Wow. A good day. Really. Sarcasm not.

Wow. A good day. Really. Seriously even.

Feel good. Well, I lie a little, my stomach is crap. Whatever I put in it comes out again about two hours later. You can set your stop watch by it. Is quite annoying. Have got used to eating small things like one pie or one sandwich. And doing it again a few hours later. No good for waistline or energy levels really. But okay. Kind of. Am a bit worried about the possibilities of long term cancer down there. Amongst other ailments that can come from living with stress for one too many years. But hey, I got addicted to drugs in the first place because I knew I could give up whenever I wanted. I knew everyone else was wrong and that it would be easy to give up whenever I felt like it. True story bro.

http://matthewbuckley.net/2013/07/15/is-someone-listening-to-the-mentally-ill/

So, why was today good Mr NZFiend?

Well, glad you ask Jimmy, you ain’t been around recently have you mate?

So what you pathetic tosser? Still going to fucken N.A meetings dickwad?\

Yes Jimmy. Went to freaking five of them – Friday, and two each on Saturday and Sunday. And just got out another meeting just now Jimmy.

WTF? Are you serious? What a bloody turn up for the books you bloody are…

Well, always said I’d keep an open mind Jimmy. When the ex missus took the access away half an hour before having my kid, the shit could have hit the fan Jimmy…

I know fuckface. I am a figment of your imagination remember?

Oh right Jimmy. True. Why do you even ask me questions then?

Literary agency Fiend, literary agency.

I don’t know what the phuck you’re on about now. Figment of imagination or not. You know what Jimmy?

No, what sloppy anus?

You know when you’re trying to go to sleep, or you’re real mellow like?

Are you using again Mr NZ Pin Cushion?

No mate… It’s just that when I am real relaxed, no drugs, sans the gear, you know what I mean?

Get the fuck to the point jizz sucker…

Right you are. Well, when I’m real relaxed like. This voice, I have this real weird scientist guy on the same wavelength as me somewhere in the world Jimmy. Coz sometimes he says shit that there is no way in the world I can know about Jimmy.\

Oh my fucken god…………..

No, seriously Jimmy. Like the other week he was saying some shit about the life expectancy of some fucken turtle that used to live in the middle of what is now Africa Jimmy. There is nothing, anywhere, never about this bloody turtle anywhere on the net.

Like I said, oh my fucken god……

No seriously Jimmy old mate. Another time he said some stuff about the universe and another time about Scottish clan culture. There is no way I ever read anything, or saw anything like that anywhere else Jimmy. Just came into my head like. All these seriously long computations and algorithms that I worked out and got answers to. Like answers in the hundreds of thousands… And then I went to sleep happy knowing I had worked out something seriously cool. And then wake up not knowing how to add one and one again.

Here, have a swig on this mate…….

Cheers.

TODAY WAS GOOD BECAUSE…

I don’t know.

Was it good because I could not sleep after 2am? This was shit actually, as only got to bed about 11pm, three hours sleep is dangerously low if you’re a psychotherapist. To me it is currently ace.

http://matthewbuckley.net/2013/07/15/is-someone-listening-to-the-mentally-ill/

So, I lay there. Read some of Gabors book… Bloody clever stuff. Turned light off. Rolled over. Farted. Rolled over. Farted. Lay on back. Rolled over.Farted. Rolled over. Farted. Rolled over. Farted. Rolled over again, before rolling over again, farting. Finally talked myself into going to sleep just in time to wake up again. Could have shot that damn … whatever it was that woke me up after half an hour… Gave up. Got up. Stomach went “blurrrrrp” like only my stomach can. Farted. Drank some milk. Farted. Went to toilet. Ate porridge. Burped, farted. burped. Went back to toilet. Burped and farted. ………

Went to ex’s house before 9am on foot. She told me I was a fuck wit. I agree, but so are other people. Leave me the fuck alone. I came to get a court paperwork in my favour.

Stayed two hours. Farted. Used toilet three times. Consumed one coffee. Used computer for a little. Mum came around with court paperwork. Said she would shout me a counsellor if I needed one. Holy crap. Seriously? Even Dad sent me a text saying he was on my side with this access arrangement crap. Kind of feel guilty about having a dream where he was chasing me and I stabbed him through the middle with a street sign. Hmmmm….. Freud would love that bit.

Went into Newtown. Used toilet. Used library. Used toilet. Used internet. Used toilet. Ate a pie. Went into town. Put books back in library (MEME WARS – Good book!) used toilet. Went to second hand book shop. Farted so often and so loudly that I had to sit down and read ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SERIAL KILLERS for an hour. Albert Fish has only a small entry, two pages and two photos. Disappointing. They didn’t even have his birthday or the exact dates of his confirmed kills.

One time in Queenstown the radio station had a “birthday call” tAlbert Fish 1903.JPGhing on his birthday (which I now forget…)… I rang up and got ALBERT FISH‘s birthday on the radio. They said “who the hell is that?” So I told them, in my funny way. They couldn’t believe it. The radio jock guy (after I hung up) said “wow, what a freak….” And the other radio jock said “yeah, and that Albert Fish guy seems a bit odd too…..” My flatmate fell over pissing himself half way through cooking our morning taste before he went to work. He was a top chef in a top end restaurant and always demanded to cook our tastes even though he was too slow and pedantic for my taste… Anyhoooooooooo……

Ate a sandwich. Wrote some family court paperwork at ex’s work on her workmates computer. Used toilet. Went to big library. Found a book called… Shit, I forget. It is good though. Is the kind of book that SCATTERED (Shattered) MINDS would have been if printed in 2013. Put it to one side so I can pick it up when I have a chance tomorrow.

Went to N.A meeting. This girl is there again. She is quite attractive. If I was to have a dysfunctional junky recovery relationship, I could do worse. Talk to her for a while. All the guys are kind of jealous. Well, not openly. But I can tell. Have seen it before. She is quite clever. I kind of muscled in on their action one night and took the conversation off to places where they just wondered what the fuck was going on… Why is that pretty girl talking with that ugly shit head and not us? Well… A couple of reasons guys… One of which is that I don’t ask if she is older or younger than her sister and then go “really… Wow”.

Go figure.

I share some crap about step number eight. Farted. This other girl got asked to share. She did. Everyone knew she would crack up. Well, I did. She always cracks up. Her kids got taken by Government people and now her Mum has custody. Her and her Mum ain’t talking. Court, lawyers. Strong emotions. Giving up drugs. You get the picture.

Anyway, after she shares she gets out of the room quick smart. Going for a big arse cry. I grab my court paperwork from Mum and my Ex’s draft and race out after her. I spend half an hour going over her court and what is good for kids etc etc etc. One of the kids has ADhD real bad. I tell her some key things for the age range straight from Gabors book. She looks at me as though I am genius. I feel like a genius. Not for making this shit up, but simply for remembering it.

This is the second or third session I have had with this young lady. She is a mess. No doubt about it. Not the sharpest chip off the block, but meaning well. She is giving up P and stuff. And I know she’s clean. But she still ain’t going to get her kids back any time soon. It’s hard. I see in her exactly what I was when I couldn’t see my kid a decade ago… It was crap. I just about managed to kill myself. She is hanging in there. But no amount of words will sink in. She has a boyfriend (the father of her youngest). I wonder what the hell is going on with that… I think they are a bit young maybe….?

Then a guy comes out and says “we can hear everything through the door”. FUCK. We stand outside. He closes the door and locks us out. I am wearing a t-shirt. It is minus numbers with a wind. I bash on window to get back in. Everyone looks evil at me. Fuck you I finger at them. The Irish guy cracks up laughing and comes out to get us in time for the closing group hug and penis rubbing.

The meeting closes. This young girl comes up and says she has a court date and an appearance with the government social agency and youth workers. I say “cool, I have a court date a few weeks away too”.

She looks distant. I think I am not making sense.

She says “I am allowed a support person there. Will you be my support person? You know so much about everything… And you always keep your cool. I don’t know how you are doing it… Your sister just died and you’re doing what I am doing and……” she started crying again……

Holy crap.

I leave, finish my Subway sandwich and go to internet cafe after using the McDonalds toilet. Am now sitting next to a tourist girl from Germany who thinks NZ guys fart all the time and smell real rank.

Why was this a good day again?

I think the answer is in between the lines.

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