Typically…

NZ HERALD shares Multi millionaire business guy gets caught with four grams of good old fashioned cocaine, gets name suppression made permanent, gets a small fine, almost zero percent of his net worth…. Meanwhile people like me go to jail for taking a couple of painkillers to get on with everyday life.

Fuck you NZ Justice. YOU OFFICIALLY SUCK. 

Highlighting the gap between the haves and the have knots has never been simpler.

This wanker got caught with FOUR OUNCES (over 100 grams) of pure cocaine and gets fined the equivalent of 0.0001% of his income.

The drug law in New Zealand is garbage. And, although pushed on us by Henry Anslinger followers after the bullshit prohibition on alcohol went west, must be adhered to.

If you, or dare I say it, I, were found with an amount of cocaine large enough to fall into the category of DRUG DEALING, we would be going to jail, no question. Along the way we would not get our names permanently hidden from public scrutiny.

New Zealand “JUSTICE”

Fucken UNJUST.

Serenity is being free to pick your own snot…

Apologies to everyone whom has witnessed me struggling with nose issues (picking and digging at phantom pains and non existent snot balls) for last five months since nose surgery…

FINALLY GOT THE SOURCE OF THE PROBLEM…
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This nylon stitch was removed from right nostril by a very fed up and irritable NZFiend utilising excessive force of left handed pinky finger nail.

Life maybe shitty, homeless, avoiding jail by skin of teeth, avoiding opiate addiction even though legs numb by spine clicking out causing agony…

Being able to pick and blow your own nose at will is true freedom.

Just had to write something

Has been a while. Really should write more, contemplate less. For, after all, it is better out than in.

Unless you are contemplating walking around with your penis out

Have had no time at my computer for quite some time. Re posting other peoples good work on twitter, facebook or wordpress is a copout. So, no way I would ever simply fill a gap in my own pathetic attempts to keep my life in order via journal. Hell no… http://wp.me/p3xGVw-KX

As part of the GILEAD drug trial for what is now known as Subosifor (or some shit spelt similar) it is sad that people like me will not be able to get the drug in NEW ZEALAND for some time. I spent my own money and time for this research. Although there will be a tattoo of ED GANE’s signature on my liver (hey ED – You still have not sent me a copy of your signature – I will have to make one up shortly….) there will be no love lost between NZ and GILEAD.

My Doctor (G.P) claims to be on a “board” which is looking into the pharmac funding of these drugs… It is interesting in this world of capitalist fucking clowns that hundreds of thousands of people in poorer countries are getting the very drug that JOHN KEY and NATIONAL right wing politics denies us here.

 

sobisssoore

So, just had to write something today. Was looking for PHEONIX FOUNDATION VIDEOS (specifically this one…)

and just HAD TO write something….

Subscribing to MEMPHIS CHANNEL the video at top of page was 3,666 views. You just cannot beat people on the same wavelength.

a6663

I have two days to move all my stuff and find a place to live.

Instead I am relying on my old motto ;

1 ) UNLESS THEY KILL ME I WILL GROW STRONGER AND BE BACK.

2) THEY CAN’T FUCKEN KILL ME.

My higher power

needs a reminder

 

WHITE RABBITS. Sunrise. Sleepless again. Shit.

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Sunrise. Goddam. Sleep woulda been nice.

Tried to re-break fractures in nose at Wellington Hospital yesterday…. Failed…

Now being booked in for ’emergency’ surgery.

Is that really necessary” says me.

“Mate, it’s a bloody complicated and extreme septum deviation. It’s really not a simple operation…. ”

Okay, thanks” says me with relief after spending the last five minutes concentrating on not passing out due to amazing pain in face and head.

General anesthesia sounds great. Pissing about trying to put bridge of nose a few mm towards the left left me with headaches and feeling pulse through nose like a hammer all night.

Knock me the fuck out and rearrange this septum…. ffs!

CCDHB is great. Although being banned and trespassed from all CCDHB grounds and environs, they continue to ignore this and provide me with world class health care.

Clarissa Broderick and her strap on are the only things at all denied to me by this “trespassing” order by the looks of it.

The trespass order is illegal in my opinion anyway, and I would love the Police to try and enforce it.

I have rung and Twitter’d #nzpolice showing them when I am “illegally trespassing” yet they have not once come to arrest me.

Clarissa and her strap on is more appealing than this headache and nose issue.

May try booking an appointment with her. I said “white rabbits” after all. Am due a good month.

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Nose. Hard to tell, but it's fucked, although wasn't actually fucked...

Was glad to have been of service…

In an absolutely stupendous way, am glad to have been of service.

A number of the unfortunately afflicted, otherwise known as those whom deal with Wellington Addiction Services, have contacted the author of this, the worlds shittest blog, either asking for advice for upcoming meetings, or commenting on their own experiences with the said Addict DisServices.

Some of the best service I have been, to both the afflicted and the DisService, has been verified today. This is a POSITIVE OUTCOME of a USER LEAD APPROACH to dealing with a perceived LACK OF ENGAGEMENT FROM THE SERVICE.

WHEN GOING TO THE SERVICE AND MEETING WITH
CLARISSA “Yes Mistress” BRODERICK
AND
TOM “Baa Baa like a sheep” FLEWETT,
JUST REMEMBER THE IMAGES YOU HAVE IN YOUR MIND OF THEIR
STRAP ONS,
WHIPS AND CANES.

Imagine Clarissa in a head mistress uniform strapping your bare arse with a cane. Imagine Tom keeping her away from the animals…. Imagine whatever you like that helps you deal with them fucking you.

http://scripts.iucr.org/cgi-bin/paper?S0567740877002544 Some public speakers use the technique of imagining their audience as being naked. This works reasonably well when attempting to control nerves and self doubt etc. Given the possibility that you do not have access to high levels of PROPRANOL this is entirely relevant. Just remember the rumour that CCDHB has a huge supply of sponsored strap ons supplied by visiting drug company sales representatives and imagine vividly what they do with them whilst looking them in the eye.

It will stop you presenting to them as annoyingly angry when they deny your well thought and well researched treatment regime to coerce you into their antiquated and highly dysfunctional therapy system.

Remember to praise them both for having nice arses on your way out to score elsewhere.

Very depressed, giving up, dying, watching TRUE DETECTIVE and my high higher power….

Have been so depressed lately. Mentioning possibilities of, or the proximities to, self harm or suicidal thoughts would get me in trouble with the people whom I always say “NO” to.

HINT FOR NEW USERS —
** always say no to all questions regarding anything to do with hearing voices, having suicidal thoughts, having been committed to any institution or having been a drug addict.
JUST SAY NO

I walked to probation expecting to be shafted. The lady who saw me was very dubious at first, but I played her a couple of telephone recordings that had been made between myself and the mother of my daughter. The probation lady looked at me in a new light. There is a long story about this meeting to be written, but will reduce it to – FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE HANDING MYSELF IN TO POLICE TWO AND A HALF MONTHS AGO AND BEING IN JAIL, SOMEONE WITH A REAL SAY AS TO MY FUTURE LISTENED TO ME.

My lawyer, Val Nisbett, has been completely class A fucken USELESS. He expects to be paid a lot of money. WHAT ON EARTH FOR? Piss off Val, you are proving yourself worthy of trailing in your kids Mums wake as she heads up the capitalist law ladder.

I talked with this nice probation lady for over two hours. Did warn her that we may need a whole day. For the first time I talked about the role my beautifully hearted young lady friend had in the situation. The probation lady was astounded, and probably thought maybe she should have ticked the boxes for me “hearing voices” and having “irrational thoughts” after all.

This young lady (call her Legs) legged it away from Wellington mid April as she was having addiction issues of her own. She rung me when I was at the mother of my daughters house. The mother of my daughter heard me talking to her, heard me being very understanding and supportive. Heard me being a very nice and thoughtful person. Upon showing the mother of my daughter a photo of the girl concerned, there was an instant pang of some odd chemical smashing it’s way through my head. OOOOPS. There was a spark of something there. My kids Mum … well …. MAYBE I SHOULD NOT HAVE SHOWN HER THAT DAMN PHOTO. 

Upon arriving home from probation at 1:40, and having been talking and thinking hard about “Legs” half an hour earlier…. There was NO SURPRISE AT ALL when GMAIL showed me she had emailed me at 1:27. Legs, to my knowledge, did not even know my email address.

Somewhat shamefully, we have sent and received 66 emails since. Some of mine have been five thousand words. Some of hers have made more sense and been more concise (!!!)… 66 emails in four days sounds like a lot. But then, having thought it was getting out of hand, there were no emails for two 20 hours periods. So,  66 emails in four days with almost two days off. This is embarrassing. I think I bloody well like this girl. Bugger. She is far too good for me, but there are things we should learn and teach eachother. And, at the end of the day, we are able to just have some stupid shameless fun. I can, admittedly, do this with almost anyone, despite their better better sense of self worth. Whatever, it was as surprising to me as all holy fuck when I started wishing this beautiful young thing was old and ugly so we could have a relationship and fly under the radar.

Was so happy to hear from her. When last seeing her she was a little confused and walking off. No hug, no wave, no goodbye from me, as was running late to get my daughter on the Tuesday evening. I will always regret not being a little more forceful with her in some ways, but then when she rang crying her eyes out and needing a talk, there was relief in me as she re-assured me she was in a good place. 

I then spent six weeks in jail and am now stuck at home. Have been very depressed.

As has she.

Upon hearing about jail and everything, she started blaming herself for my predicament. Honestly, I have never met anyone quite like this one. I like her way too much and sending some honest emails such as “when you were asleep in my flat that morning, I took off and had a quick bonk with someone else, and you thought I was on Facebook the whole time,….”

We were never a couple at all. But, later that afternoon, when sneaking in to wake her, I sat there and thought how much I trusted her and how damn cute she is….. And…. What is this? An emotion of some sort?

I was very close to giving up and using a lot of drugs and just not giving a fuck on Monday. Then there was the drug and alcohol psych meeting on Thursday. This is part of the NZ Court system, as they consider virtually every problem in my life, or offending, to be drug related.

The drug guy was suspicious of me (forewarned maybe?) but after two and a half hours (the meeting was only two) he gave me a lift home as my ankle bracelet was giving off alarming dangerous vibrations and scheduled another appointment for Monday. AT MY HOUSE.

This time last week there was no way on this planet I would let a strange A&D psych guy into my flat. But now I am okay with it.

I had not heard from “Legs” for the last twenty hours. You guessed it – I get a nagging email from her about getting rid of my clutter, tidying my flat and doing some positive carpentry or painting or drawing. This email arrives just as the A&D guy ushers me to his car.

It is now Friday evening. And, having done nothing all day, I am excited.

TOMORROW IS GOING TO BE CRAZY CREATIVE DAY.

I know this, I can feel it. It’s like my ADHD is in control slightly. My motivation has come back. The old feeling of having “ants in the pants” has returned.

Today was freezing. Got into bed and watched the whole of TRUE DETECTIVE. Was busy contemplating if I had annoyed legs a little too much as she had not emailed since 1am… When…. 7pm arrived and she emailed. She emailed during a very interesting little bit of the last episode of TRUE DETECTIVE where the guy basically dies, goes into a coma and then is sad and annoyed when he is woken up as he was with his dead three year old child whilst dead.

MY HIGHER POWER…

is People on the Same Wavelength. I have explained how this works elsewhere. But it is science based, not faith based.

The very fact that “LEGS” is being discussed and she emails for the first time within ten minutes shows that she is on my wavelength, and that all these “co-incidences” are mathematically not random events.

THE FIRST TIME I DIED….

Was many years ago. 26 or 27 years. This is not the second time where the out of body experience has been described….

When I died the first time it was just “stopping”. There were some drugs in my system, yes. I was laying on my girlfriends bed and just “stopped”. For a few seconds it felt like the most amazing opiate sensation. Then my mind lifted out of my head, and barely noticable in time differential, the spine and all other nerves followed suit. I can never explain this bit, but you do not feel yourself turning upside down, but every time I have had this, you are looking down at yourself, although your physical body is laying face up on the bed / floor / road / river.

And then again, I cannot explain this, but the sensation of moving AGAINST gravity (ie – UPWARDS according to Einstein) and TOWARDS a bright white light is overwhelming. Yet, the sensation is more like gently closing your eyes. So, you are moving upwards, towards a white light, whilst looking downwards. Come on Einstein. Explain time, space and this little mess then.

This is where things get interesting. That white light is filling up all your vision now. The rods and cones of your eyes tell you so. There are no gates, and unfortunately not even Clarissa Broderick in skin tight red lycra and suggestively clutching a designer pitchfork make cameo’s.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TRUE DETECTIVE.

You reminded me of something…. The white light fills everything. It is a three dimensional space with no boundaries. There are soft mumblings, which become distinct. It as if EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION IN THE WORLD OF ANY TRUE WORTH is in this white space.

I could tune in to any of these conversations. Just by paying attention, or attuning to the conversation. There were some very serious feelings. Serious ebbing and flowing. Serious waves of communication. A few conversations stopped. Although being able to understand them, I felt unable to contribute and make the conversation more worthy. There were multiple examples of this.

Although being worthy, and welcomed, a few dissenting wavelengths helped make up my mind.

To be truly happy being here with these subjects the only thing to do was to come back later.

But, hey, just a few more goes at hearing what that beautiful voice is saying. Yes, that beautiful sound – the soft pink glow to the East. The dawning of a chorus which, when proper tuning on my old transistor radio in my noggin was acheived, was signing my name softly.

Upon leaving the white space, somewhat reluctantly and still undecided as to going back for another look straight away, there was my body. Again, I could see my body, but it was very close. I knew I was facing upwards, and yet I could sense where my body was.

A little like landing a lunar craft in a very early Atari game, the final docking to get back into myself was a little skilful and took my last dying gasp of available energy.

The beautiful voice turned into a thousand decibel shreeeeeeeeakk.

The pink glow to the East turned into a blood red cheek and swollen eye.

For my girlfriend had rung 111, thrown buckets of water over me, thrown me to the floor and had been jumping up and down on me SCREAMING my name at me for minutes on end.

 

This white light is my fucken higher power.

Unreal. It took me how long to work this out again?

I am great at re-inventing the wheel. But when it was my wheel in the first place?

What a cock.

 

Outside the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts

Gabor Matè had some good advice to hand me when deciding giving up drugs was do-able and realising my ADHD issues where problematic.

He told me to read his books. This, of course, required me to purchase them. Upon reading, and having some eureka moments along the way, I have forever been bestowing the virtues of this man and his work. Subsequently he told me that “they” (yes, you – Wellington Addict DisServices and other backward thinking service providers) could not be pushed into reading his work, they would have to find it for themselves. I have been pushing them ever since. There are many examples of this working. People have been purchasing and reading this work of his. Gabor then suggested to me that “I should probably pay you a commission, but won’t…”

It is not for my gratification that I write his name repeatedly. It is to re-inforce the work he does, one more time. Although being a broke bum with no hope of real worthy capitalist employ, the meagre offerings of book sales commission from an old Jewish Addiction Doctor from Canada does hold little appeal.

One of the first thoughts around a little of his work is to be found here — CANCER IS NOT ADDICTION 

Like most of my work, this is basically sans editing. There is little proof reading and even less effort into producing a document the masses could be bothered with. However, this writing, and others, received some praise from people wanting to link to it, or publish it, if only I would re-write it… Do a spelling check… Not swear quite so much… Withdraw any possible sexual innuendo… And make more sense… Hell, did they really expect proper APA referencing?… PISS OFF, NO FUCKEN WAY. However, there were some subsequent messages from some people who take this sort of thing seriously… One comment of “hey look — this guy [doctor Bob from USA] has been reading your blog… [link]…” I should do some of these guys for plagarism. Or, at least, being on such a similar wavelength they are jamming my brain waves from producing more interesting thought process. 

GABOR talked of his addiction of compulsively buying classical music from shoppes and avoiding the issue of time, finance and the overwhelming desire of his wife to find storage space anywhere in his cluttered shrine to classical music that his wife would prefer to call a house.

GABOR went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings and displaced the “Narcotics” for his “Classical Shopping” problematic addiction.

It seemed to make some sense. Other N.A members commented that his problem and him “were in the right place”.

I have issues with right” place. Maybe “correct” place. Should fit better. Really… RIGHT and WRONG are incorrect terms… 

Which brings us, finally, to the point of this post.

addiction_tattoos_big

http://substanceforyou.com/addictions-and-compulsions-not-know-about/ 

^^^ This is the point. An article on other addictions. ^^^

My latest addiction is, most definitely, a thing of major problematic variety and appears very similar to the much maligned “Death By Duvet”.

Have not filled out paperwork under New Zealand’s Official Information of Privacy Acts to demand information from the Police and other agencies in regards to their seemingly unlawful actions.

This latest addiction could just kill me. 

Have started avoiding emails… People whom were helping me have not heard from me for a week. I feel I am letting them down. I know I am letting myself down. And yet the news show at 6:30pm – 3D #3D_TV3 – got me writing on the computer again. This 41 minutes has been good for me. But am more interested in going to bed and watching pirated MP4’s of BANSHEE and real life advert laden TV3’s WESTSIDE at 8:30. Having hacked in four thousand words last weekend discussing the dangers of home release bail compared to prison (and spent hours editing – for once the subject and writing was worthy of real effort) only to have the computer crash, I have been having very severe anti feelings to all things computer. And all things life in general to be fair.

banshee_crap

On Friday I watched SEVEN complete films, including WATERWORLD (which I quite enjoyed). This, very similar to computer game addiction, is probably very much in line with becoming dangerously and problematically depressed.

I need help. Admitting there is a problem could be the first step. The second may well be getting out of this bloody cell I am imprisoned within – me.

Unfortunately this is outside the REALM OF THE HUNGRY GHOSTS. paulAnd probably more in line with PAUL WOOD. He may just have something newsworthy to say on this… Although, this is becoming a shameless product placement, I don’t care. For PAUL was an inspiration to me in jail. Similar ages, and he held his head up against all odds during his trial and back in jail. See, I was there…

I feel the need to switch off for a few months. Being stuck at home 24 / 7 when you live alone and run out of milk is NO FUN. Not being able to see your kid is NO FUN.

Using heaps of drugs, switching off and being able to “hang in there” is less NO FUN.

My happiness deficit will diminish with the use of drugs. 

(So may the chances of me finding a life diminish equally in proportion to this drug intake)