I apologise…

Sorry about all the Lorde posts. I know this blog is the shittest blog on the entire internet (I should start an award… In fact, I will… Here it is…)

This Blog has been awarded the TOTALLY SHIT BLOG award!

I would like to thank everyone for their support in this process. You know who you are…

I now return you to your normal crap.

Yesterday was an interesting sort of day. Walked to court and back, dropped papers off. No one seemed to know anything. Family court was the same. Wrote an email before leaving the house, and, typically, have not heard back thirty hours later….

Sir,  

today is set down as a date for registrar review. I note that Annette Gray was almost three weeks late with her report (being ordered to produce it by the fourth and not so much as interviewing my daughter until the 17th) and that KG is under the impression no report was required before the Fourth of October. Even then, KG has stated his report will not be ready by the Fourth. Where he gets these dates from is not clear to me, I have received no paperwork regarding this.
 
May I remind you the Judge directed an updated risk assessment from KG under s 133 Care of Children Act. Counsel and myself are requested to confer on the brief and file a specific brief Within seven days. [Judge] requests that KG file his report by 25 September.
 
As of last week KG had still not received the finalised directions for his report brief.
 
I wish to, once again, convey my disappointment in these unprofessional delays and compounding errors that further damage the relationship between my daughter and I.
 
By enforcing separation in the first instance the court is actually creating more of a problem with returning this relationship to the healthy one it once was. 
 
It is now over three months since I have had any contact with my daughter, and I can see that Christmas is coming and then February may be the first court date available by the time Powell, Gray and KG all become available.
 
I remind you that we are supposedly on the “fast track” and that as such our case should be heard within three months, not just a “call over” or registrar update.
 
Please telephone me on 021 555 ANAL if you require my presence today. Yours Sincerely, your friend, NZFiend.

So, dropped papers off for criminal court. No one knew anything. Typically.

Walked home. Sat down, lost paperwork for the psych appointment about daughter access. Started running late. Jumped in car, drove out motorway. Was running late so over took a very slow moving pig car.

Pig car speeds up and follows me for five km. I predict what is going to happen, so take an exit and pull over.

Sure enough, cops pull up. They had recognised me and thought I was wanted. Turns out my car is illegal (I knew that) and they want to keep me at the side of the road writing out tickets. I say I don’t have time, and could they please fuck off.

The old cop who recognised me kept trying to look in the car. I asked him not to touch my car. It is my property, not his. He suggested he was looking at its “safety features”. The younger cop blushed slightly and walked off to do something more important (like play with his penis).

I told the older cop that he was unlikely to find any “safety features” in the boot or back seats of my wagon, and that he could be thrown out of court if he did find any drugs (which, let’s face it, the real reason he was trying to look into the flotsam and jetsam that is my car interior…)

He said he had reasonable cause to search.

“Being fucken what?” I say.

“Being that you are you.” says he smugly.

“No, that’s not good enough, and you know it.”

Smug old cop removes smug look and looks slightly startled. He is, however, very careful not to touch my car or property but continues around the vehicle slowly trying to use his super cop X-Ray vision.

“You know that’s not good enough, but I will now lock the car and ask you for your reason in writing, along with your real name and badge number, and then not bother showing up to court because you’ve totally fucked the Drugs Act procedures…”

The younger cop really wishes he was somewhere else by this point. The old boy is embarrassing him. I had been nice. I had pulled over BEFORE they even put the lights on. I was polite. I told them my business. I told them I had been disqualified and that the car did not have correct paperwork as I did not see the point having only just got license back. Young cop said he would send me a ticket. I said “fine“. We both chuckled. Funny guys.

Older cop said “where is your license”.

“In the car, but I can’t find it. Have a look at all the shit in there.”

Old cop says “that’s three tickets in the mail then.”

I say “adjust your continence pad old man”, show him a middle finger and drive off before he gets to his car.

Legally speaking, they could have chased me and charged me with “undue acceleration”, but they could not have caught me. The cars throttle must have stuck open or something. It flew down the on-ramp to the motorway, well and truly breaking the speed limit by the time I merged with traffic and a four litre turbo Falcon decided to race me. We had good fun ripping up the motorway for another five km. Not saying we were going too fast… But, uhm… I was doing the 100km/h speed limit in second gear. And, uhm… I may have hit valve bounce and redline in fourth at one point. Uhm. Car has five gears. Uhm…. In no way did I look at speedo and see what speed I was doing. Of course I would have slowed down if I had known I was going too fast. Uhm. The turbo Falcon was just as fast. Bet you he thought I had a turbo or supercharger too. 

Of course I would have slowed down if I knew how fast I was going. Uhm. Yeah right.

Family Psych Guy

Finally got to the meeting only a little late. Did not tell him about the run in with the filth until later in the interview. I was a bit stressed. Running late and the filth do that to an upstanding guy like myself. Family Psych Guy knows I have eighty odd convictions. I end up telling him about all the shit. ADhD, having no control over my own destiny. Etc  etc etc. Feel like breaking shit. Blowing shit up. Getting more Angry Birds tattoos.

Went for a drive afterwards. Put fifty dollars 98 octane in and used the whole lot in about fourty km (thirty miles). This is not fuel economy. This foot planted. Mental health driving. Relaxation knob turned to “max”.

Parked car at home and decided to walk to N.A meeting. Never been to this meeting before. Put some videos onto USB stick from Gabor Maté to show someone. Walked out door. Walked up street. Saw someone whom said “we are all reading your blog.” Which I know is a lie. Unless one person reads it and then emails it to everyone else. WordPress tells me how many people look at it. And, I promise you, it never reaches double figures!

TOTALLY SHIT BLOG AWARD, remember?!

Carry on walking, wondering if I should mention that in this blog or not.

Then I see a lady and a guy cross the street and give her the USB stick with the videos on. Random. My higher power is awesome. Co-Incidence is awesome. Life is awesome. Apart from when you want to kill yourself all the time. She thinks it is odd that I see her in a Newtown bar randomly and give her a USB stick. I run off and explain via text that I have “Newtown” tattoo’d on my arm for a reason.

I get to the Newtown N.A meeting. I see my car nearby. Owning two cars is kind of funny like that. As is Newtown in general.

I say nothing at meeting, not even a “hello” or the prayer at the end… Not even a “thanks” at the end of someones sharing… Nothing. I just walk in, make a coffee with four heaped teaspoons of instant, sit down, drink coffee, fidget a bit, and leave.

After meeting a guy runs up wanting a lift to the airport. I explain I have to find the guy with the car keys. We find him, but he wants to give us a lift to airport. I just think “what the fuck” and jump in the back. He drops us at the airport and drives off in my car leaving us to catch the bus back. I mentally shrug a few times.

We have a half hour wait for plane to arrive from South Island as N’s daughter missed the original flight. We are talking shit about stuff when I spot another Dad and daughter. Instantly she says “hi” and we all stop and get to know eachother. is still on methadone. “Only 30mgs a day” he tells me proudly. “I am thinking of coming off” he adds. I tell him I cannot see my kid at the moment, and a good percentage of the reason for that is giving up methadone three months ago. 

He agrees with my sentiment and says a large contributing factor to him still being on the ‘drone is that he cannot afford time off being a solo Dad to cold turkey it.

Sad.

N’s kid gets off the plane, and P’s kid gets on. They almost have the same seats. One flies south, the other arrives. P gives me and N and A (his daughter) a lift to their place. On the way I work out our daughters are all nine years old. I am 39, N is 44 and P is 49. We have all been on methadone. Me and N have been straight for a while. He is a month cleaner than me. 

Clean as a meat axe.

I finally get home and pretty much go straight to bed. Cannot sleep. Cannot read. Cannot watch TV.

But do come up with a lot of creative ways of waging another little private war with the police. Cunning old NZFiend spends the night dreaming of screwing with the pigs. Would have preferred to have good sleep really. Today I had heaps of shit to do. And have not even put shoes on to leave the house. It is 3pm. I don’t think today will amount to anything.

If serenity is staying home in bad weather and not caring, then I have found her.

XXX

Great video by young Auckland student, Kezia Tan … Freaken good. Much better than my shit blog. 100%.

And, here is my last words on LORDE.

PLEASE DO NOT READ THE LYRICS TO “THE LOVE CLUB” or watch the video. No way. Holy shit. Poor Lorde. All the makings of a drug fiend right there. Good luck with that.

Oh shit. Whatever, here are the lyrics to LORDE’s “THE LOVE CLUB”…

I’m in a clique but I want out
It’s not the same as when I was punched
In the old days there was enough
The card games and ease with the bitter salt of blood
I was in but I want out
My mother’s love is choking me
I’m sick of words that hang above my head
What about the kid? It’s time the kid got free

I joined the club and it’s all on
There are fights for being my best friend
And the girls get their claws out
There’s something about hanging out with the wicked kids
Take the pill make it too ill
The other day I forgot my old address
I’m sitting pretty on the throne,
There’s nothing more I want
Except to be alone.

Your clothes are soaked and you don’t know where to go
So drop your chin and take yourself back home
And roll out your maps and papers
Find out your hiding places again
The only problem that I got with the club
Is how you’re severed from the people who watched you grow up
When you’re a member go on your great adventure again
They will be waiting at the end.

Be a part of the love club
Everything will glow for you
You’ll get punched for the love club
For the love club. 

HOLY SHIT. Was this girl only fourteen when she wrote this? Fuck me. Lucky her Mum is a poet. Otherwise I would think she was on drugs.

Watch the guy at 1m 38s. BLOODY AWESOME MOVES! THIS GAVE ME A HUGE LAUGH. Instantly. Funny as all fuck. Hah-leer-e-us. NOFX doing “don’t call me White” in Sweeden. Crazy f’ing Swedes. ….

Pretty sure NOFX were on drugs.

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