If you want something done right...

...you know.

Confessions of an irreverant maverick billionaire playboy expat philanthropist social actor, Part I.

Grayson the Hack,

On the Road, day 4370,

120,000 miles later.

Salalah, Oman.

 

"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, sed dulcius pro patria vivere, et dulcissimum pro patria bibere. Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae."

"It is sweet and dignified to die for the homeland, but it is sweeter to live for the homeland, and the sweetest to drink for it. Therefore, let us drink to the health of the homeland..."  Damn right. Now I just need to figure out how to say 'from abroad' in latin.

The Low Down.

LIFE IS HELL, and there's a start.

LIFE IS HELL, and there's an end.

Crawling back to paradise again.

There's nothing and everything for me here.

It's like Seoul 2003 all over again.

Alcoholic Kiwi roommate in the next room half moaning, half screaming “SHEEEBELLLLL”, the Korean equivalent of “FUUUUUUUUUUCK” as he suffers through the morning hangovers – but that was more like 2001 – I'm getting ahead of meself. The old Blake quote about how heaven and hell are places in the mind are old hat now, along with many other psychological survival mechanisms that've brought me this far through Heaven, Hell, and high water – and so much more. As a microcosmic holon, and a projection of my own consciousness on this plane, I wonder to what extent my subjective reality has influenced the big picture, and vice versa. Everything is connected, and the world is on the brink. Typical. The cycle has revolved as always. The beauty of infinity unwinding into coils of synergistic entropy.

So much for contingencies.

 

I won't apologize for length in this or the coming posts – it's been a year – and in that year – total freaking chaos and several near-death-experiences– so if the following CNF (creative non-fiction) yarns don't move you, shake you, make you think or feel - go take a nap or pound some strong black coffee and flick your switch back to 'human'. Maybe throw on some loud 70's AC/DC or heavy Type-O-Negative. Barry Manilow. Bob Marley. Neil Diamond. Black Sabbath. Get in the mood.   Dowhatchyagottado!!!

I'm in the nasty habit of not writing for a year, then saying too much. Forgive me reader if I do so now. “There's no government anymore, only corporations and whores” - not the kind of thing you want to be posting in FB. No worries, no-one in the know gives a fuck about anything anymore anyway (anyhow, anywhere). I'll just shut my sweet, sweet mouth and live in FEAR like everyone else. Nothing like immigration police asking you inconvenient questions when you're trying to get back into your own country. It's not like I'm trying to smuggle in Chinese supplied Kalashnikovs out of Oman (-out of Yemen - see 'Battle of Mirbat').  Just a few switchblades perhaps, for those late nights downtown when you never know what might be around the next corner as you stagger out of an alley, half cut on overpriced Canadian whiskey in downtown Vancouver. Or was that never knowing what might stagger out of the alley coming at you - other end of the blade – desperate times – how far do they push before you pull the trigger? Climb down in the trenches with the rest of the poor and take stock of your arsenal. Does it take the death of a close family member?  I hate being right. Naaaa - I LOVE being right, almost as much as I love anal cavity searches.  Sphinkter dilations. Butt-plugs.  The profits of DOOM. <<<Type-O-Negative!!>>> I'm just a good, honest, patriotic peace loving Canadian like yourself sir. “We ain't going home got nowhere to go!!”

Story of my expat life.

 

The new ride.  Totally stoked to have come upon a bobber chopped in Dubai, rode in the U.A.E., and finally brutalized by an adolescent 30 year old in Oman.  2 days of mechanic work during Eid Alhada and still couldn't ride it South to Salalah.  Top speed, 80km/h - yeah - this bike needs work.  Now to attempt shipping the bike and ordering parts impossible to procure here and make her purr like a kittycat, meeeooowww, 

I'm so effin' stoked... 

The New Future.

My future self has been speaking to me in dreams.  Things are going to get a little weird here in the Kosmic Nexus.  Maybe a little dark.  Fukushima could potentially explode and kill us all next month, slow death by global irradiation, and it's time I told a few stories about last year in Saudi Arabia, among other things.  Aliens are among us apparently, and the gig is up.  No-one has anything to lose anymore in these mad times, rich or poor - no matter of relativity or trillion dollar bank accounts will save anyone now - the ship is going down and captains of industry are going to have to swim like everyone else - the butterfly effect is a rhino in a china shop!!  So I have a few tales to tell before it all goes up in flames (mysterious deus ex machina lifts us out in the nick of time).  I'm also looking to monetize the blog a wee bit, but will keep it to a minimum.  My own trillion dollar bank account has been looking a bit thin lately, so looking to see if writing can do anything to alleviate that - being a killer guitar player isn't doing it for me these days, and I've come to another place where 'music is haram' - illegal even.  If I'm still drawing breath at the end of 2013, and these constant miracles of love and life persist, maybe I'll manage to somehow break even for once, 'Inshallah'.  Or, perhaps if you're looking for a singer/songwriter/guitarist for a touring rock band, I'll quit my EFL gig and relocate immediately.  Why not?   I should have the capacity to record again after an upcoming trip to Bahrain.  If you've read this far and find yourself at all amused, stay tuned for more in the coming days...deranged lyrics, tales of debauchery and astral travel(?!!), a book review (or two), language humor, travel tips for Asia and the middle east - pictures of places that have never and will never again hear AC/DC's 'You Shook me All Night Long'...etc.

A lot more...

Find your inner peace,

Breathe deep,

Contract, 

Expand,

Infinity.

-Grayson.

 Sunset swimming in Salalah, Oman - gorgeous.

Dodgey Pirate wonder, ships aground on desert isles in Bahrain

Salaam and good morrow.
Took me a few minutes to open this window as I had to search random tabs written in flowing Arabic script at the top of the page to find the blogger 'dashboard'.  I'm sitting at a desk looking out through a filthy fifteenth floor window at the bay of Bahrain on the edge of Manama center with the bay to the right.  It's 7:30 am and feels like mid-morning.  I think the jetlag was actually helped by having a crap 4 hour sleep in Vancouver before I left on the 26 hour jaunt that brought me in here last night.  So far Bahrain has been basically hospitable.  It looks dodgey as hell to my trained (well-traveled) eyes however and I hope everything remains copacetic - and I'm sitting in Jeff's (Orton - my American contact and friend) appartment this evening sipping something cool and having a laugh.  It's hot and muggy out there - around 30 celcius in the early morning - my hotel room is air conditioned and comfortable.  Checkout time is noon - not sure when the sleepy whiskered character who took my passport last night will return with my Visa...sometime between 10am and 4pm I remember hearing.  Thayne the American from New York came in 3 hours after me and seemed more jetlagged than I was.  He seems alright.  Shit.  Just noticed there's a derelict old wooden ship on a traffic island of white sand, dead grass, and scraggly palm trees with the freeway right next to it.  Culture shock hasn't begun to set in and I'm off to Saudi today where things are even weirder.  I woke at 5am to peer out my window and saw many men gathered around the back of a truck hauling sides of beef off and throwing them on carts to be wheeled away - this was a big truck - like a semi- a cargo truck - that's a lotta corpses.  Reminded me that in some places in the world, life is cheap.  The morning dead.  'Bringoutchyadead'!!  The 5am morning death-count.  Deaths head.  Mortal combat  in the markets for bovine flesh.  Savage reality of mortal sustenance.  It's all fruits and veggies down there right now from the look of it - this hotel is across from a derelict shopping mall that has a bustling market right next door.  Half the city looks dead - the other half bustling along - the freeway is a constant vein of vehicles - there's a Mosque visible across the way and palm trees everywhere.  Funny how the Mosque looks like a walled compound, pseudo-military.  My first impression is that Bahrain is like Pusan - 'Texas Street' on a citywide level.  Dodgey as hell and potentially fun.  Rasheed, my (Indian) driver last night said things have been cool here, especially since Ramadan began - but Jan-March were dangerous - there have been troubles here that recently and armed conflict in the streets.  Shit.  Just noticed another traffic island with another washed up old wooden ship and 3 'yurt' looking buildings nestled in a sandy freeway roundabout.  I'm running on bad (instant) hotel coffee and a granola bar I brought with me 16000 km last night/morning/whatever...
Did a few sun salutations around 7-ish before coffee - stretching and yoga are a good idea when in this state.  I'm short on hard cash but my credit is humongous.  Long as I can cover Visa processing I'll be fine.  Saw the waxing 3/4 moon setting over a humongous Boeing 777 jet engine intake as we banked right into Doha, Qatar, and as we leveled out the sunrise in the same cleft between engine and wing.  A hazy blazing orange disk in a glorious pink soup on the horizon.  Shaved.  Packed up tight.  Still healing a little fresh ink and a cooking burn on the left arm.  4 channels of shit to choose from on the hotel tv.  Thank goodness for a hardline to the net - convenient.  I hope all goes well with this job!!  Teaching first year Saudi University students (through McGill and the Saudi royal council) is an exciting prospect for me.  I hear the city streets in Bahrain where the royals hang out are a bit 'crazy'.  I think they can get away with anything - money talks and bullshit walks I suppose.....except that the 21st century monetary system is the new bullshit.  Nice one.  Reconcile that if you can.  Waves of consciousness rolling over my mind regarding where I am right now.  System low on power - gotta plug in soon - 220 volt here fortunately and I have a Korean adapter that fits perfectly.  Publish while I can and back later from Saudi...
Cheers.
A salaam aleikoum,
Peace descend upon us all,
Inshallah,
God willing,
-Grayson.

CLOUDSURFER3000

I've been busy.
Try something new?
HOW ABOUT SUMMA THIS?
Maybe I'll write something new here...eventually...
When I'm not writing elsewhere or reading the Bourdaine and Murakami titles I just picked up.  Satch Boogie.  Lords of Karma.  Live Chemical Bros. sets. Schweet. 
-J.

BUFFALO ROAMS THE GOLF COURSE!!

Lone Buffalo Roams the Golf Course...

..A day in the life...or...life in a day...As you like it... 

The lone Buffalo wandered in the snow.  He grazed on tufts of grass sticking up at the edges of trees.  He rubbed his head against the hairy bark of a pine and grogged a throaty "AAARRRRRHHHHHH".  He blew hot air through his nostrils and watched the steam issue forth in great luminescent sparkling tendrils.  Reaching into the fur behind his shoulder, he produced the horn of the golden Yak.  He blew some notes, and called for the FLOCKER to come forth from out of his legendary sleeping place beneath the snow.  Great blasts he blew.  But there was no response.  The Flocker was sleeping.  Trundling forth across the tundra of the Balfour Golf Course, he called upon the Great Spirit to lend strength to his call.  The horn of the golden yak grew in size until it was a mighty multivalved trumpet worthy of summoning the mighty Flocker from out of his Winter slumber.  The Buffalo blew many notes, but when he ceased, all remained quiet.  There was no sign of the Flocker.  A great Zen Breeze had shifted his presence Eastward for a time, and his essence was not to be found.  The Buffalo had quaffed the last of the Navy, Screech, Morgan, Beast, humdrum, Polar, Zacapa Rum, and was on to headier stuff - Boba Fett Existentialism - Transrational Evolution - Turkey Drippinz!!  "For courage mounteth with occasion", and it is the dawn of a new year - a new age of subjective co-creation of all realities - a chance to rebuild on the shoals of quiescent noetic quiddity all that dominates the infinite spheres of manifest quanitifiable existence!!  The mighty Buffalo called out in gladness a great life affirming blast of strength and light for the coming of a new time of life.  He giggled, burbled, and schplat with impatience.  The horn of the golden Yak announced his excited contentment, as Earth and Sky rejoiced in the incessant multiplication of the inexhaustible One and unification of the indefinitely Many - Exploding Genesis within/without the entropy of a paradoxical matrix.  Such are the beginnings and endings of worlds and of individual beings:expanded from a point without position or dimensions and now without any date or duration, Eternity in a grain of sand, infinity in motion among the flakes of snow drifting down from hope laden skies:

"He who through vast immensity can pierce,

See worlds on worlds compose one universe,

Observe how system into system runs,

What other planets circle other suns,

What vary'd being peoples every star,

May tell why Heaven has made us as we are.

But of this frame, the bearing and the ties,

The strong connections, nice dependencies,

Gradations just, has thy pervading soul

Look'd thro?

(-A.Pope)...

Cheers and Happy New Year to All,

- PEACE and LOVE in 2011 -

- and ALWAYS -

-Grayson.

GRAYSONTHEHACK!!

Wordpress is HERE.
You are there.
Tat tvam Asi.
 You is what you is.
 And there's an end.
Peace be with you!!
Jason.
(aka.Grayson the Hack).   

APERSPECTIVE RESONANCE IMAGING - WITCHHOUSE

"Bow down before the one you serve, you're going to get what you deserve..."-TR.
It's one thing to wake up shipwrecked on an isolated subtropical island.  It's another thing entirely to unexpectedly find yourself surrounded by pirates and ninjas swinging nunchuks, swords, lasers, guitars, beer cans and bottles of Rum in your gen'ral direction.  AAAAARRRRHHHHHHHH!!!  So it was one day, as I was walking down a country lane in the wilderness of my subtropical paradise, I came upon a hut in the wilds.  A screaming cacophany arose from within.  Horrified and fascinated, I felt mind and body compelled to explore the limits of fear and wonder inside.  An excited, wary psychosomatic zombie shuffle to the door, with catlike human timidity, and I was suddenly enveloped...  The chaos was unspeakable.  The synthesizers were a sonic maelstrom.  The drums were beating primitive unfathomable jungle rhythms.  The bass was explosively bombastic.  A shrieking hurricane blew through my mind, and I felt the power of nature harnessed and amplified through a technological psychic transducer.  Next thing I knew I was holding a guitar.  It came out of nowhere, a Les Paul Studio with the face of an old friend.  The spirits of ancient beings surrounded us as a humongous presence swept over the hut.  I was strapped into the humming ethereal electricity of a 6-stringed axe and unable to do anything but bring down the plectrum on the strings as my hand seemed to move of its own accord.  As the spirits began to channel through my body, I began to lose control.  Golden light flared out of my eyes, ears, mouth, nostrils, fingertips, and my corporeal self began to lift off the floor and sway in time to the rhythm.  The other players became quadrangles, fractals, geometrical impossibilities in shades of multicolored neon evanescence.  Somewhere back in the physical space of the room, a primitive form of 21st century Earth recording device captured shades of the moment.  Within about twenty minutes (outside of time) it had passed.  Back in full control of mind and body, I stumbled out into the light of a beautiful Summers day, laughing wildly.  I had become one of them - something else - changed by the spirits, spurred on by a comfortingly quintessential paradox of indescribable freedom and discipline - POWER - =) and oblivion.  As known and spoken of in all times (past, present, and future) by those who have laid down their egos at the feet of their Lord for transient moments of divine intuition, "All is bliss, All is bliss".  I collapsed on the grass, looking up at the sun through the leaves of a Chinese parasol tree and let go, drifting up into the afternoon sky.  Through the clouds, through blue powder, through cold black space beyond.
It's good to be Home...