the jaguar inside me wants to burst out, he's pacing up and down, he's oozing karmic sexuality, looking for his dion fortuna, looking for the scarlet woman, looking for the feminine principle and the goddess, he's chowing down some weird breakfast solids with some one he can't quite connect with, all repulsion drives operate within this person as she sets out to diminish but old captain mission just feels her void, it's an old dance and it's predictable, old captain mission wanders the streets alone now, finding his way home to his trusty hound pan, whose soul is remarkably similar to his. such loyalty is a rare thing.
left to his own devices captain mission constructs some new ideas for songs, he reads a new book 'version 43' by philip palmer, really good stuff, he reads a little peter carroll and organises his personas in a nice little democracy, he amalgamates them into one and likes what he finds. a new ego. it's aspecty is comfortable, enough edge to make him interesting and tomorrow i will take it for a test drive, playing and flirting, engaging in the many faces of the goddess, yes old captain mission feels young again.