Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Nineteen

i am listening to a pirate tv/radio beamed from anton a newcombe into my study and music room where i can sense a new sense of inspiration about to pop like a cork, as wine bottles used to - it comes from the mind and is fuelled by the soul - i just opened the window - the rain and wind and the cars slicing the roads as they speed around to all those different places they go to - i haven;t heard it all, and despite seeing a few things in my day, i don't know where to find everything - i am the war of the worlds - i am world war three am - i write like the sound of rain - the coincidences never quit following me around everyday - 12 hours into a world war - what a coincidence that was - a series of human activity ending in the death of millions and millions of people

lady-l reminds her friends that her life isn't perfect and we both know that and do our own thing and don't blame each other for that, and encourage it - we both know when the time is right - we're in synch and i have to tell you about saturday as i woke up early in the morning and put on my sunglasses listening to a song called invisible by the church and walked to the shops and bought some vegies for salad rolls and made sure the champagne was in the fridge and so we made these massive salad rolls and took the champagne and rug down to the lake and drunk it and ate our lunch in the shade of an anonymous tree - the sun was out with some clouds morphing and the air was cool and we ate with hungry taste buds and drank our fizz will foggy eyes as our relaxation hung heavier and heavier as the day carried on - we laughed about explosions sung in the distance - just like in that strange story i wrote and sent you - i spoke about how certain things make me feel psychedelic, and she is beginning to understand - and as i see it i see it as something pretty amazing - i push for it in the people around me, but rarely does it eventuate - later that afternoon we lounge at home, and i opened the doors and windows and played the dirty three's ocean songs on repeat and drank some beers and watched the clouds continue to morph through the thick vines of our courtyard - lady-l read and from time to time i heard her turn the pages - it's amazing how her views have changed naturally with my life in the background (as hers is in mine) - however, i cannot simply thank the ocean songs for this mental lock which was one massive cycle and as hours passed the cycle become something of a force, both of us careful not to damage - an hours worth of self-spiritual realisation in one side glance from my psychedelic eyes as i sat outside in the court-yard - she was reading about icelandic people living in Iceland

there is this ability among plenty of people – by no means is this simon lawlor and the realisation and lady-elle exclusive - but it’s all too often dumbed down or dismissed – coincidences simply brushed aside as nothing more than coincidences, and there is no such thing and nothing could be further from the universal, and sole truth – coincidences are the gods telling us that we’re on the right track, we’re on our true path towards our own chaotic lives –not that everything is going according to any sort of plan, but more so that we’re doing alright, no matter what it is we’re doing, or how fucked up we’re feeling

oh no, oh no, oh no – thats the sound of the realisation – fuck yes, too – now I look forward to putting on my great big jacket that I took to Iceland and Greenland and wore in the snow and rain and volcanic ash, and wore in northcote while cooking and reading and writing for the three years I lived without heating – im now going to take and wear that great big warm jacket in the bush out east near your old home town where lady-elle’s grandfather built a house with his own hands and with no one else’s – doesn’t that sound too good to be true?

im going to walk around in the rain and trees in my big jacket and smell the air and the birds always come out when it’s raining and – last night I said “we should just bring a shit-load of food” and I can see us eating a feast as the sun sets early due to the terrible weather and rain – I’ll bring some beers and listen to scott walker – and maybe I’ll pack some champagne as well – and I’ll be a good person and a nice person and considerate

the bird seed I bought was cheap – the bird feeder I use was built with scraps of plastic and wire that the previous owner had left littered behind the feral plant-bushes – I hung it on the clothesline next to my dirty old jeans, so i could see it from the kitchen window while cleaning my pots and plates – one day I hope to see some colourful parrots or rosellas, but for now im happy with the happy pigeons