Notes from kojak asa400

At approximately 7am today I was contacted in a dream by the wife of James Long. She was wanting information on his disappearance. I gave no information, as I have none.

Later, on the way to the day job today, I saw a fine example of the Droitwich Fix – sweet lady waiting in the post office with glimmering silver and green purse – I comment on it, and she shows me – it’s made with old drinks can ringpulls, threaded together with green twine. I have a belt made of ringpulls too, she says. Heavy duty stiching technique – utilising second-generational-usage scrap metal to create a chainmail-style ‘fabric’. Very effective. I have become aware through theorising of an opposite principle to the Droitwich Fix. I found its name yesterday but it has slipped from my mind. More information on this when it returns.

Nb. Once on a visit to the outer rim isles (North Uist, from which St Kilda can be seen hazily out in the void, and then on to South Uist), I became aware of the ancient hand symbol supposedly of Jesus. On the catholic southern island, a stone statue of the mother and child shows the infant raising said salute: First and index finger raised, other fingers down – identical to the peace sign but with fingers together rather than apart. Yesterday I discovered the reason for this hand signal. Jesus had given up waiting on a bus, set off on foot, and was waving to passing vehicles while still holding his busfare in his hand…

For myself, the bus caught up with me some time later, and left me at desired beach location, along with two young campers, without charging me the fare.

I now recall part of the name of the anti-Droitwich Fix. It is the [something] itch. I suppose it may include the throwing away of something still of use. It is also the making and pushing of something with no actual use, its intended use being a mere charade. This would be a tactic well used by the Minnesota marketing people. It is a classic technique in the development of money generation and population-regimentation/control through the mid-20th century: must-have products, with a swift decline in any notion of what the product actually does. Often the product will do something, but not what they tell you it does. A classic result of the meeting between the marketers and the early obfuscationists…

Relocation

Prolongued radio silence leads me to believe that our agents in rural yorks and (recently) Boston have entered a new realm of investigative depth. Perhaps the net is drawing in. Perhaps they are drawing the net in. A dragnet an ocean wide, for the big fish. I must reveal that last night, I aided the hurried removal from a city squat of my and another agent’s stuff. We left the place with the filth of years of decay – strange rusting gas pipes that light up like some oil refinery display. Cupboards with broken hinges, full of green and brown stubby bottles of cheap lager, some still half full from strange forgotten nights. On leaving, this was all visible at the surface, after several days (or has it been months?) of it being hidden by our temporary presence – Orange throes (or throws? – a query for Kingsbury PI to answer) and purple wall hangings were pulled up from damp furniture to make haversacks for swift transport of file notes; audiocassettes; dictaphones; emergency garlic cloves.

From 2am or whatever hour it was, I slept on the carpet – the damp from accumulating winters of discontent made the sofas and mattresses an unattractive prospect. A sudden and bright start at dawn. Vehicle pulls up at the door, and away. Key hidden in usual place for future users of this facility, future victims of this squalor. The driver is alert; ready; a true getaway man. A safe pair of hands. I close my eyes and sleep the early morning away. Wake on a B-road from dreaming of a cat scraping at my windows. Or was it the other way round? Did I wake to a cat scraping the window from dreaming of a B-road. I may never know…

He's Not Here

Keep working the dream angles, or curves; who knows where they will lead us. As Palindrome used to say to me, 'I do some of my best work in my sleep'. I anticipate reviewing your linear fingerprint-based evidence and hope to discern something of use from it.

I have spent my last few hours vainly searching for further leads in Boston but turned up nothing so am heading back to my hometown office to assess the timeline of the case. I get the feeling Boston was once a hotbed of activity, but is no longer such; though it is definitely somewhere along the path to/from current activity hotspots. There are people in this town who know things, but nobody is prepared to tell me anything explicitly.

Back at my hotel this afternoon, I went for one last swim before heading to the airport (from where I am writing this missive). Returning to the changing area after a few lengths of the pool I discovered a handwritten note in my locker which simply reads "He's Not Here. Time to Move On" signed by 'The Boston Rat'. I can only assume that the 'he' referred to is Searly and that the Boston Rat is one of the tech guys who knows more than he let on initially.

I am taking this as friendly advice rather than some kind of threat or warning. Most likely he wasn't prepared to admit his knowledge in front of his co-workers. There is no point in pursuing information from a man who does not want to be known - I feel if I tried to work him out and talk to him alone, he still would not be forthcoming, so for now I am heading home to reassess the case, review my notes and produce a timeline of the case in hope of gaining further understanding of this whole circus.

Dream Arcs

2 recent developments/thoughts...

1: last night, after travelling through the inner ring-road routes of Edinburgh, I became embroiled in a close-up battle in a small warehouse building. I along with 2 others took on the shapeshifting morphing government agent type beings. The fight went our way eventually, after some moans of fear audible to the none-dreaming. The episode involved particular use within the battle of angling projectiles/energies along curved arcing boomerang-like flow lines. These same lines I had earlier constructed atop of a map of the US, as an alternative transport network for road trips and as representations of curvy ley-line-like energy routes. The image will be copied to you shortly. Its whorling fingerprint shapes are convincing. The use of similar line-forms in the battle struck me as meaningful.

2: You had asked about the source of ‘needle and the tailoring done’. I do not recall much about how I got it. Your estimated timescale etc I feel is accurate. From the vocals I feel it to be by a UK-based singer. I do remember, however, the third verse of ‘needle and damage done’ contains a reference to a girl in a red dress [baby wears red and I think of home, baby wears blue and I know she’s gone, baby where’s the keys I need to get me some]. I wonder if this is a reference to the dual nature of Costa/Cortez the songwriter – the wolf in sheepswool, the yin and the yang combined, the red and the blue on the same person. However would she write these lines about herself, or someone else write them about her?

Urge For Going

I failed to locate Sad Sack last night while traipsing Whitby charity shops in the rain, however, in the shelves and boxes of a cramped sidestreet bric-a-brac shop, I did find a secondhand CD box set sampler of material from Joni Mitchell’s 4 ‘missing’ early albums, including the album ‘bisonine and …[?]’ containing the song ‘Urge for Going’. This was a really important find. I had heard ‘urge for going’ once, several years ago on radio Scotland. The song does exist outside of dreamland. I have often tried to locate it, but now know why I have failed – it is from one of 4 missing early albums, dating from the days of live performances in Greenwich Village coffee shops in the early sixties. I believe the song was one of the first to make Joni her name on the NY coffeeshop scene. The radio Scotland playing of it indicates that a genuine recorded version does exist in the mainstream. The presence of 4 whole albums of such early material is as the Grail itself to this early-Joni-ite. Albeit if they exist only in dreamland. I must channel the material somehow.

I feel that in reference to our current quest the finding of the teaser box set from Joni’s lost albums in the dream represents missing soft core road trip mixtapes being discovered. At The Haberdasher’s Request may be about to resurface.

Nb. In the dream I didn’t purchase the CD set (priced I think at £39.99). The knowledge that somewhere the 4 albums exist is for now enough. I will hold out for the vinyl of the full 4 albums, and will expect Lake Tahoe needlework references on them.

Saint Kilda

My feeling is that ‘Melody Nelson’ and at least some others from the soft core are still out there, in hiding from some, but active and at large. It is a coincidence (or rather, perhaps it is no coincidence) that one of the other parties we have traced as being at large since 2005 is Melinda Packett / Melissa Parrish. I don’t know what to make of the Melody / Melanie / Melinda Doll – perhaps many members of the group are at large using these common aliases. Perhaps not. I would agree with your supposition that the cargo cult is once again active. I have a feeling that Sad Sack, the European stranger I guessed to be Belgian, is a dream spirit named Serge Brel, or possibly Jaques Gainsbourg, who has got in touch with me to aid his own longstanding search for Melody. I had previously suspected Sad Sack of being female, but either I was wrong, am wrong, or else Sad Sack is multi-gender or gender-changing. Or perhaps the spirit of Serge/Jacques takes the form of his image of Melody.

My French is better in dreams than in waking life, so I shall quiz him/her further soon. Last night I became lost in an area of forestry commission pine plantation as darkness fell. I found a network of bumpy tracks used by forestry vehicles and followed. Eventually I came out to a visitor’s centre building where some kind of seminar was in progress. I believe semiologically this was Kielder Forest – or Kilda, by its northern spelling – the visitor’s centre was the mysterious lodge in the enclave of St. Kilda. I may return there tonight.

Hologram

Right. Yes. That’s the kind of thing. So – the theory is, that the eyes are actually still able to see such random texture patterns when shut, and that we identify shapes within them, which are our actual dream images. The natural progression from this theory is that our actual waking perceptions, of objects in an apparent 3D world, could similarly be our mind identifying shapes and image in a much much wider array of texture and pattern, which our eyes actually see, but which we select from. Hence two ways of seeing – change the focus and you can see the florescent fibres of the hologram… This whole world as perceived is one of many ways of viewing a selection of the whole of what sense data we actually receive.

Potentially Unrelated

Since a mental spring clean through action of whisky and strawberry milk while on investigations, cobwebs have been cleared out allowing fresh neural pathways to develop in absence of staid old brain routeways. On the return journey bus I developed a technique of mirroring the formation of vivid, real, dream images by the mind finding and tracking real patterns on the diffuse random textured patterns of the retina/back of eyelid. Staring at a random pattern, one can either let the mind find whatever faces or figures or object images it will, in the patterns, or one can seek something in particular, at whatever level of detail you want, eg. find the shape of an angry face, find the shape of a bear, find a guy with his arm in the air, find some monster…

I was doing this by staring at the back of a bus seat (usual random textured plush fabric pattern not unlike the patterns you see with your eyes shut). My feeling is that in sleep, the brain does this very same thing and finds the real actual images within the image seen with the eyes shut. (This being first thought likely by my previously waking up and noticing the lingering dream object having an actual location on the field of vision seen with shut eyes.) In order to find moving images, one needs to search much harder in the patterns/textures of the field of view seen with shut eyes, to find frame by frame images of objects in various stages of movement.

This, I assume, is the entire explanation for rapid eye movement – the eye is flitting about fast because one is searching for images with which to construct real time dream vision.I don’t know how this relates to the case…

The Dreamer

The following piece of new age hokum comes direct from the spare parts collective, a group of unknown membership (possibly only one person with many aliases).

The tripartite ontology is as follows: the dream, the dreamer and the dreamt. The dream refers to the wholeness of experience; the dreamer is the consciousness witnessing this experience; the dreamt (or dreamee) is the consciousness created by the dreamer. One can influence the dream, but so long as one is within the subject matter of other dreaming consciousness, one is also being dreamt. In other words, it is harder to retain free will over the ones dreaming, if one is simultaneously the subject of other dreamers. One will find it harder to perform great feats if one is being witnessed by others who, by virtue of their beliefs about the nature of the dream, do not wish you success or believe you can succeed. They will try to shape the world in one way, while you try to shape it the other. Thus arises conflict. The universe as we see it is the sum total of the conflicts and harmonies of all consciousness and will.

A further result of this theory: Consciousness can create consciousness. Conjure up a being, and the being can conjure back… Unless, there are a whole host of false beings (unconscious but with the appearance of consciousness).

Is this the false eidolon?