It’s never obscene to say what you mean, so shove it…..
Not my writing, unfortunately. Should be. I like. Makes sense. Is purr fect. Felines of the world unite and give the old Wellington “punk” band, Number_9 the credit for this little gem.
Cynthia, bass for Number9, Wellington New Zealand punk in the eighties
See you in hell, circles only go right back to the start….
Did I ever tell you about the “girlfriend” of mine whom had a bit of a melt down and stabbed some people and tried to burn the house down with everyone in it? We have the same birthday. Her name means Snake in the old days. I have tattoo’s of a snake with three bodies, but only two heads. And the snake is fighting with a woman with knives. She is stabbing one of the snakes… That snake was never completed. It was going to wrap around my neck and bite into my ear. But I was 16 at the time and didn’t have enough money for that bit.
Circles always go right back to the start.
And the number seven comes up a lot in life cycles. So, it is lucky that it is the 12th anniversary since that snake stabbing tattoo came to life on New Years holiday… Not the seventh, nor fourteenth.
Otherwise I definitely WOULD NOT be going down to the district court right now to check up on the latest nutcase I feel like helping out.
There is a few people like this in N.A. Like me, I mean. We genuinely help people. Even though this young fella has a sponsor, he looks up to me for some totally fucked up reason. I think he is pretty amazing too. He told the methadone people, and Sam McBride, to shove it too. He jumped off quite a bit of methadone too. He is 22 or something. His family has a history of epilepsy and red haired ness. Probably left handed and ADhD too.
So, whenever I can I give him a lift. Talk shit. Etc. Etc. He’s actually a champion NZ dancer in some category of dance that actually makes a bit of money. But he’s also trying to set up a building company and wanted to buy one of my Fords. I like the idea of that. But only one Ford is running. So offered to take him on a few jobs and see what happens.
What will happen there is that my back will die. So he will do all the work. And if the home owner is around I will have to just make loud noises with tools pretending to do something. This way I will not invalidate my claim to NZ social services. Actually – I need those damn services. Seriously. Sure, I look good for one day a fortnight throwing boulders around or lifting gearboxes. But you should see me on the off days.
This week has been an off week.
My back went out a little. I couldn’t move for a day or two around my Mums birthday. Which sucks. Her birthday is important time. I also ended up hardly able to breathe, kept having to fight for air, almost drowned on my own phlegm… You know you are in trouble when you can’t get to your phone to ring the ambulance or hospital and your phone is beside your pillow on the bed.
Yes foks, old NZFiend felt so much like his dead sister that inside he was laughing at his predicament. Every joint in your body feels like your arthritic spine. But your arthritic spine has spread to include your hips, and is now just a big lump of crushed glass rubbing itself against your nerves endings every time you move.
Inside I was laughing. I handed everything over to my higher power on this front. The higher power said something along the lines of “fuck you are a complete twat, get back to me in a few days when you make sense”.
Who gave me that higher power anyway? What an asshole it turned out to be. Hahahah.
So, I was very very sick. But have been that way before. Although no amount of stomach pumping, narcaine, or drug abuse therapy could save me from this one, I have no doubt the hospital would have been a much better option, but by the time it was obviously required, I was too unwell to make the phone call. I counted my own pulse for a while but it confused me too much. So I concentrated my thought powers on more positive things. Have now got designs in my head for some rather cunning walking and mobility aids that turn into very very nasty offensive weapons at the flick of a switch. Oh dear.
After I recovered a bit from that I had to book another airline flight to start this drug therapy trial in Auckland. It kills HEP C quite well. I am HEPC 3.a genome, which is a hard one to kill. So they’re keen to get their dirty little hands on me and fill me up with some drugs (a few of which are yet to be given names and are not yet even being considered for FDA approvals… If I don’t die, I will be a small part of the reason why the drugs may get FDA approval…… For years to come HEP C sufferers the world over can thank me for this… I am flying to Auckland and back every week for the next few months to be prodded with dirty old needles and tested and made to feel like utter death for your benefit people… Hope you bloody well send me a Christmas card when you need these drugs later….)
I spent the following night at someone else’s place. It’s very rarely that you, as a male, spend twenty hours in a girls bed without so much as wanking. But hell, what can I say?.. I was glad to be left alone, other than having to tell her she was pushing me over the side of the bed by a little over vigorous snuggling a few times… Somehow I don’t think that your self esteem is given a shot in the arm by having a guy with debatable looks and dubious morals ignore you, in your own bed, all night. Probably will have to buy her a Christmas card actually….
But hell, it is getting late. I have to go down to court and see how she is getting on with her court case.
I am still working out how 40mg of Ritalin a day is working on me. Think I might have to stop taking it for these drug trails. Something to do with heart rates, blood pressure and all these odd computations they have not made clear to me. Having a broken heart is okay, you can deal with it. Having one that overworks and blows up doesn’t sound quite so awesome.
Which really really really annoys me now.
I don’t want HepC killing my liver. But I don’t want impulsive angry ADhD crap ruining my chances of seeing my daughter over Christmas…
Rock and a hard place. We live between.
NZ Fiendishly Fiends Fabricated Withdrawal Fables 