Well, not counting actually. Not at all. Sorry about the language, below. I have had enough. Cannot be bothered any more. Really had it…
Why don’t you, why wont you, MOVE?
Wake up in the morning, Clock says half past one
I have no sunglasses As I step into the sun
There’s no recollection Of the evil things I’ve done
My head feels like I musta’ had some fun
Last thing I remember I was chillin at a party
Pinching girlie’s asses I was drinking recklessly
I know I did something Lord what could it be
Woke up in the morning And all my friends hate me
What am I doing here Who is this girl in my bed
What is this shit on my face — My God, what is that awful smell
She may be an angel She may be a queen She might be black, white, American, Indian or Japanese
Threw a bottle at the bouncer Didn’t think that he was cool
Pissed in someone’s drink And threw a bike into a pool
Driven down the side walk Like a drunken possessed fool
I broke every single traffic rule.
What the fuck has that got to do with anything? Well, sweet fuck all. Other than it was playing on the stereo as I wrote this post 101. Went to N.A. meeting. Made up my mind not to share and just sit there sulking. Ended up being asked to share. And shared. Shouldn’t have. Didn’t know what the fuck to say. Talked some shit about the day. Didn’t tell anyone my Mum is really upset as her Mum is dying. Didn’t tell anyone I am in court for chasing a police cunt up the road with my car when my sister died and the police prick wanted me to stay there and be arrested. Didn’t say sweet stuff all. I was feeling down. And was happy listening to other people. And then sharing sucks. I did not really want to talk about me. I have had enough of me. It’s just one disaster after the next still. Telecom didn’t come around to put my internet on. They rang (after me leaving countless emails and voice messages) to say they might be able to do it on the 26th. I am in Family Court on the 26th and told them to cancel the internet and employ some people with I.T skills, not just salesman in pretty little skirts. Assholes, the lot of them. I got the judges order back from my 5000 words and three days of collecting paperwork. All he did is add “look into further possibility of child professional counselling or psychoanalysis to the Lawyer For Child terms of reference.” Assholes, the lot of them. Got a letter from legal aid, I have been appointed a new lawyer for chasing that dumb ass pig up the road. Never heard of the lawyer. And I have been an active criminal in Wellington since the 80’s. Assholes…. Then I get a letter from the gastro people. I have a new appointment for 18th December. Assholes….. And the walk to and from N.A meeting was hard work. My back and leg complaints have come back. Took a long time to walk home. It is only 1.5km. Took the better part of an hour. Stomach burping and farting the whole way. I feel crook. And then I was meant to have my phone call with my daughter tonight. Of course she wouldn’t ring. WHY THE FUCK WOULD SHE? I AM ONLY HER FUCKEN DAD FOR FUCKSAKE. What the hell does that matter? Fuck me. ASSHOLES, the lot of them.
I feel completely over it.
Maybe I should just move. Have enough money to fuck off to somewhere with no child support treaty with NZ. Fuck this really. If I was in Europe somewhere I could buy my own ritalin for a dollar fifty. But then I wouldn’t need it anyway. I’d either be a work-a-holic or a smack head. Quite happily.
If this is reality, give me a big bag of smack.