Posts by NZFiend

Interestingly boring type of character. Invents things. Tells stories, sometimes tall... Draws pictures and does stuff sometimes... Feels strongly that the world is fucked. Is trying hard to blame it on capitalism, free market economy and psychopathic business leader. Isn't a bad guy. At all.

NZ activist award to NZ Govt torture program victim

No award for being an ex junkie suck, but knowing Sue Grey and being arrested for being a terrorist in NZ as I was thought to be pulling 1080 foot use in terror activities….. gives my lack of award a certain shine

Rangitikei Environmental Health Watch

Thank you for exposing this sadistic man and standing up for truth Paul Zentveld. Shame on the NZ government. EWR

nigels award 2The prestigious Leveling The Playing Field awards, an annual award open for New Zealanders speaking out against human rights, corruption and environmental harm has presented it’s second award for the 2020 season to Paul Zentveld for his work in exposing the Lake Alice torture program.

Paul Zentveld took the complaint to the United Nations Committee on Torture after the NZ government sought to ignore complaints. In fact, the NZ Medical Council assisted the torturer-in-charge to flee New Zealand with a clean record to where he now resides in Melbourne, Dr Selwyn Leeks.

The United Nations have condemned the NZ Government for their failure to take action. The torture involved physical and sexual abuse of an extreme nature including use of ECT, electro-shock to parts of the body including genitals on…

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Email to my doctor…

A script for twenty tramadol? Omg. Never mind, please write out a million of those lousy pathetic pain killers, stat!

Other than that… check this little stalkerbook post out I wrote last night…

Today I sat down with my partner (yes, same lady  – six months now) at a kind of couples therapy thing…. I have just got a counselor for non ADHD things… And he put some stuff on a whiteboard… Which was very interesting and worth remembering… Then he continued on, and although I wanted to interrupt, I also didn’t want to… There was a lot more interesting stuff…

And then I had to interrupt as I had tears in my eyes. For the first time ever, in my whole life, I had REALLY wanted to remember and pay attention to something but I was incapable of recalling the first eureka moment I had had just a few minutes ago. Of course I was trying so hard to recall it, then got so overwhelmed, that the other bits I was sure to remember also disappeared into the ADHD void.

My partner saw me with tears approaching after I blurted out “sorry counselor guy, but I got to stop you, for the first time in my life Im fuckieen upset with myself for not being able to remember something that I really wanted to…

My partner held my hand and I saw her with a few tears also… Things are emotional, sure. But this was truly something else.

It might be normal for some people to get that support. But that is, unsurprisingly, another life first for me. 

Those little moments outweigh all the garbage and problems we have.
At least in my opinion.

Growth today. 
Fingers crossed it has not withered tomorrow.

It’s the Little things

Quite literally on this occasion.

Missing. Presumed dead. LITTLE MAN feline rescue #26, or thereabouts, returned to the fold after a mammoth effort involving breaking bail in order to rescue him again…

And… Nine of these things taking flight this very morning.

Whenever I struggle I find it food for the sole to remember the little things.

Seems the Little Thing remembers me too.


I think I may be in it. Love that is.


Currently bail conditions restrict me from seeing the lady concerned… So we break my conditions every time she comes… and crumbs, does we gets to cum… it’s a great thing, saved me from a lurking depression…


Only to find she has massive anxiety attacks that I can help with…


This is a huge thing for me …


Actual love. No screwing around… thinking more about her welfare than mine…  Running myself into the ground for her…


She says she’s in love.


But I show mine.



I love my cats, I hate my cats

A couple of years ago the run down State Housing Block I was living in was surrounded on all sides by, and standing the real risk of falling to, FERAL FELINE FURBABIES.

These damn wild cats multiply faster than you can imagine.

Me, being me…

All that empathy, to the point of identification… I saw hungry scavenging cats… I know what it is like to be hungry for a few weeks at a time – and what it is like to get a half decent meal once a day after that time.

Of course – me, being me – the horrid skinny ugly temperamental cats would get some meals! Especially the cute little kittens, whom I thought would stand a chance of getting to know hoomans and degenerating from their lofty status as king ferals to turn into lovable, fat, healthy house cats.

A few years pass, to the present day our story flies. With a montage of births, deaths, chasing images on computer screens, chasing tails, chasing tennis balls, catching tennis balls, throwing back tennis balls — wait? whaaaaaaaaaat? throwing back tennis balls? yes – actually properly throwing back tennis balls. okaaaaaaaay then –— combined with all the bites, scratches, punctures, bleeding, bruising and lost nails… Lost nails. Yes, lost nails. When one of these teethy buggers latches onto your arm like it is climbing a tree and uses its inner pit bull to bite your fingertip. You lose a nail. Simple really when you think about it.

Not having ever wanted cats, it is funny how I now have three ex-feral wild cats moving around with me, along with another three or four I feed outside each night. To be honest the shed roller door is left open six inches at the bottom. It has been this way for almost year. Despite freezing in the uninsulated and drafty shed this allows the outside crew to come in an clean up anything the “house cat team” don’t spot. It’s a good arrangement. For bending down and cleaning up spilt cat food can be daunting some days.


I love my cats…. They are a source of amusement. And pride. Yeah, I think maybe pride is the biggest feeling I have for these horrible things that were at deaths door. For they are all troopers in their own way. Has taken a year of keeping oine inside, but he finally lets me pat him and has even tried jumping on bed. So – PRIDE at how far they have come and amazement at their constant learning and progress sums up.

I hate my cats…

For I have not spent one single night away from this place since moving in almost a year ago.  No matter when I am in the country I get back every single night in order to feed, clean toilet trays and provide a human shaped pillow for them to curl up next to.

This arrangement works well.

For the cats.

For me it is starting to prove antisocial and possibly part of becoming depressed…

Actually being on a feline imposed 10pm-7am curfew. As though I am on police bail, or court imposed sanctions of some type.

For that I cannot hate the cats.

But I cannot hate myself. So, the cats get the blame. For now.

Lorde Battle Axe, just kicking it.

Lorde Battle Axe, just kicking it.

Zen and the art of Luck

An old time biker druggy type guy commented after a particularly daft session of my sharing at an N.A meeting “you, Tony, are either the luckiest or the unluckiest guy I ever met…

Without hesitation the reply came from my mouth… “Luckiest“…. Inwardly gulping, my mind took my body elsewhere before having to explain.

Guess the old jail bird had worked it out before asking anyway. 

As it transpires I learnt something today, a few years after the above encounter. It is not every day I celebrate learning something, more is the sadness.

Today, upon finishing Doctor Paul Woods New Zealand best seller “How to Escape from Prison”, I realised my one big take from the book was that LUCK is more the art of some strategy falling into place than pure chance.

Although I paraphrase Pauls philosophical prowess very badly, that is how my little bit of mental real estate will remember it as reading years from now.

Besides… This wording falls in well with my own philostinodiphies involving wyrdnesses and applications of karma… And low and behold, within minutes, I am finding myself out of bed for the first time in a week and turning on a computer with the express intention of avoiding YouTube, Stalkerbook or other such instances of menace that we have enslaved ourselves to.

Having thought of luck as the micro second when risk management, behaviours (some pretty extreme, admittedly) and skills turn from theory into outcome there is no surprise when things work out without killing you. For people like me, anything other than death was a lucky outcome. Wyrd that. Sure doesn’t feel lucky at the time, but considering how extreme the behaviours were…

I guess lucky is a superb, albiet seemingly simple, way of putting things.

About thirty five years ago, although being more interested in sex, drugs, rock n roll, motorbikes, football and tattoo’s there were moments of applied reality. At which times utterances such as “we are walking through life backwards, you can only see where you have been” fell from the tree of my somewhat addled mind into to lap of conscious thought that would be lost as soon as I stood to do something else…  ADHD perhaps? You think? 🙂 Doh… .

My own take on Doctor Paul Wood was somewhat different from his own accounts of himself. When first meeting the Paul Wood who had just murdered Wellington drug dealer, sex fiend and highly questionable character, Boyd B’ it was in Wellingtons Crawford jail just up from Peter Jacksons bolt hole of a movie centre.

Paul stood tall, despite having his share of pimples and other obvious reactions that us tall young white teenagers seem to have in relation to vast drug intakes. For some reason there was little doubt he would Escape from the merry go round of poverty, life, addiction, criminality, drugs, bad relationships, failed jobs and other problems that persist for most of us in jail with violent, drug and dishonesty offenses.

Reading his book, How to Escape from Prison, on sale now via all sorts of places – on audio book even for you overseas people who love to laugh at NZ accents – showed me entirely to be wrong on a few things.

My assumption was not to offer Paul drugs as he was trying to be straight at the time.
Being put on punishment with Pauls mate, “Fish” for trying to smuggle in 200mgs of Methadone and Valium pills wrapped tightly into a “charge” that was never going to fit where it was supposed to. The screw at the time was suspicious of me and my drug dealing friend who were on remand together and it was his girlfriend who came to visit me! Furthermore the fact we sat in the one spot we thought no cameras could see… Later years that screw would be unit boss at the pods in Rimutaka (WRP) I inhabited from time to time.

Anyways, I was going into withdrawal badly from using hundreds, sometimes thousands of mg’s of morphine a day on top of my 165mg methadone dose.  And therefore saving some of the methadone that was still being given to me and giving it away was easy – for it wasn’t touching the side already!

They used to call such high doses of methadone “blockades” in the mistaken belief you could not get enough drugs to get wasted over the top of such a massive daily intake of Nazi opiate juice. WRONG!

SEVERE withdrawals for three months in a cell with his old best friend, Fish, two doors down in the remand wing awaiting trials or sentencing (or both).

Turns out I learnt a few things today after all.

Although some of the learning is obviously for the second or third time.

paul2We are who we are, but that doesn’t mean change and improvement should be discouraged.

A leopard may not change it’s spots, but it sure as hell can refrain from abusing the people who cancelled it’s latest appointment for pain relief surgery.

Sure, it would be nice to have one less reason to be stuck in bed via the pain  subsiding and have some ability to move freely around the shed I currently inhabit and potter away at some projects.

Sure, my life seems pointless to myself at such times of feeling unable.

Sure, it seems to me as though, once again, the CCDHB are stuffing around with any proper chance this particular leopard may have of leading a normal life.

So, try. Try, I did… Yoda…

I rung the hospital and talked to lady who was victim of a hurtful phone call. The apology did not quite make it out the leopards mouth as intended, for the hurt and blame I put on them for not seeming to care about my poor pain management difficulties raised it’s backside and dropped it’s trousers minutes into the call.

The Leopard has an inner Monkey or something going on. The ADhD monkey just loves that backside with trousers dropping seemed very appealing and the annoyance at my own predicament was becoming more important than any one thing else – including others well being or happiness, to my own disgust.

But hopefully the lady concerned will feel better about things. Perhaps not now, but when this grumpy single old man living in pain and without love can make good on his own promise to try harder.

Which is a lot more than would have been achieved a few years ago.

My life may appear to be fucked. Mainly to myself. But as Zen and Paul Wood may have reminded me, I can only see where I have been.

When onwards and upwards seems to be more like a bouncing ball, there is not a lot wrong with taking a bit of rest.

Bed in limited quantities may be okay after all.

Just don’t let it become your master.  Addiction is okay in certain quantities. Just don’t tell the CCDHB Addiction Services. It may get them questioning their very being a little too closely.




Thank you DOCTOR PAUL WOOD for being kind and empathetic enough to write a message. It was entirely his doing after none of my own attempts were successful in getting me out of bed and writing a few words. These words may see the light of day if the author takes a deep enough breath, stops changing the font colours and hits that PUBLISH button.

Images taken from without consent showing a ceremony from Massey Univershity in Wellington that he attended. Unlike me, who was politely asked not to attend his graduation… Sigh. There is something about owning who you are that others find complicated. Or maybe just needed to allow more water under bridges….




PAUL WOOD – How to escape from Prison

How to Escape from Prison by Doctor Paul Wood


Currently just purchased this and am reading it. Of course I am in contact with the author and correcting him on a few drug related things… That’s me for you, without doubt.

Of course he “thanks me” for reminding him of the night in jail he got found guilty.

Of course his life turned out better than mine……