Cannot be said in words but in motion.

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The Duels It always happens again and again why can I not stop myself when I feel it coming on. The … flood. I will next time. There will be no next time. The more like a scarlet ribbon … in isolation as I we ... into our … oblivion. Whose? Each other’s. … others … do not stop ever. To the very edge. Ah yes. The thrill of uncertainty. Always on the edge. Just think if you were on the verge of … was to be an orgasm of a lifetime and your lover simply left yet left – got off threw on some clothes and left – as goodbye. Reason why, “hope you die” – just left before you were able to take another breath. Or in a field and a sofa drifts up bobbing gently two feet above the ground, you get on into a cricket test field. Where is the sofa in all its cross luxury where is the field you were so enjoying the butterflies and the bees. And me who am I really? Am I really me. Uncertainty. What would we do without it. That sound like True Romance. Ha ha. Eternity appears before me. I say “Hi, mind if I step inside” and he gives you a funny, uncomfortable semi–… so you grow small and hide from yourself behind walls of illusion which are neither within or without you. Anyway. Rocks, … A mine – mine? No not mine. a mine. Asbestos not aluminium. Hose my appendix/kidney/gall bladder? Who cares? I could have died doing that. If the cigarettes don’t kill you the fall will. Yes. A mine. …east, but not empty. A mine of water. The … goes over the edge and when it lands I think twice and then follow. I was never 100% about this one. Like a bad date. Or about to vomit – not 100% Ambiguity. When you cliff jump in nature there is always the thrill of uncertainty. Phew I’m home – not home. That was to close for me reverberates through my brain for hours as we thrive, drive. I hardly even see the mountains/hills – clouds, greenery. Only that one thought I try to knock it out. And .. are all develop into something better. Masturbation lost its fun before it even started. I wonder who uses the first to do it Adam? Eve? Am I the only animal. But it is not animal. Animals don’t need to masturbate they just find a bitch and fuck her no questions asked. But it is animal I mean we cannot control our hormones without major mind control. We are victims of nature. I wish I didn’t analyse so much I wish I never thought of other people. I don’t mean not love and care for others but just not be plagued by thoughts for them. Sarah. I think I like you very much. Yet how can I truly say what I feel it is so strange – unreal (who am I? why am I here?) then if I feel for you why the inhibition. You are so much better than me. Crap. Insecurities. Why should I sensor myself so. Simply building new walls after spending such effort tearing down the old ones. Borgie we have something. Freedom. The … Our snail slow steady Bach Saskia L.S.D. and always the constant fear of pregnancy. Something sensible please what is this to prove. It is only a hard copy of a train of thought. I hate masturbating. I will never masturbate – squeeze … wobble my lips – piano. Eureka

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission I line with Shakespeare Bobbing on her Yellow Submarine Mellow and lullifying tinkling Age but to die and go we know not where? Rocky Racoon, stepped into his room, only to find Gideon’s Bible. No time don’t think of time. Think not of time. Why am I so unsettled by people. Wrong. I’m unsettled by myself. Don’t always blame your surroundings. If you’re agitated it is probably inner conflict at its root. Sad eyed lady of the lowlands Not for all the fire of Venus will I move nor turn the keys sitting in this smelly skunk hole I will wait for you. Sad eye lady should I wait? When the … dolls await me. And skin is dry and tongue is … Itchy scratchy murdering terror. Mozart with his delight of buttsling … and nature with her errant stench and itchy insectoids F.J.Lobb Nothing is different tea still tastes unlike any other drink last night. Lingers in my eyes and in my throat now we each have rings which mark the … And Ceremony proven affirmation, weighty rings, a bible? Are soon lost to … memory and time I am not modest, nor proud for pride lacks compassion and modesty lacks joy. I am of that oaken timbre so solid but which … vibrate without.

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Monday What a shite day. Depression? No. Love? No. Insecurities. Well done. It’s just fuckin insane securities. Be free man be free. Why worry of others opinion of yourself. Ok. To some extent it is important. But ends the point. If thing think you’re a complete shite its – bull shite that’s what it is bullshite. L: Sorry I couldn’t resist it. I wish we could be better friends. When I open my heart it makes others feel strange. I know – just trying to be myself. Must try harder. Sarah: Hey – yes you. Come here man. Git your ass over here. Now sit down. Right you don’t have to say anything – simply listen. I’ll try and explain what’s on my mind. You, you, you. You confuse me. I think I love you. No, but was that what’s confusing me. I’m confusing myself. I want to know you better so I might get to realise how I really feel. Yuck – what crap. Should I let drugs stop us being together. I know! Eureka. Calm down Salo Kin. Be cool mutherfucker – be cool. Just flow no need to worry. Be yourself. See what happens. Don’t think about it any more. Salo Kin: what a day. Very interesting changes. A little reminiscence of nicotine addiction. Fuckin. Futile. Obviously I’m very different from a couple of months ago. The slickness with which I removed myself from that depression the certainty of my furture. Magnificent.

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CREATIVE “The stupid boy is happy – look.” He’s smiling benignly at the sunset. “Lets poke a bit of fun at him – Hey silly what are you looking at?” “Leave me alone mind your own business you ignorant bastards.” They kick him a couple of times then walk, noses up, to play on the swings while Harry lies in a ball of tears in the dust murmuring curses. The last rays of our sun catch his eye. He lifts his head gazing, mouth limp eyes wide as yellow fades to orange and rouge and he smiles and gives a little chuckle. But it is from the heart. For he is happy. Our tormentors are tired and bored. They’ve had enough of life for the day. But seeing Harry’s laughter their minds leap again into bullies boots and they rub dirt up Harry’s nose and bite his fingers and pull his hair. Then march off less than half happy with themselves. Harry does not cry – cannot cry. He cannot understand these deranged devils with their fists and their guns. He shakes his head, blank eyes, murmuring “Why, why, why” As the sun twinkles out a salty tear falls from his cheek. He is moved. He pities his tyrants. “If they could see this, if they could open their eyes. I’m interested in sunsets – what they do for us. More than we think perhaps. Or is it just me. How do sunsets affect others? For me still the pool of my soul. Like reversing the effect of throwing a pebble far into an underground lake – hearing the plop echo through a vast cavern – feeling the ripples make your body shudder: the opposite effect. That stillness that light might only find in a diamond. Yet again I ask how does it affect me? Is it a reflection of my own peace within me. Should I not be equally affected by gross ugliness as I am with this beautiful ugliness. But also less specifically (for I am getting entangled in my own skin) are there purely rational, chemical, magnetic or scientific basis for the way the setting of the sun affects us. I have experienced so many many sunsets and none were more unique that others. Interesting but futile debate What of stars.

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9 March 1998 I feel very much calmer today. But Jon and L. I must persuade myself … myself that jealousy does not exist. I am moved by their union. I must not be a … The words must flow from my heart not my mouth or my mind but the realms of love and compassion. I would be interested to know how I react to Jon compared to L. I feel so much for L what I know I could never feel for Jon. But he is a grand human being. I think perhaps we inhabit… or rather it is me who is the dud. …about a key. I do not know to avoid the matter at hand. The matter at hand is love. Expressing Soul to soul. Shit. I’ve just thought of something perhaps their coming together is utterly essential to my knowing … because I cannot What are really my goals? What do I really think of this life? Am I really the hero of the tale. I want a struggle. I want a purpose. If I live for Danny, like one.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Bob Dylan – sorry bob – Dylan Chai Tea – rossey Tai Chi Look at me – no me – Me look at me Learn to relax – old fool Sales tax – laxy scary Don’t own, nothing – bunting Deep fried stuck record Broken string gecho’d

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The Duels On the slow train time does not interfere and at the Abrabain crossing waits White Hoop, the man from the newspaper and behind him the hundred Inevitables made of solid rock and stone – the … Judge and the Clown – the doll house where Savage Rose and … live simply in their wild animal luxury in Autumn. White pages horrify me. They can get no emptier.

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Wednesday I kill myself doing this. What have I done for the last 18 years? Bullshit. These creatures … surround me float through me like ghosts of the past. As I sit engulfed in …

House of the Dead Greenish smoky-yellow Air – thin faces hollows … morosely bored Thoughts fish-rot lurid Catpiss smells surround Death vines are bored … scratch tearing Blood– clans rearing Nothing – time, hate Diminished or … Outside life dawns Here …

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The Duels Good morning sinister spiderman. What lovely eyes you’ve got. Exquisite flaming balls stalking from this venomous anthropod’s head. Still – like death, yet constantly searching, roving, revolving, penetrating. Mantis legs – but black and praying only to hell. Round black body. All black except those eyes – waiting. Attentive. This I love. Not the spider – but that which it is part of – the whole. There is only one such spider just as I have no twin; and I have my own eyes with their own power. I am the whole of which this spider is part although the spider has its own existence in which I am the fraction. I perceive that these fiery eyes exist but cannot myself look out of them. I must proceed. There are green pastures, lush and comforting. There are topless rocky giants both empowering and overpowering. There are sunsets spraying light with love and the winds of soul. There is the spider – unstoppable in the present They are nothing, mean nothing unless perceived, and only exquisite and of beauty if that is how they are perceived. I could have no true feelings – of love or hate – towards anything until I had a clear, uninfluenced perception it (everything). In young childhood this may have been uninfluenced but not yet clear. Now it is clear (or could be clear) but very influenced by everyone else’s perceptions. I am working with success, towards uninfluenced and clear perception.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission This is love: Not in the far reaches of space But in the very depths of our being Far beyond the wrecks of other minds strewn on our shores But where space and time are lulled and vanish Where there are no secrets or lies We all long, love always yearned to be here Where peace flows in loving streams of fire Eternity lain bare before us. Heaven throws up a spray of light – fine as dust: (Imperceptibly so? – all-seeing as a magnet Soft? – no you cannot touch it Sweet? – can you taste the mind) But not light for you have no eyes

126

The Duels The subtle gentle twist of an ankle Then an arm sours as a sail, wind and water behind it. The air is mapped, recording the irreversible paths Of every fine hair the … floating masses Of body welling, of legs lingering – leaping The next …the lost forgotten Only now, here is the dance of life Every hair on my skin alert Still, the future, belongs entirely to the freedom of instinct A future hidden by the deepest darkest veil of reason A freedom found when unlooked for As now finds tomorrow, blood turns to light Skin to weightless gold Feathery fine hairs float Sexless tentacles twist Statue …

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SOCRATES

Sophists – no absolute norms of right or wrong Socrates believed the opposite tried to get people to think for themselves got killed for it spoken word only: wise at discourse KNEW THAT HE KNEW NOTHING AND WAS TROUBLED BY IT

PLATO

Idea of Utopia Material world only shadow of the real world of ideas Cannot trust senses: true knowledge from reason Immortal soul in a mortal body Yearning (eros) to return to world of ideas Cave. Enlightenment … The Republic BODY SOUL VIRTUE STATE

ARISTOTLE

Interested in natural processes No innate ideas Form and substance Senses perceive our reality Categorized things Final cause 3 Types of happiness 1. Superficial pleasure, … Balance and temperance Politics

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17 January In dormitory at Heaven. I’m on a bed round a corner. Borgie and R are showering (shower coming out of roof of dormitory) I’m sitting their self-consciously anticipating showering in front of them. Emotional etc. When I eventually do I suddenly realise they must also be naked. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it before and there I am thinking what will they think of me etc. etc. R must disappear at this point because the next thing I know I’m showering with an incredibly sexy German princess. She’s behind me with her arse around me. And fuck am I feeling good. Just feeling good. For some reason I am not in the slightest bit aroused. As soon as I realise this fact everything starts going “wrong” i.e. I feel embarrassed and start to come. And of course I wake up.

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18 January Don’t know how it all begins but there I am on an enormous field at night. Maggie and Shanon are present. We’re all lying on the grass in sleeping bags. There is a physical closeness (not at all sexual) more like seething snakes slithering over one another except the snakes feel more like monkeys than snakes. We’re watching The Wall which is on this enormous screen at one end of the field. Everything is pretty dark and misty. M goes to sleep. S and I move a bit away together (I think it’s the scene where the dude’s floating in the bubbly red swimming pool) It’s a first date sort of atmosphere – I know you’re thinking what am I feeling etc. The bitch pecks a kiss a flirtatious kiss, on my cheek. It all seems to end here.

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Book Three - 1998 Sitting next to Sarah in back seat going to Nyanga/Chimanimanis. … Angus and Giles are in front. I’m suffering from my …the girl next to me I take her hand and gently drop it … and … feelings. As if all my emotion was directed at this …

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25 Feb Don’t think I enjoyed this one much. Met Borgie unexpectedly at L’s wedding (during the ceremony) we weren’t very civilized. Next thing I remember is the At***s lounge with Sarah and C. I explain to Borgie that it’s over. I’m not very eloquent but she doesn’t seem to mind too much. It feels strange being with Sarah with Borgie and C. Rather a dark atmosphere. People lying down a lot.

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Book Three - 1998 Dream ends with blood all over the walls. I loved this dream. The gore the intensity. Blood transforms funky … jelly. Two … Is one of them … This … Me … trapped in terrible life. One does… enough blood. They don’t give him enough… He goes wild because of his looming death and sprays the … of blood around the room. I have vision of this (this is just the … scene) A cottage (Paradise Pools / Granny’s Folly) All I remember is going round to the side of the cottage and getting … (I might be trying to have a piss) I go inside it’s dark. Smoky atmosphere. I think there is a matte rug on the floor. Tuli is here. In one of the bedrooms there are two people sleeping. I join them. How the fuck did this dream start?

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15 March Very clear dream. At***s. Preparing to yes we were preparing for a trip to Nyanga all rather complex trying to pack. We were going in dad’s car – six of us I think not sure could be 8. Strange feeling of anticipation during the night (thinking about it we, I felt … I felt or that half Star Trek at At***s on my own) all rather eyrie/dreamlike. Anyway I also remember taking the car for a drive during the night around Rolf Valley area. I also remember being at Nyanga and in fact preparing to go to the Chimanimanis but we never got there

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24 March Started in a strange setting of … except it was more like the dungeon of that castle in Bulawayo on Granny’s Folly. … Mom, John and Me and Dad. … talks in detail of Mt. Inyangani and the waterfalls he has actually seen. I get my vivid pictures of them Then the At***s house. Party in what should be Pam’s office. I get funckin’ trashed on sniffing … vodka then … Ian Connor is the … factor. Then I chat to Simon and Pam in the dungeon with the strange process of … going on the … are …

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13 June 1998 This is when chaos turns to order. Fear to love and freedom from all that ties me to who I am renounce who I am and become mindful of a new self … a practicing purist who loves for the joy of loving fighting for the freedom of others indeed for the freedom of all mankind and proud but true to myself. No fear my friend

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Ant and C Is it me fucking, or you? Do we love bodies or beings, brains or brawn. There is more to life than you. Who am I anyway? The stars dance the eyes twinkle Paint splash – indigo ochre and lavender Little boy laugh. Boy kiss girl. Girl cry wolf Nobody’s going to die for you, are they now? Yes I love you dearly Won’t admit it though Cum all over me let me juice you up But don’t let me catch you milking the cum The smell of frying bacon through hungover eyes “Ooo’ that tastes good!” Sexy bitch on the beach with silver sunglasses “You! Hot sand!” Green algae growing behind unwashed ears “Get out of my bed you smelly shit!” Arm in arm slowly strolling Fiery autumn leaves wash the breeze Our hearts burn, melt together We shall be forever together forever

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The Ink Group We write notes in the margin Yes, that’s right, it’s us. We blue blotch Monday’s essay (Never mentioned Slick the squid in your Fairy Tails?”)

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14 June 1998 Help I need myself Where am I … like icy steel feel so strange Another day of coffee and computers The of odd interludes of “Rising out of Chaos” And now? All I need is love Your love Who are you? Wish I knew Embarrassment of a human being Not worth the shit I live in Tongue lolls like a deaf banana. Brain jumps like a stick insect Bed looks like a messy pile of papers as the cold night gives me day-mares afraid of tomorrow – all the people and places. Today was bad and I can’t wait to die. Squished like a bran muffin in Danny’s dry mouth. Hate similes can’t smile Almost forgot Mrs. … last words to save the inevitable destruction of the amazon. Don’t laugh I’ll be ok when the sardines come and nibble my toes for warmth. Warmth is all I need. That pain that never is existed exited Exit. Don’t worry be happy Don’t crap on me I’m not a dung beetle No worse than George Or Ringo for that matter Just a lonely Soul Sucking Jerk …

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15 of June A very telling day! You learn something/most things new about yourself every day. But don’t be frightened of them. It’s you no me who’s living I’m just along for the ride Believe it or not You won’t believe it so try to Hang on to the coffee and let it Swing you into the “Ink Group” That’s right We’re all in this together Not to mention that silly little Muffin man that Oscar tried to eat He’s history And we’ve got a lot to hide So won’t you come … with me tonight Don’t be afraid to open yourself up to eternity. She bites but we’ll Kill you if you don’t And so I am subject to the … Nature of Eternal Return Though the concept is a strange one We all fight for freedom The sun isn’t yellow it’s chicken

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18 June 1998 I cry and cry Waves of the past Tempt my shores To heal these fears and sorrows Let me do what I know to be write (ha) READ LIFE THROUGH THE EYES OF ETERNITY Shivering in numbness. Heart low in stomach. Book down and Outside to piss Small frightened stars Shaking with perfection … moon hovers Half an astral biscuit Tears rush out briefly Fall on my knees Alms up, baby eyes laughing Into round room Singing with colour Warm like a womb Dancing in light Never am joking What more to say Spirit had spoken And I knew the way A vibrant energy surrounds me these last few days Don’t be afraid Your heart is but young Its tender fibres yearn for the music of youth

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The Ancient Art of Alliteration Mozart wafer vanilla ice-cream. Bolts and thunder from Beethoven Schubert … serenely Serrated Shostakovich duets then dies Bach is particularly picturesque Happy Handel’s a boating luncheon Liszt lingers without a pause Paganini professes punching pianos.

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Ginger Tea What a snot-pot And then eat it Squeeze juicy pimple Analyse results: Viscosity Texture Colour Pain Explosive or just oozes out. Down to the blood – Clean or nearest object Be it towel or t-shirt – Next one. I feel tiny hairs on back of teeth with tongue And think “when will I brush them?” Fingernails: That black stuff is probably poisonous! (Garlic, cum, sweat, ear wax, a little dirt) But I chew my nails anyway Then I fuck myself. Hormones creep up from behind The floodgates open Hand down trousers Pump pump – up down up down Pump pump Ahh. Pump Try to imagine c**ts everywhere because too Damn ashamed of myself because no reason Just plain … shit Warm, snow white, gooey

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Spurt – Deep non-organic – out breath – Spurt. I always feel a bit confused at this point. What am I doing holding a flacid penis Over a toilet-seat / rose…/stomach? And what am I meant I do with This pissy-shite? Wash hands with utter determination However kinky-repulsive you think these things Are: The games my mind plays are much worse Fun – When I’m sitting on the sofa Drinking ginger tea.

Bare feet on Dirty street Sexy blue trousers Meiotic division in Bio revision Sexy blue trousers Pride and Prejudice and Mrs. English Sexy blue trousers Boty and Grant Please don’t start Sex blue trousers

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Book Three - 1998 Island Hospice’s …clothing Buying vinyls of Liszt and Chopin Sexy blue trousers. Reason failed instinct Watson’s for fact Sexy blue trousers Such soothing hands Dolphins, spirit … Sexy blue trousers Eastlea cornish pasty Coca-cola – stomach … Sexy blue trousers June 98 Paper I Somehow managed some Sexy blue trousers O.K. Afternoon Feel us too soon Take off Sexy blue trousers

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Something June Driving with Ginger, exhaust heavy traffic Out to the hills, fresh and pristine Pay for what’s ours, nimble feet eager Away quick – away, rocks grass ... Winter heat beats, lazy legs pain Through brittle day undergrowth To hard granite and sky blue Off at a trot No arsing about

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25 June 1998 My love. We will always find each other. Some greater power defines our existence. Yet we are free to steer our own boats – Cast our own spells. As we strive to remain ignorant of each other’s lives Until even the greatest force cannot keep us apart. It is inevitable. We stumble in fear Yes we are afraid of this power Though in essence it is us. Afraid of what we cannot see – but know to be right The future holds sway mysteries and you are the greatest One day like two careless summer streams we shall meet Then there shall be no past, no fear, no time Only this light – the dazzling light of truth My love

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26 June 1998 Personality sketch Cold blooded scorpion. Mercurial tempters. Legless tortoise ejaculating. Stereotyped blue genes. Victim of self-scrutiny. Manic – paradoxical-depressive Fear – social influence – caffeine intake – adolescent imagination – testosterone release – masturbation – self-hatred – isolation – fear God help those that kill themselves! Order and chaos Light and dark.

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27 June 1998 Kimbal No I never was going to eat my hat! But it starts in the stomach – leaks out Soon reaches the eyes tears; the mind’s smile Everything warps between confusion and this new reality We are quickly moulding around each other Thoughtless, inadequate, but more real than Yesterday’s future or tomorrow’s past Is it love? Glittering beauty of midnight diamond Almond-mind candlesticks and heady vapours. Bach-Beethoven-Brahms with precise romantic fervour Never doubt that paint made the picture And whoever created paint is the real artist. Wonderful wonderful wonderful It does not matter who we are Our very existence is enough to prove the wonder Can I help? Please may I help! You are the leader after all. Death is tomorrow Do not let it oust the beauty of today I will try my best not to rationalize My melee of feelings right now.

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28 June 1998 Continued … Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. Do you appreciate it without the downs? How can you make comparisons without experience? – To know heaven without having been through hell We have all suffered. There are no scales or balances – Pain cannot be weighed Only felt – really felt – as the pain it is, And accepted – for it is as much a part of you As love. Just as death is life’s most intimate acquaintance: They dance in flowery grave yards Cry together on sad cliffs and bridges Laugh lightly through the twisted metal Of lifeless cars and broken dreams They live in untouchable harmony In the light of your fail soul. In death is the freedom of flight – Where J.L. Seagull is home with the kids. We all yearn for this blissful state. Fear? Love! Fear? Love. Fear? Love!

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Book Three - 1998 To meet someone in a quiet room And the room remains quiet To look far into another’s eyes Only to see a perfect reflection of yourself To climb into fresh-crisply made bed And find the sheets warm-homely To pee in God’s ocean freely Then let his rain quench your thirst To be a grain in the desert And enjoy a ray in the sun To let green fingers nurture herbs So the tongue may learn the kindness of nature To rest asleep upon clouds As baby knows the womb.

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29 June 1998 Fuck me with a flying fish fork if I’m not having just such a wonderful time. I’m at last waking up for the first time and sensing the pure magic that life is

A starry meeting Happy, happy fairy child – Lighter than air, I think, Will we dance or sing and laugh? Or just be you and me? Will we weather the storms together? Or each our own, separately? Two rolling stones are we And it matters only that we should not stall As we tumble down life’s rocky path – But feel each jolt as joy and bump as pain In pursuit of love’s eternal plains Where we may rest in sky and grass No fear of moss nor snow But here we meet on solid ground As wanderers finding home Who from heavy clouds go in to find a fire … And talk of many a weary trail past And pine for food and wine.

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30 June 1998 Knife to the throat – slice – spurt – choke. See …eat me – crinch – crunch . Fly off cliff like bird – fall like stone – thud death. Death my mother and father – my love Suck me up: every bit tender shaking morsel. Now! Now! Death! Death! Do it now! Do it! But no, you unkind beast, you forsake me – Leave me stranded on this knife edge without remorse Pondering sore toe and toothache – I wait … …

I like not this life! O Death massage me Rub all this vacant joy from my veins Let your rough tongue lick these lifeless years from my soul. We now sit eyeing the rage of each other’s smoking fires Enraptured I now see that life was in vain And this is where I’ve always yearned to be Here I am free of that mindless … Which provoked me as a cat taunts its prey. Here you cannot touch me – we are all fools Here I deal the cards – then burn them.

Love calls you by your name. U fuckin’ bastard. I hate U They have no … for fluffy

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Constructive and Destructive Escapism Depression (Destructive)

Lying tied into a ball, spine curled, guts twisted, mind emancipated. Lying in bed with such an acute sense of nothing that it burns. Eyeing eternity through a tiny peep hole in the wall – as a beggar window-shopping in Harrods. Your entire body screaming for a cigarette but you don’t smoke. A silence that eats into your mind as tears hesitate, roll down a cold cheek into your mouth and you taste the salt of a dried-up ocean.

Nature (Constructive)

A fierce wind licks the mountain top – chilling the skin and warming the soul. Lichen radiates colour of this age-old granite giant. It withstands the rain and wind like it were itself rock. Below is the green and brown of winter trees – dry but beautiful. Then down off rock into that wooded valley. Brush past cobwebbed bushes. Leaves crackle as we pass. There is something in the air akin to laughter? Sunlight or moonbeam dance off everything – trees hills and our own smiling faces

Death

The most effective method of destructive escapism. Its effects being permanent. … To be continued

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A grand day out Yah I had a great weekend But now I’m feeling suicidal and all You know – sometimes you just get that Itching urge to end it. Quick and simple. Killing ants with boredom on Sunday mornings – That sort of thing – like them ants – Just for kicks – something unusual, exciting I mean, why not? You only get one chance – Personally I’m fascinated Who knows? Maybe we’re all wasting our time Perhaps there’s something out there that’s Worth looking into – may as well give it a Bash. Where’s a knife? I’ll just step in front Of that car. No harm done. “All in pursuit of a funny guy called God.”

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1 June 1998 A Peace Pervades Fresh blue sky Orange and banana breakfast Sharing a cup of rooibos With Beethoven’s Eroica As last night’s dreams Surface from the deeps Interesting dreams of people Dreams of fear, hate And potent dreams of sex.

Hayley Maths at Mendis’s with Hayley, strangely. Our hands slide in and out of one another’s as children at play. My ingrained … of insecurity overrides this dream. We leave maths and go by car I think to the station and board a train. Simon is on my mind continuously. I am afraid of what he would do if he caught us fucking. I also think of Hayley and how blasé she is – like I’m just another guy that has to be fucked. I’m intensely ashamed of myself for even touching her – it’s degrading. But we are both enjoying ourselves immensely and I am incapable of controlling my hormones. We kiss deeply and passionately on the train. Then I slip off my clothes and start fucking giving it my all. I’ve ... and I cum all over the bunk. It is only then that I realise that she is standing, slowly removing a long black stocking like a tiger preparing to pounce – and, embarrassed I resign myself to the fact that I am the next victim – that the night is long from over.

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Book Three - 1998 National Geographic Hiking with some arbitrary Canadian and there we are stopped watching the view when one of the guys hands me an envelope urging me to open it. It’s a year’s free subscription to National Geographic. I’m abnormally ecstatic especially as our subscription ran out today. I find it fascinating how I dreamt so much last night or I remembered so many of my dreams. Has it got anything to do with those subliminals? I had a very disturbing dream about Jon and L. Usual bullshit – as if I pose even the slightest threat to either of them. All this just shows how many intricate insecurities I have to work through. On the other hand when I truly discover myself they may simply dissolve away leaving the peace I feel this morning.

Deep in afternoons heat Rain falls between my lips Cracked over with smiling Kicking dust into sunset Where our paths once met And we shone and loved Closer than ocean to shore On colour patterned carpet Cross-legged eyes in candlelight Our hearts kiss above flame Nothing matters never did No walls nothing hidden Clouds float swift my …tickle let and neck Robin – dove calls inside…

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2 June 1998 I sense we love each other But I do not yet understand the nature of the love. So far it has been hinted that we are soul mates And the love is spiritual It may become sexual but it is not necessary Especially as it may sever the deeper understanding Between us But fear cannot influence choice – it must be instinctive It is interesting that I have felt … insecurity (nothing significant anyway) when with you. This fact alone makes us define this as an especially important relationship It is no doubt significant from your perspective and it is good that you naturally create your own happiness – because it rubs off on those around you. Essentially there is a lot we can learn from Each other Let go – let go Be free.

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To Mary Fanciful hearty look-in Read the heart not the skin – Your bright soft heat Read the magic – It glimmers, twinkles. You lose yourself in books. Look in find the heart fire of the writer – Find yourself You lie hidden amongst those words Behind those pages

Who did you see this morn in the mirror? Was it that milk red-skinned, elf-green hazel eyed beauty? You know the truth. One day that window will shelter You might find a golden pea Of you may find an ocean.

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3 June 1998 Double Espresso Teeth lock Blood erectile Bones shake Mind trembles Jitter bitter Black tar Chatter people Café sphere Stiff neck Hard sky Empty day Nico tide boiled liver Gangrene lung Light jazz Bizz buzz Dead awake Owning up … tree … fate Eating rake Looking back little late … shake Head revolves Ants crawl Cars sprawl Crow hawks

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Book Three - 1998 Hand shakes Buildings age Children gape Sip blip rip.

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School Indecision – couldn’t bring myself to go to biology. Do English homework instead but I couldn’t even read the passage. Constant fear of Mr. Lerivers gets the better of me and I go outside only to be “discovered” and dragged into Mr. Leriver’s office. Then I find myself sitting groping with fate over bio papers. Next english presents me with Pride and Prejudice test during which I write “Crossroads?” (Toby gave me these really amazing stripy white trousers) I buy Mrs. English beef and tomato and Angus picks me up. Granny and Grandad come around for briefcase but get tea instead. They bring me my past – a past that is no longer me. Then I go to Avondale after lunch buy book then I.B. for double espresso and another. Then Mrs. English joins me (must … her …room) Then Maggie and her cards. And I leave behind many fears, many fears. I breath fresh fresh air. Home for quick supper then to Tony Wolfe’s for a real experience. A new matrix is set in motion and energy abounds energy which will last a lifetime. Tien to Steve’s and all debts are settled with Sarah. Energy energy. No zipo. Ant. JL, Angus. Yes Angus decides we shall be friends. It is a forever type of friendship which we share.

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4 June 1998 Dear-soul Kimbal I truly believe that I love you. I have come to this conclusion just as much a result of reason as of intuition. Consider that I am an eighteen-year-old male with all the testosterone involved and that a part of my nature – a very physical part – yearns to be fucked. In respect to this fact I have concluded that my love for you is of a far more intimate nature than simple sexual attraction. In fact I hesitate to so specifically define it as love as it is more a spiritual understanding that I feel I have no idea what direction I wish our relationship to take but I know whatever happens it will be the right path. I give this love freely without any hope of return. I believe in free choice and self-love/universal

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5 June Birds are meant to fly – We all have wings Though some are afraid to acknowledge this fact There is no limit to how high we can fly

Look to this day for it is life The very life of life In its course life all the realities of you existence The bliss of growth The splendour of beauty The glory of action For yesterday is but a vision and tomorrow only a dream But today well lived makes every yesterday A dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope Therefore, look well to this day Such is the salutation of the dawn.

Where are we going? None can tell What pain will tomorrow bring? Only

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10 June 1998 Digging into love with deep claws. Swim those pools of crystal brown. Art: lots of colour runs veins. And me, dear cat, where are we? Lost somewhere in strange chocolate Cake or green cherry on top – hot! Love, where not even the happy players Could create game, make rules. Heads roll off to sleep when words Fade into a bluey moonlight night. As fires burn and bells laugh In this land where cottages explode And that hard marble of mansions Crumbles beneath our soft bare feet. We have the power to rip these Symbols, clothes, false worlds-words-looks, Throw out our sun and watch While pure light dances back Caressing … eyelids closed-peaceful. Sing, my love, sing with this tired-eyed New morning. Drink dew, eat sunlight for this Coffeehouse breakfast of souls without walls.

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Book Three - 1998 Don’t think accept

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Tuesday 1998 O full of scorpions is my mind, dear … You are as soft … to frozen nostrils. No one has loved me as you do – it is overwhelming in itself. I am as confused as you are but I know I love you; and this fresh summer’s alpine morning which we find in each other must not distort our true colours, in fact I would that we are becoming clearer to the bone every second we are together. Fear-away-go are not real – you plague me like a thousand snails eating this blossom Yes we must not lose ourselves – we are so important. We must each be a catalyst in the other’s growth.

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Wednesday 1998 Ecstatic, Exquisite Sitting, clear-brained, beneath msasa while chicks peck-peck and breeze rustle leaves Going out to the mountains is returning home, a home which we have been away from for millennia. It is returning to ourselves. These dry grasses brush by. Crisp hazy sky … in-out these granite majesties. A slow river thinks only of the sunbathed pebbles it passes, not of any of tomorrow’s oceans. This pure-crystal silence is a reflection of ourselves: not who we think we are, for we are distorted superficial creatures, but our truth – that moony sapphire ore fiery ruby buried in the cut-off corners of our soul. It is a reflection of that beauty. That is why we go to these mountains – to find sweat on our back and … in our minds yet whatever we think or feel we experience ourselves and it is homesickness. that pulls, tugs us away from a cosy bed, a funny T.V. or a raging city back to nature.

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Friday You laugh more in a day than I do in a year Bullshit I don’t know why I love you (Do I love you?) No one has ever loved me as you do: No one has ever allowed me to be who I really am as you do For this alone I am your For this alone I love you But do I love your playful essence? Or is my love simply selfish addiction Why do I feel no emotion Why is there only this absolute peace How could I say “I do not love you” even if it is the truth? You love me therefore I am yours I am a virgin … to be fucked I would forsake my dick for your heart I write them maddening … because I’m fighting for the truth I cannot define my feelings Nor could I live the rest of my life as a pretender You are very important to me you make me sing You confuse the fuck out of me you are my greatest teacher

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Book Three - 1998 I sometimes feel inadequate for you Do you feel free with yourself I am tied in knots. The universe in the palm of my hand World Peace My self Happiness is a warm gun Absolute self-control Plant flower in poles … Freedom

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The “Coffee won’t kill me” Page “A” for English – 3 hours study every day at least I have written work. Rock Climbing Horse riding Digeridoo Guitar Jazz improvisation Tai Chi Meditation – half and hour morning and evening Massage Reflexology Photography Cooking Gardening Creative writing Improve reading speed Improve … Dream journal Chimanimani trip … cloth Actually improve all relationships Self discovery Long term I need the chance to clear the sun to shine the need to be free Clear skin Energy Direction

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21 July The Madness of being human Day to day In hope Month to month In hunger Tongue to tongue in soft delight Heart to heart In smouldering coals Eye to eye In searching screams Day to day in future I should record some facts but it’s It’s all too much Basically its over I don’t think there was a choice I had to tell the truth Necessary Destiny. Cool dream the other night of snakes and alligators. And deep sea swimming I was ultimately truthful to my own feelings despite these sordid results. Thank fuck I cannot change the past or I would fall back into her eyes and arms with ease without thought or feeling Kimbal you spectacle of laughter You do not hide the flowers … These last weeks have been a shotgun marriage of two souls, then a reaching apart of two

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22 July 1998 Stubbornness “How this shadow developed in Jonathan’s life from childhood” Out of necessity. But why? There must have been anger – there was anger which was not expressed. Anger at not being heard. Anger at myself for being so fuckin’ fearful and misunderstanding my “prisoners,” anger at life for dealing such shitty cards: no one to listen no reasons to be heard. This all resulted in this silence. Silent stubbornness. I had to be heard somehow. I hated being fearful and insecure. It completely blocked my creativity and imagination. At nursery school I refused to change my clothes for a month – until someone said the big “so what.” So I was shoved down and ignored as a human being – or that’s how it felt at least. I was just so fuckin’ alone. I was screaming inside for an ion of love and attention. Then when I did get attention I would refuse to admit to anyone that I needed it – refused to admit to myself. The occasional spurts of joy were soon drowned in spurts of mad fear. It was true stubbornness. If I put my mind to it nothing could change it. This scene on the banks of the Zambezi always comes to mind. Me running with a slopin-hand maniac Dad chasing me catches me thrashes me – for god knows what. But he is forgiven. “How it limits Jonathan’s aliveness today” It is easy for me to build walls in any traumatic situation – be it physical or mental. Walls against reason. One reason is out the window a void is created in my mind which is filled with this angry resentful static blurry noise: depression. Depression is basically the old stubbornness. Refusal to face the actual problem: which is always internal, not external. A problem of attitude and perspective. It makes me a hollow Zombie. It masks my beautiful innocence and real happiness. For I now truly believe that happiness is my reality and has always been. In pleading depressed I am simply … happiness to solitary confinement because it does not conform to the state of helplessness. This stubbornness is limiting because the stubbornness is like a lock on the cell confining my creative spirit.

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Friday 24 July 1998 Dear Kimbal, I have missed you dearly. I love you. I just cannot help saying that so there must be some truth in it. But I still feel that we made the right decision – I do not think it was mine – it was a mutual decision. I feel no guilt, or I… down any that I do feel. Every minute we spent together was beautiful. You continuously saw the good in me and I have struggled to hold onto that: still it is returning with every word I write. Remember … which you met the … that sparkling happy soul. That is what I am finding again. Am I a bastard those days that we spent together? I do not think so – I truly believed that I was in love. But my sexual desires are dangerously persuasive. Thank you for your love and understanding especially your love. When I sit … and my heart aches to be with you I remember that you love me and that I should be throwing myself at life instead of sitting in her lounger. Thank you. Thank you. I really want to be your friend. But I understand if it is too painful. You knew it would end didn’t you? You wanted it to end. It was too much, too quickly. I was comfortable, conceited, “couldn’t help it” confused. Really confused. Then you said “why do you love me?” and our relationship changed. I had to go deep then I had too. And from then on it was just a matter of time before it ended. It couldn’t be said immediately – it would have fucked up the … course for both of us. We both needed that. Do you really love me or is it addiction I feel more peaceful now, after that talk with Danny and that … I have decided to sleep with the door open – energy flows more easily. I slept a lot lately. I saw a snake today. I’m not afraid. Aids (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome) won’t change who I am or how I think. I will simply use it as a self-development tool. Fear is created by a society which I am not actually a part of Dog curled on carpet Scorpion … Alpha F+T … of mind –reading

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Book Three - 1998 ache Meditation.

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Sat 25 July 1998 Emu on one wooden leg Hazy-gazes across belching mass of sun pink chewing-gum; As perplexed as she is distracted By missing egg yolk, Smiling fir-frog Anti-terrorist and on holiday In short Everything Inspirational golden mist descends On Big Birds long-lost-cousin. Peg Legs Her radiant black-eyelashes flute-flatter Pogo stick hop hop Feathers ruffle with excitement as beak chatters “Gironzo! Gironzo! I’ve got it! And paddles gracefully into the clouds – There’s no time to waste Braving snowy storm and sizzling sun Our fearless feathered friend sails higher And higher! Through the clouds and the stars.

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Tuesday 28 July 1998 Impatience Probably resulted from deprivation. Angus’s dominance throughout childhood. “You can’t do that” Being picked up late from school really pissed me off. I still get easily impatient with my mother. I hated school – the waiting was torture. Far too much time to get tangled in my own web. By being dominated by Angus I was forced to live in his time frame which probably often conflicted with my own. This impatience now causes me a lot of stress over nothing. I get impatient with my own lack of achievement. Reading speed. I need to overcome my frustration and live in the present rather than worrying about furure/past. Always active other people’s quickness instead of developing my own abilities. This is probably why I am a caffeine addict. It forces one to jitter. Although one is relaxed even when it makes one’s body impatient like you have a metal rod up your ass. But also one has a nothing-matters-anymore trainset attitude which blocks clear thought processes. Yes. Beethoven. It must be.

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1 August I no longer have any regret I might have been a better friend. We might all have been better friends. Better mothers and fathers. Better brothers and sisters. But we only see through these eyes we had different eyes yesterday. You did not you do not want us to feel guilty to regret a past which we cannot change. I feel closer to you now than I ever did. You live in me. You are far, far more than a memory. You guide me. You were a teacher.

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2 or 3rd of August its actually the 4th And I feel contented strangely peaceful brain wired enough of the people … friends who see differently I’m glad to be alone now with music Suzanne Vega incense patchouli with candle were could spell “scattering like – light” A new sign to greet a new age SIGNALS NOT WORKING at the end of my yesterday Monday of Pride and Prejudice Half-disturbing mimicking curious twilight dreams Someone calls the mountains for me Am I free? getting closer free … despite an aching liver the … tea will clean it

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6 August 1998 I am fascinated by how steady my emotions are now that incessant fearful chatter of my mind has so little effect on my constitution. The last few days have been calm and collected. Reading Pride and Prejudice. Chesa ridge with morning with Brian. Dinner with Geraldene last night. What does my future hold? It will fall neatly into place. Let me sleep peacefully tonight. My thoughts never stray from you Kimbal – I miss you dearly. But we have learnt so much from each other that it can only be good. It is a funny thought that I shall be in the mountains next week so unexpected. I look forward to … with that beautiful creature … In these days there is no hiding. Nor can we fool ourselves long. Nor is it necessary to flatter. … is there my real reason to be sad and lonely.

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Sat 22 August 1998 Something in the air today. Something light yet intensely heavy. Something about to happen but will it. There is a craving inside of me. Caffeine distracts me as those naughty hormones eat my wall. Nothing could break the silence ever if it tried. Even then it would melt not shatter. A softness curls its gentle tongue through watery hair imagined. Everything jumps out trying to startle me, nothing succeeds – all those papers remain mundane – dead. The teapot and peacocks think it should be Sunday not Saturday “Maybe if it were Sunday” they plot “we could dance naked in the domesticity of life without all those wooden people pouring us of going out our 1000 ages” It’s like GOD put all the clocks forward two seconds and made reality very slightly more pink: you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking out for it. The long dark teatime is nigh – don’t fly my love don’t fly. We think of mountains as mere rock – they are creatures which tempt one as the Pied Piper is a magnet to innocence.

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Book Four - 1999-2000s

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Wednesday 1 Jan 1999 The one who vowed to remain unmarried has said his vows of union. And happily so! Sown seeds of the future’s oldest trees. The souls’ deepest fruits, show but a glimmer and embrace life’s juices with luscious bites. Seldom gripes poke here and nibble there but none have appetite enough to overcome this joy Release the ties I renounce the lies That mould a mask Of a face that is worn Blooded sheets are torn Candle – forever Matches – crack Love bites Free.

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22/2/99 Carona is an episode from antiquity with the wisdom of many ages. A hermit by trade his body appears gaunt and frail though it has the stamina of a mountain goat – all weather. He is this or more accurately lean, and he is short. Old and Chinese, bearded and deep, “Carona speaks to me.” And so he speaks. You live in the turbulence of an everchanging world and need to be adaptable. Control of the mind is of the essence. Contact that stillness within from which all things are created and forth flows your reality not as it is, but how you would want it to be. I am here to hear you and to suggest doorways and passages which you may choose to take. Your lesson is love. Learn it and the abundance housed within you shall flow, like a thousand rivers of light flow within. Do not seek recognition rather accept that you are as you are asked love yourself my beauty. ILLUSIONS Never lose sight of illusions They are real to all of us In some way or form. Who is the joker, who the liar Are they One? Or are they the other.

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Book Four - 1999-2000s We see the shit but not the shine We hear the howl never a hum And feel the heat – of what the heart? We look for a key instead of the doorway We laugh at somebody and laugh with nobody When we break the … the water burns us. When we kill the rats we poison ourselves When the fish bites we go “ouch” When the wind blows we turn up our nose We sing because we need to be heard

Eat money … Fuck with … Snort whisky … … Just for kicks …

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I love you I see you standing on my shore Delicate feet leave their mark on my sands You gaze knowingly, wryly over my waves of dawn As each step print is rendered forgotten with splash and retreat The sprinkle of sunlight that I am Beckons and fickle a fancy you find only In the transient bubbles of colour … a boa through stability Answers once hungered for have … and gone Learning only new pondering in my stark emptiness But yes come, … at my home You will find the its sweetest juices inside you Do you see that whale in my ocean? You are mistaken once again an illusion It is an endolphin frolicking in your veins Yet illusions are not vain – they teach you to trust And I? Yes I on … The wind that sweeps you off your feet I am the laughter in your …, the magician of your … I love you from the bottom of your heart am I singing For you are me as I am you

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Book Four - 1999-2000s

19/10/99 HAVE SOME PITY? ANY PITIES. PLEASE. If they don’t come easily don’t worry – - don’t worry to bother It doesn’t really matter anyway. Draw the curtains past a happy morning to wake up to too, if you have the energy. FUCK YOU MANIC let the steam out I know your boiling Froth and let the sun shine through It wants to. Rays of spun are pappy to see you. There never was any meaning in swaying this way and that I’ve hit the nail on the head THAT HURT (HAVE SOME PITY) Whichever path you take It’ll kill you in the end. the end A rounded bend.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Emu an one wooden leg Looks quizzy across bubbling mass of See prick chewing-gum As perplexed (pyrexed) as she is distracted By, a missing egg, a Smiling fir-frog, an Anti-terrorist and on holiday In short – everything. “Jalgalique” postulates our fearless feathered Professor in the face of certainty Death and others And like a swan in fishing season she wings gracefully up – up – Off in search of the soft hearted Corporate liquorice wood Beaked off – she stayed – gayed Pink turned grey – dreams truly Faded I sense into reality daintily

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Book Four - 1999-2000s Tonight we fell thrashing in love Like into bucket of passion And splashed our world In clouds of fury (furious fantasies) Could we touch, taste – until now Could we smell, hear – or sing The past was shrouded in numbness And now the night is just born Would writhe like the ocean.

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Love calls you by your name Bright we fall in love Like into buckets of passion And splashed our world With new colours and fantasies Could we touch, taste until now? The past is shrouded in numbness Could we smell, hear or sing? And now the night is only born No stone was left unturned If we were bears our fur Would ripple as the ocean A silk scarf in the wind Our eyes are closed now To everything but each other Together shall we splash … on this soft bed Of canvas – vast canvases Again could they ever be filled? As they were this stormy clawing With such luxuriant flesh?

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Book Four - 1999-2000s The throws of enlightenment They are not predictable. They creep like your shadow And pounce like your fear The … from filth to faith I was so innocent then I yearn to be there But then all I could do was despair Life was never far. I was much afraid Yet such an idealist – where has that gone: I was so rich with hopes and dreams But so poorly then in a love crushed heart Then I was a child, no more Yet they said. I was “grown up now” then It’s about time they … up themselves I was hurt now I see only be myself There never was a mirror … Two …

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission There are stars: Turn in, slow dance – let go Lax, switch of the outside. (“Wait! No entry! Danger! Toxic waste!”) Only see this oily slick ocean of shit There’s more, must be, prophets speak of it Silence – then you are not deaf – death But alive.

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They know not what they do Don’t laugh at me I am the enemy you forgot you ever had AMEN forever remembered charged to … The deformation of the deadened language Let go for nothing ever did exist Hold on and mark the changes.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Am I alone in this? Or are there others? that remain tormented It’s like this: Those things there are, that reside in the very fore front of the mind. As the wind to a wave so thee to it crest. Yet of this crest there is a part that I would like to draw your attention. It is this Those things that will never reach fruition – ideas, dreams, hopes – that will never materialize. And for the better and this is the harsh irony. For there could be the most desirous an … of hopes But: If they were allowed (this word important, for I have complete control over the lack of materialization of these desires) – if – it would so disrupt my current reality that the stormy seas of Cape Horn would shrivel in comparison. Though I am fully conscious of them they are firmly planted behind a door in my mind that says “DON’T GO THERE” and every single day I am fully CONSCIOUS of “NOT GOING THERE” This is the torment So: You may well be curious of what these things are: remember the door “DON’T GO THERE”

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Book Four - 1999-2000s 5 Unruthless mouse like scorching timid … where to … carefree of another realm unfased

K This is cut I have to

A field of dreams all laid about with couch potatoes and men. Strong willed fighters that know not that their life is crashing around them

A Falcon heart junkie on life a heart laid bare voice eyes R Unfazed who are you I am I of the real …

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Book Four - 1999-2000s I lose myself in love with you So self-conscious, trying to be better than I am … What for, the … of ... together. But what a dream that will never be? A tadpole is not lost – Instead it knows the very … It fears the depths of the …

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Tangled, entangled, tactile, randy, hell-of-a sun stroke, clocked infinity and beat it into dust drawn hell scam, railed, pained, did such fun. It’s such fun. Mellow waters. Craving. Misgiving. Giving. If not evil what then. And where for know place to hide. Know this is a perfect place to hide. What from? And who for. Glacial tempers. Trade-offs. Add-ins. And could, would fore ever be in their space. Raging, virulent. Take it or leave it. Nothing. Changed. Kept sane. Blanked. Blankets out. For reality. Not here. Never would I allow it. For bloated. Candidly selfish. Shellfish. Shelfish. Where another me could not find that. Tit for tat. Tatters. Don’t flatter. When one. Then another. And what was the point. And it feels sharp. More chilling. Clenched, venomous? Perhaps. All this only to find freedom is the enemy. Don’t speak to me of [railed] (… recurrent surges lip bitter tempers hiding? From whom, it. Tangled, en-tangled Trade-offs. Add-ins Once more the … feeling – surges) I will not … [impasse] (misgivings, … not here, Nothing Changed. Selfishly Shelfed. Blank Blanked out, … everything More …) Never would I allow it And could, would love Ever be in this space? Perhaps (misshapes) All this only to find freedom is the enemy.

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Book Four - 1999-2000s Intuitive thinking. Thought behind the thought. Clutter out of the mind. Standing pool. Listen for the silence. … Opening the heart is a prerequisite for your evolution. You will not get on until you open your heart and allow the love to heal. Yes we say required. Use the flower exercise until you have a beginning point that you know it is right. Know yourself. What does love feel like to you. Go back through your life and identify times that you have felt love. Describe it. Describe your mind. Describe your body. We are not saying when someone else has loved you. We are talking of times when you have felt love for someone/thing.

An outpouring. Flaming with desire. I am utterly in love with you. You are a candle in my window. Now that you have not rejected me. I am able to be calmer. The umbrella lighten of being. Do not. No … Have me. Love love love Acceptance. Beauty. Connectedness. Knowing. Full realisation of the who am I of another. And myself.

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Why are you unable to evol-ve without opening the heart? It is impossible. Everything is love Getting in touch with reality. Grounding FRESHLY GROUND Run-around. Beat up. …

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Oct 05 Words spill out like flowers My fear is unknowable. It is an awful dread of failure, embarrassment and humiliation. A kind of social failure, of not being good enough. I seek and anticipate reproach and being looked down upon in the faces of everyone I meet – except the few I know. And then it is at the opposite extreme, arrogance, aloofness. My world is barren of depth and meaning. My life is without deep and meaningful communion communication. To commune – to share. Not deliver or receive but commune. The meaning of communication is the response.

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The End THE END of “The Book” – Redacted “…and they all lived happily ever after”

The End

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Afterword

Afterword

Sunday, December 24 2023 [ten to seven in the evening] Big Tree Harare Time America [for C and Langley and good night’s sleep] Let it be known C was my first kiss and Geraldene was my first real sexual encounter – little else matters in a young man’s life. LOL and btw 21st Century Got your brains now Washington? I’m now an (almost) 44 year old “Sekuru” Africa. Priorities are different. F**k [redacted] me if this wasn’t impossible to write. As David used to say “the power of the pussy” And as T.S. leads by example – be a proud cat owner (unless you have allergies and are therefore politely excused) Where to now C? Redacted C.I.A. My many dreams and wishes for what is actually an uncertain life and future on planet earth David Attenborough A published author, poet, writer, blogger, micro-blogger, journalist, playwright and general all round post-apocalyptic egghead who can’t spell. … so get on with the story? Not an easy one… Not easy to condense into a page let alone a book of less than two hundred pages! Have we got as far as the emoji wars Taylor Swift? Lowercase battles with that? If we total the score, I think I’ve safely won the WAR. Rhythm and rhyme. A cup of thyme tea and lavender under your pillow.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission Let this page be for all who suffer from terminal insecurity and shyness. It’s not easy to hide behind a microphone let alone printed text.

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Afterword

The D.M.Thomas Method leave easter eggs here there and everywhere lowercase without blowing my trumpet yet again… [the eternal ellipsis] REDACTED The inspiration came to me as I was reading The White Hotel – specifically the Don Giovanni chapter. It’s a very useful literary method/tool/trick. But almost impossible to “get it right.” This volume is my humble attempt to do so. The four books that form the backbone of this Magnum Opus of mine are exactly equivalent to D.M. Thomas’ Don Giovanni. Of course you would have to read The White Hotel to discover what the fuck that really means. Excuse my French.

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Christmas Day 2023 – Rainy Days and Mondays – Jesus C****t [redacted] We pray for rain, better years to come, and peace in these troubled times. For all the commas and question marks – edited out, redacted or just plain forgotten. A note on Privacy, sex, family, and the pleases and THANK YOUs that were left unsaid Today’s been an uphill struggle but I’ve risen to the occasion. And so,,, we meet at this unusual juncture in (virtual???) REALITY… Thanks first and foremost to C and to L – we wouldn’t be here without your kind words and gentle kisses – and at times giving me the boot when I really needed it!!! Simply put there’s a lot of water under the bridge and I’m no longer the innocent kid that I was. And we have Washington and the C.I.A. to thank for your names being redacted in this document (book or diary?) as it reaches across an abyss of time to the present moment here in the “uncharted backwaters of Africa.” Merry Christmas all (and especially for those who choose other faiths or lack thereof – a prayer for you all wherever you may be) and a thought to our common human destiny. Thanks especially for the privacy to write this book Christ the Redeemer, towering high over Rio – my comrade in arms – and as Portuguese as Mozambique or Angola. The short read for today’s kids looking for a compassionate voice and some plainly spoken advice in life’s impossible but unavoidable task of growing up: The Sexual Life of Catherine M. – Catherine Millet Eleven Minutes – Paulo Coelho First Love, Last Rites – Ian McEwan C for The C.I.A., Carolina and Cambridge L for Langley, London and Los Angeles Period period period dot dot dot full stop

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Afterword Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless the bed that I lie on – never to be repeated and not in front of the children. **** redacted My Gift to you. As of this writing I haven’t had a relationship since 2008. Thank f**k for that. But I’ve reached a stage where I’m philosophical about the matter. Read the small print before you sign on the dotted line ladies and gents. My favourite quote from the Bard of Avon: “to be or not to be, that is the question…” And dear Master of Ceremonies what does our mutual future hold Charles Dickens. Grand expectations no doubt. And so on the next chapter and the next book dear reader. The battle’s over but the war has just begun. May we never see another ellipsis in our short sorry lives.

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P.S.T.S. Lowercase:The freedom to say “cunt” An island of hope and brave new world. The freedom to type (and write!) – A small step for man and a giant leap for mankind. The difference between an apocalypse and a Utopia for planet earth and humanity. “cunt: A Declaration of Independence is a 1998 feminist book by Inga Muscio” – the dawn of the Google Search “Thirty years after The Female Eunuch galvanized the women’s liberation movement, Germaine Greer launches a fiery sequel assessing the state of womanhood and proclaiming that the time has come to get angry again…” – there’s Google again DON’T excuse my FRENCH. small letters kids. The Good Lord’s watching! We’ve now “cum” full circle – I am the beginning and the end Genesis. “What Dreams May Come” – a movie starring Robin Williams. Don’t be TOO rude kids and to be or not to be continued Google.

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Afterword Boxing Day hasn’t happened yet. And I wasn’t born yesterday. UNDERLINED. THE END of the C.I.A. Mission and a steep debrief Langley (lie detector test Mr. President? – lowercase…)

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Postscript and Stop Press

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Boxing Day 2023 [at 9am after breakfast] Mind your own business (MYOB) and any other business (AOB)…? We’ve now “eaten” as may dates in these short 44 years as there are stars in the night sky. And this book needs a good ending 2024! “A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel. O wise young judge, how I do honor thee!” – The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare I woke up in the middle of the night and only got back to sleep at first light. So I’m still a tad dozy after Weetbix and a coffee – one of two coffees I have before lunch. That’s Weetbix when you can get it and coffee when you deserve a cup. So forgive me if this train is pulling out of the station slowly dear reader. Big Tree Harare Time (BTHT): Life at a snail’s pace. Master’s Degree in Psychology? I enjoyed the joke thanks. It did take a while for the penny to drop Dr. Phil. Anyway where are we Back To The Future for the 500th time? Honey I shrunk the kids – they deserved it. Where are we in time that is Star Trek? Where are we in time 1990s and the 21st century? 1.

It’s almost 2 years since the War in Ukraine started

2.

The birth and rise of Artificial Intelligence (A.I.) – and the long predicted A.I. Wars – have only added to our collective confusion in 2023. Our plight doesn’t look hopeful humanity. There’s Google again.

3.

It’s coming on three months since the Israel-Hamas conflict began – know your Hamas from your hummus chicks and chickpeas.

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Postscript and Stop Press AOB The streets of London are paved with gold Your Majesty. C and A.I. C.I.A.? – the inevitable tongue twister and the never-ending story of Man’s many failings. I think we’ve watched enough T.V. to cater for a whale Tuvalu… – (and Tennessee Virginia Langley?) The archetypal Box. Marine Couch Potatoes Pacific Storm Cigarettes? Right up to date B.B.C. and C.N.N. But back to the story dear reader…

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission [10:05am] I just couldn’t make the fundamental choice that every man has to make. I’ve had no children (that I am aware of! – surprise me ladies.) The inevitable French Letter – and inevitable failure thereof – between a hippo and a dip in the pool. Thanks, in hindsight, ladies. Sincerely Jona. What the future holds none of us know. But to speak plainly I miss my favourite toy. And given my good record with the Doctor thus far I could re-enter the game of life in the not-too-distant future. Takes teamwork and as my late father uses to say “It takes two to tango.” He was Dickensian my Old Man was – in the most admirable sense – a lost piece of the Victorian Era. Chip off the old block? – no doubt I picked up a few tips Pip and Co.. Oliver tongue-twisters. Easter eggs Taylor Swift. Breakfast at Tiffany’s? – I cook a Full English. Geraldene was my Miss Havisham and Estella all rolled into one nightmare of a rollercoaster ride. And stepping back onto the platform at the end of it I feel exhausted just thinking about it. She took me with her to the grave.

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Postscript and Stop Press [10:28am] My second coffee is filtering though as we speak. However I’m suffering from gut ache and am a little constipated – happens to the best of us. Christmas was spent at home (which means, for the most part) NASA at Big Tree Harare. Homestead, if you’ve forgotten. Maybe revise the Notes chapter at the beginning of the book that eventually led by highways and byways to this page in the story. Take a leaf out of my book valued reader – C, L, JL and “the Agency” – first review and an essential note dramatis personae. I’ve just made my bed (which happens most days) and it makes a real difference to the energy here at NASA in my bedroom-office. I have a shower but not a bath – and it’s a majorly dysfunctional shower at that. Either no hot or no cold – rarely the happy mixture of both that most folks have come to expect from the average modern facility. On the upside it is solar-powered. Which leads us to talking about an important related matter – electricity.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission [1:48pm] Electricity. But first. My stomach eventually settled and my tummy ache dissipated. A lunch of chilli baked beans on bread and a walk to the shops did the trick. But I’m yet to have a bowel movement today. All the gory details that I’m sure you could do without. Feeling a tad tired but well. It’s overcast and we’re expecting a bit of rain however it doesn’t seem forthcoming. I think it really is a drought year – sadly. Especially for those who rely on a good drenching to harvest their corn (what is called “mealies” here or simply maize.) Got a Dragon energy drink at the shops and stocked up on the week’s ciggies. Again too much information? So electricity? It became such a popular subject of conversation – just as the weather is in England – that people were known to name their pets after it. ZESA (or Zesa as it’s casually known) Zim’s attempt to keep us all running. Without dwelling on the rather boring and painful subject let me simply say this: a candle is useful and so is a headtorch – a complete understatement actually. They are absolutely essential. As a direct result I’ve grown to quite enjoy candlelight in the evenings. And it’s become a sort of sport dodging snakes and spiders in the dark here at NASA. Time for a smokebreak. Going to join me?

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Postscript and Stop Press [2:33pm] Who’ll come Waltzing Matilda with me Roald Dahl? And the many mildly-insane one-liners I had as a kid. Had a Chelsea cigarette and a ten-minute lie-down and switched the beat over to The Great Violin Concertos for much needed time off top-of-the-pops and the Grammys. The Grammys are due sometime soon – February? Mendelssohn-Bruch-Brahms-Beethoven and Tchaikovsky – try me on Sibelius and Elgar for a neat variation on a theme. Like the back of my hand JL and Toby. As we speak I’ve shifted gears to Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto – which I know less well. If you haven’t noticed by now the Afterword and Postscript chapters of this “mirror-ball” hall of mirrors diary, book, volume, document etc. are NOT referenced in the Notes chapter at the beginning. This is intentional (but was actually just lucky – a simple twist of fate so to speak.) However, it is intended to give the C.I.A. or “Agency” some agency or “sights” for this golden bullet at this book’s concussion. I’m currently debating a second Notes chapter after this Postscript. To round off the circle and ring the changes. It has after all been a quarter-of-a-century “hiatus” since I penned the four books that comprise the meat in this literary C.I.A. Mission aka “sandwich.” “N.B.” or please note well C. Kindly, I shall not repeat myself dearest angel. They simply gave me loaves and fishes and told me to share. And so I did. Another Chelsea cigarette Miss Clinton? Enough of the full stops aka periods, commas and question marks St. Mark. High rhetoric South of the Equator.

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REDACTED: A C.I.A. Mission [3:24pm] It’s not dark yet but it’s getting there Washington – short for Washington D.C., and specifically POTUS and the institution of the US Government – and to which most folks benignly refer to as “The White House” …FYI Chelsea Clinton, Miss Mississippi… Bob Dylan REDACTED btw Potus. Clinton, Bush Jr., Obama, Trump, Biden – 2024 here we come. The Rhodesian Bush War Mr. President – lost but not forgotten. I definitely needed a cigarette to say that! Bidenomics. Trump Card. Question Langley? I can be plainly spoken if I want to be sir. We used to play bridge as a family (Mom excluded and excused all these years later) growing up in Zim. We also played bridge at school hey Danny? North South East and West sir. Tell you a good secret good readers: I’ve listened to every single episode of “The Langley Files – A C.I.A. Podcast” since it launched a year or so back. “Mischief ” the Fantastic Mr. Fox BTW Mr. President. Start with Roald Dahl kids – The B.F.G…big friendly gun. Don’t get TOO trigger-happy Washington. Customer feedback C.I.A.

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Postscript and Stop Press [3:52pm] Duty. Commitment. Mission. Accomplished…C.I.A. Takes brain power. And a happy balance of sanity and insanity. Signing off Langley Avenue, Harare. Via the US Embassy to Zimbabwe aka Zim. Don’t get the short end of the stick my dear reader. Adieu Speak-a-little-French (MY A.I. Co-pilot) Page 194. The final page, Larry Page and A Page of One’s Own Day by Virginia Woolf. NASA: My room. I’m a baby of the night sky L P.S. Best wishes U.S. of A. Jonathan…[REDACTED] [4:00pm]

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Notes Two

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Notes Two – A Final Note. Music and Lyrics

Blank Space (Taylor’s Version) – Taylor Swift “28002 words.”

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Notes Two

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