Inquiry into Addiction Services…

DESPITE ALL THE HATERS sending emails like “cannot you believe you moan about addiction services, they work well and moaners like you should be shot” there are many many more people like me out there. Even more so disillusioned.

Work done for “Perspectives” (research and graphic display) with a very highly respected and qualified researcher for Otago Univershity convinced me that the problem was even worse than I first diagnosed. Recovery Perspectives Titlerecovery perspectives excer

You see – rightly or wrongly people feel they should not speak out. Some fear the licenses for driving will be revoked (in truth, this has been known to happen for crazy reasons…), others don’t even enrol to vote for reasons known best to themselves.

But all share something in common – the services and help they require could be improved by them coming forward, voting and putting their names behind a change.

Here is a letter I received tonight from an extremely well-respected lady, whom used to work in an office next to my girlfriend who worked in the mental health sector and first encouraged me to write the worlds shittiest blog.

Please read. Please support. Please have your say.

—————————————————-

You’re receiving this message from former Mental Health Commissioner Mary O’Hagan because you have taken action in the past on campaigns for a better mental health system.
unnamed.jpg

Dear Mr Fiendipoobum,

In today’s Budget announcement Finance Minister Grant Robertson has promised future funding for mental health will depend on the outcome of the Government Inquiry into Mental Health and Addiction.

All of us want to know there will be support available for us, our loved ones, friends and whānau, when we experience mental distress or addiction.

The Government Inquiry gives us the biggest opportunity I’ve seen in my lifetime to change the system so that no-one is turned away and everyone get more than medication.

SIGN FOR A SYSTEM CHANGE

A lot of people can’t get help when they need it. Every week I hear stories of desperate people who can’t get access into services, with mental health care facilities at capacity and not enough staff.

I used mental health services for several years as a young woman. At the time, all I got was a ‘pills and pillows’ service and grim predictions from professionals for my future.

Their predictions were all wrong; for the last 30 years I have advocated for change in mental health at the local, national and international levels, including as a commissioner at the Mental Health Commission which had oversight of the mental health system.

The People’s Mental Health Report showed the system is not working. People get too many pills, too much coercion, and not enough support to get work, housing, talking therapies, community connections, self-belief and hope for their future.

There is a groundswell of support for fundamental change in mental health and addiction and the government has said of the Inquiry that ‘nothing is off the table’.

That’s why I’ve partnered with ActionStation in asking for a system change in the way mental health is treated and talked about in New Zealand.

Sign the open submission to the Mental Health Inquiry: Open access to a full menu of services

We at PeerZone are a social enterprise run by and for people with mental distress where we develop and deliver resources and supports for our peers who have mental distress. We believe with social justice and the right kind of support all people with experience of mental distress can lead great lives.

The PeerZone team and many of our supporters have created The Wellbeing Manifesto for Aotearoa New Zealand; it starts where the People’s Mental Health Report left off, with wide-ranging and long-term recommendations, based on our lived experience. It is our submission to the Government Inquiry and I invite you to sign and support it too.

The Submission calls for all the sectors that have responsibility for wellbeing, distress and addiction — such as health, social development, justice, corrections and education — to jointly fund a full menu of services at the local level, in partnership with people affected by distress and addiction.

This menu includes:

→ personal and whānau support;
→ income, work and housing support;
→ talking therapies and treatments;
→ spiritual healing;
→ and crisis responses.

The services need to be co-delivered and working together as much as possible, in such settings as primary health facilities, marae, community centres and large workplaces.

At the same time, the workforce needs to undergo a transformation so that cultural workers and peer workers (those who have lived experience of distress and addiction) work alongside the traditional workforce with equal status and in equal numbers.

Your voice will add power to our submission for these ambitious goals. Will you sign onto our Submission to the Inquiry?

ADD YOUR NAME

Thanks for all you do,

Mary O’Hagan 
Director of PeerZone

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Naloxone hydrochloride gets a drug charge in NZ

Stupidly, given the position I was in years ago of using and living with heavy opiate fiends, NZ police found a vial of narcaine or narcan and charged me with possession of a controlled drug.

Given the fact others had over dosed in the house, including me, this drug possession could have saved lives.

In fact, a few did die of over dose. The police then took great delight in locking people up under the guise of manslaughter convictions.

Meanwhile, my life saving collection of drugs was destroyed and I was charged under misuse of drugs act.

Actively narcissistic behavior by New Zealand Police and the Prosecution service, which happens to be police in N.Z.

Naloxone info found on my tiny smartish phone…

wiki explanation of narcan

Time update on surgeon general advisory in U.S.A

Would a life have been saved if we had access to those drugs? Possibly.

Would harm have come from us having access to those drugs? Most definitely not.

Final score…

Police 3 charges, 2 convictions

Junkies -1

Innovation – Stolen, without consent…

Here is a little piece by a Wellington thinker and resident caring soul by the name of Mike Sukolski. You can tell him that I have ripped him off here… Thanks to old mate “wanda” for pointing this one out…

Image may contain: hat
Image resultStolen from Mike Sukolski

Whatever Happened To
Just Doing Something Different?

It’s as if we believe we have discovered something new, and now we can’t get enough of it, this innovation thing.

We toss it about, the word at least, like confetti.

According to my dictionary, to innovate is to bring in novelties; make changes in. Really? Well, it is an old dictionary. I got it when I was fifteen. Someone must have bought it for me, it cost thirty shillings, and where would I find thirty shillings. It still serves me well.

Being a little on the old side, however, I thought I should seek a second opinion. So I did, and got this: “to begin or introduce something new.” So there you are, I said to myself, something new, that clinches it. Couldn’t be clearer. A consensus. But is this what we do when we innovate, I said to myself, I do a lot of talking to myself. (I should know.)

Apparently we need to believe it is.

Like Mike Hosking, who believes that news reading is an “artistic pursuit,” we too need to be, or to be seen as, artists. Well, creative, anyway. With grim determination we set out to innovate, as if our lives depend on it. But why? Good question.

And the answer?

Because, in most, if not all, circumstances, we have no idea what to do next.

We wait and wait, hanging around hopefully, analysing earnestly among ourselves, until all the evidence is in, but all the evidence is never in. Never can be, even though we dedicate large sums to looking for it. There always remains the evidence that comes from actually doing the thing, and this we cannot possess, not until we have done it, and found that, after all, our big idea didn’t work.

If only we had waited until all the evidence was in. Relax! We can innovate instead!

You don’t need all the evidence when you innovate, innovation doesn’t rely on evidence, it can’t do, because there there can’t be any, not of the definitive kind, anyway, if its truly to be innovation.

Because if it is truly innovation there will be no precedents, nothing that could secure the necessary foreknowledge of success, or failure. You will be left contemplating an unscientific leap of faith. Or desperation. Or self-esteem. Which doesn’t make a good business case. It won’t impress your bosses.

Luckily, that’s not what we mean, true innovation, in fact it’s the last thing on our minds. Heaven forbid that someone would dare plunge undata-ed into unknown, potentially hostile territory. Stark naked into a shark infested pool. Leave the known world behind and risk unforeseen, if not career-ending consequences. Or worse, no consequences at all.

No, that’s not for us. Not in the real world. In our heads perhaps, yes, in our heads, we do it all the time in our heads, we get degrees in doing it in our heads, there are careers to be had doing it in our heads.

Innovation, you see, is for us nowadays an assertion of personal worth, the source of our self-esteem. And when we are all doing it together, joyfully, in teams, innovation becomes an affirmation of group worth. Truly, you can’t lose! Just tell yourself, and everyone else, that you are innovating and you can safely go ahead and do what you have always done. Nothing can go wrong.

Who will dare be the little boy wondering aloud why the king has got nothing on.

Innovation is the new orthodoxy. It doesn’t matter much what you do just so long as you say it is innovative, and your peers say it is innovative and your bosses say it is innovative and their bosses say it is innovative and the minister says it is innovative.

Thus we consummate a culture of constant change where nothing ever changes. We cannot risk real change, so we innovate instead, and heap accolades upon ourselves. Glittering prizes. Brilliant careers. Truly we are leaders!

The game is a simple one, anyone can play.  And we do, we all do, because we are innovators. Aren’t we? And innovators are never wrong. No, and as we pull our hopes down over us, like a suffocation, from within the reeking hovels of our heads we imagine a new dawn breaking, the beginning of a bold new era, and we believe, all over again we believe.

We sing patriotic songs, while the seas rise around us, the air clogs with CO2, the rains turn our fields to mud, the winds tear our houses down, and a frenzy that is very likely madness sweeps us out of our collective head, but we take no notice, on we rush, triumphantly on, innovating, innovating unto extinction.


mushy

Never a truer word spoken.

After spending some time wasting away my ill gotten gains of time and money working in the “addiction leadership group” can safely ascertain that those that be do not want change. But innovation?

Hell yeah. Give us more of that young NZFIEND.

Just don’t you dare change anything in the process.

 

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)

BELIEVE this stuff? Doubt it. Backseat driving my way through lifes odd street

Have had so much to post about recently, but so little enthusiasm for doing anything. Have cars to fix, flat to tidy, relationships to work on. Building bridges with my daughters Mum.

All this takes a back seat.

It all takes a back seat to life. 

 

Not being able to sleep on Monday night, was out walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood about 3am when there is shouts and screams from a window. Sounds as if a girl has found some rather kinky use for a vacuum cleaner, or similar. I notice some houses across the street turning lights on, and some others opening doors and sticking heads out.

The young lady making all this noise starts screaming things such as ;

  • I got a squirrel and rammed it up John Keys arsehole so hard he invoked the GSCB

  • Why am I locked in here you wankers, when I have had my tubes tied?

  • Fuck yous

  • Ring the cops, you’ll see, I’m not mad, you are. I may be insane, but you’re the mad ones

  • FUCK YOUS

Etc. Etc. Etc.

She had all the windows wide open, her door wide open, the lights on, the curtains fully pulled back and was introducing the quiet side of the neighbourhood to the reality of her life, as she saw it.

Admittedly, “Reality of her life” being ambiguous in terminology. 

There were many, many (upon many of many) onlookers to this situation. Even for this housing block, this was one for the video phones and straight people to hide their children from. Hell, I ain’t even that straight, and I would have hid my kid from it. Jeezus, would I what. 

Amongst all this carry on, I turned back towards her and down the street, crossing the road in full view, making a bee-line for her second floor window.

  • Mutherfuckers can all suck my feet, you hear me mutherfuckers?
    (quietly, almost talking volume) Hey – what are you doing out walking mindlessly?

  • Me – interrupting
    “mindlessly, how dare you….. that would presume I am not of right mind, which would en tale being of left mind. What do you have against me using my left mind?”
  • Aimlessly? I mean aimlessly…

  • Aimless? You want to call me aimless now?……
  • You look like you could be company, come up for a tea.

  • Give me a minute to put my face on. No more shouting until I get there though. Okay (puts finger to lips and shhhh’s)?
  • Will put jug on…

Twenty or thirty windows close, a few doors shut, you can hear people putting their phones down and returning to slumber.

So, 4am Tuesday morning I am spending two or three hours with a young lady whom is wearing an ankle bracelet, cannot leave house due to being on electronic bail, and her friends are all in town partying. She has drunk all the beer, swallowed all the pills and is still awake. Thankfully for her, she has found a stash of builders glue and is abusing solvents like her life depends on it.

Me, being me, is quite good in these circumstances. Not brilliant, but not bad.

I am not going to ring the police.
I am not going to prevent her from using.
Someone hell bent on their own destruction is someone with a strong will.
Taking on that will would lead to noise complaints.

What I did do was catch her when she fell. Propped her up when crashing. Talked her down from dis-pear.  Talked her up from feeling as if she was god.

We sat close staring at each other. Every time she had momentary lapse of concentration I would quickly stand up and “hide” some of the glue by throwing it out the window. Would then close the door an inch or two each time so she would not notice the door shut all of a sudden and feel trapped. She could yell fucken loud this girl. If she thought she was trapped, the neighbours would be woken again. And police would swarm.

She had moments of superb thought and clarity…

  • Hey, wow… fuck, fuck fuck……
    You are… Rehearsed. Oh my god, you’re rehearsed. 

Uhm, damn. Almost caught me out there. She would try and shock. Try to get emotional responses from me. But she would remember my eyes always making contact, always being calm, somewhat in control, slowing her down… One day she may remember she had more solvents in the house that magically dissipated too. Hahahahah. 

The look on her face after some large chugs of glue… O-M-F’ing-G. That look was becoming to be oh-so-f’ing-attractive.

O-BLIV-E-ON. Oblivion. Fucken A. Let me at it. I want what she’s having. Only make it permanent.

See, I can relate. I can empathise. I can identify.

John Savage Dapaanz Ethics BoundariesJohn Savage would probably try and teach me ethics or boundaries or something equally as pompous. I would teach John Savage to mind his own butt hole and put me on the Queens Honour Lists ahead of John Kirwin. I would teach John harm reduction has no boundaries. John would find this impossible to compute in his ever so right brain.

I left her as dawn rushed up to hit her on the head with a rather large solvent abuse headache.

I left with a bunch of people probably thinking the worst.

I left not giving a flying fuck what anyone thought…

I left proud of the idiot I am.

 

 

We are all back seat drivers in our own life.

Pity I am not even in the right car.

 

 

….

STILL BANNED FROM CCDHB etc etc

 

ccdhb

Have been onto Hospital grounds many times. This is getting stupid.

I can sit, stand, talk with Police. I can do anything on hospital grounds at all.

Other than one little thing.

As soon as I ask one little question or try discussing a persons lack of care or response they simply tell me to leave as they have called the Police.

The police have yet to turn up mind you.

I have been to a hospital building not specifically listed in the trespass order acting as official advocate for one young lady. They did exactly the same as Blair Bishop and Clarissa Broderick at Addiction (Dis)Services. That is — They followed the Capital Coast District Health Board guidelines…

  1. Ignore the advocate outright
  2. If client has properly acknowledged advocate and advocate seems to wanting to engage in a positive manner
    RING POLICE
  3. Tell client they must leave
  4. Tell advocate they must leave

This is the third time now. They tell my client to leave and my client then wants to leave for fear of losing medications or what-have-you.

I am left trespassed from all CCDHB grounds on the basis of writing this blog.

Maybe I should show them my middle finger.

A lot to think about. Not unusually.

Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked.

Recovery Perspectives Title

A post yesterday contained some graffix produced by my good self in relation to DRUG ADDICTION RECOVERY and what it means for a service provider and a service user in the environment of our absurd Recovery Industry 2.0 and the medical model of ADDICTION = [medical] DISEASE.

I use “[medical] DISEASE” purely so as not to get into tertiary arguments with people over meaning of “dis” and “ease”.
Really, go away.
No, really. Piss right off. Go tell God I am a Sinner, Left Handed Bugger.

Within the first few months of stopping, after struggling to work out whom I am (what is it we are recovering from?it was time for me to work out whom I wanted to be (what are we recovering to?….)

It is no measure of recovery to join, and blend into, a sick society.
For the millionth time, BRUCE K. ALEXANDER’s “Globalization Of Addiction” is available at most libraries now.
You should be saying “”Thanks NZFIEND. “”
“Thank me by reading it FFS.”

..”& just what
prey tell Mr Narcisist NZ Fiend
are you recovering to?”..

The worlds best Dad would be a bloody good start. Wellington’s best delinquent kids football coach. A half decent advocate for addiction (dis) services clients. A reliable friend. A good neighbour. A creative soul.

And, after that little list, maybe even become someone else’s “better half”.

But, right now? Right now I would settle for being a good Dad and creating a half decent soul.

Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked. Violence. Domestics. Kids screaming whilst Mum and Dad abuse and hit each other at 4am…. Birth Mum told to fuck off. Fists. Weapons. Sore heads. Going on drug hunts. Insane driving.

I have books and research on all these topics. From very dirty fighting techniques (had nose or ear bitten off lately?, thanks Dave Courtney) through to how to a brilliant guide on how treat your missus like shit and yet she will still cook you those fucken eggs (Once were Warriors by Alan Duff).
Spending my NZ Government sickness benefit on anything other than limited amounts of mediocre quality food for daughter and me is a big deal. Gabor Maté’s “In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts” was worth every single lost calorie. I was broke addict struggling to understand. I now understand. I am a broke addict.

This is, currently, my New Zealand. This is my Wellington Housing New Zealand environment.

Hoary Maori BBQ’s. They will get drunk, hit, complain, abuse, intimidate. All amongst themselves. But, when outside my window at 2am, it starts involving me.

Skinny arse junkies will hang out. Whine and moan. Do nothing about it in a positive manner. Start begging at my door. Therefore, involving me.

And, yet, in between it all… Some very good conversation and intellectual progress (on an occasional tertiary level – BEAT THAT!)

Yesterday, attempting to explain proved fruitless.

There were no vegetables in the vicinity. My ADHD writing, therefore, was also devoid of vegies… Quit for the day, vegetableless and fruitless.

Which is close to happening again write at this very moment.

When having less is not more.

Having more ADHD occasionally results in less. Having more PAIN. More STRESS. OBLIGATIONS.

More or less.

I can hear my Spiritual Advisor ™ cringing loudly from a kilometre away.

“JUST STOP IT”

She is probably screaming between eyes screwed shut.

DEEP BREATH. BREATHE. CENTRE. Relax. Repeat keyword. 

Click For Music, and continue to read in bliss
heyho
Time for some music.mushy Time to get on with it.
Time is hitting me in the backside.
It is beginning to itch.
I Wanna Be Well.

Quoting from above…

“Yesterday was wasted. The day before was fucked. Violence. Domestics. Kids screaming whilst Mum and Dad abuse and hit each other at 4am…. Birth Mum told to fuck off. Fists. Weapons. Sore heads. Going on drug hunts. Insane driving.”

If I was ever on a TV news show john_campbell_will_spewwithout having to be violently arrested during some outrageously fortunate (and purely co-incidental) bDSM-V’ing featuring a leather clad Clarissa Broderick ejecting me from the Mein Street Addiction (Dis)Services complex it may go something like this…

“So, you, NZFiend, had a bad day starting early in the morning of Friday..?”

Why, yes John. It was pretty lousy. Not the worst, but pretty lousy.

“Without trying to sound too much like a registered shrink of highest magnitude, could you tell me, and the viewers, more. In your own words, your own time. TV3 is tightening my budget, so just talk away. We may edit it later, but really don’t have the cash…”

Wow. You will wish you didn’t say that shortly. Just don’t pretend you’re a doctor and try to tell me your historic and incorrect views of addiction.

“You’re wasting time……”

Oh, right you are. It all started around midnight. Put a DVD on that had taken me three or four sittings to get to half way. Did I mention my ADHD issues John?

“Oh for fucksake……”

Sorry John, won’t happen again. Will try staying on track…. What was it you asked again? Ahh right. Yeahp. Riiiigggghhhtt……………

Was watching a DVD at midnight…

New Zealand endorses the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in April 2010.

Although falling asleep whilst having THE RAMONES END OF THE CENTURY DVD playing loudly on the TV, got rudely fucken awoken about 2am by some 100kg Maori biatches slapping and cursing each other. Disappointingly normal behaviour in this small enclave of under educated, yet over drugged, misfit abodes.

Unfortunately for me the human brain does not really differentiate between physical pain and mental pain. Whomever said “sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me” was either deaf or stupid. Or, most likely, selling some sort of religion with large tithe’s.

Other peoples stuff effects us. How can it not?

At two in the morning someone must have rung noise control or police or something. After yelling out the window for them to “please quieten down your over assertive use of language” peace was restored.

“Honestly, that is the most shit story I have ever heard………”

Sorry John, you’re quite right…. An hour later, after sleeping some more and hearing some quite funny tough guy Te Reo along the lines of ….

Ay bro, fucken sum1 narkd on uz cuz. fuk if i fiund owt hooo da fuk narkd on uz cuz. gonna fuk dem up broz. fucken a cuz. yo fuk wotch.” (those who know the awesome sound of real Te Reo will be astounded to know these Maori speak closer to L.A Gang, but with the rythum and speed of Bob Marley on valium. Try this for an example…. NZ, you rock!)

… the mummy and the daddy start slapping each other in the apartment just across from mine. Kid is screaming. Everything is turning to shit. This happens very often. Cops may have arrived. Punches may have been thrown.

I don’t know what happened. I just turned up my favourite Jew gone bad and listened to some good lyrics…

“You mean Jesus? The jew gone bad, right? Out-stanndd-ingg”

You old git. You know damn well I meant Jeffry Hyman of Queens, New York whom became JOEY RAMONE?

Stop trying to upset me John… The DVD stopped and you could not block out the noise. Hearing kids screaming and slapping and punching going on is not good.

And then my head went to other places. My own upbringing. At least this kid knew its Mum and Dad. At least he knows his heritage. He will probably turn out better than me.

I text my Mum with “Not even so much as a text or facebook for your only son and grand kid over Christmas and New Year?

She replied very rudely with some good lines about “get off your high horse“, “anger management classes“, “I will send your daughter something for her birthday”

FUCKEN WHAT?World of Wearable Arts

My own “mum” doesn’t tell me she is in Wellington staying at a motel just down the road for the WORLD OF WEARABLE ARTS SHOW and goes home without even a cuppa with her only offspring… This “mum” who… Well… Fuckit. I am over it.

She finishes the text by saying “DO NOT REPLY“.

Fuck you Mum. Here’s twenty replies. Inclusive of ten variations on “fuck off and die” and ten with variations of “if you go behind my back and contact my child I will actually be angry.”

Don’t know how much you believe in attachment theory and how it relates to ADHD, but there are many and comprehensive studies suggesting such things. Check out my own thoughts in LEFT HANDED IS A CURSE FROM THE DEVIL

So, the day got off to a good start. 

May save the stories about driving, drug quests and others for another day. More likely, they will never see the light of day. But, then again….

“Wonder if the TV3 executives will resort to crowd funding to get this crap edited…………”

Funeral today are ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.  Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen... Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

Funeral today are ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.
Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen…
Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

My mate died recently. He really liked the Ramones too. Another mates ex missus was mates with this mate. Another mate, whom lives in the apartment two over from me, knows this other mate. Our mate plays in a band. And the other mate is an old bikey gang guy. Another guy has heaps of dodgy tattoo’s and has spent years in jail.

Ooops. Come to think of it. Pretty much everyone in this story has dodgy tattoo’s, jail time and very few teeth. Other than the band member guy. Even the girls in this story have no teeth and shocking tattoo’s. Even tho they are still sexy as all buggery.

“Your Spiritual Advisor ™ will whip your ass for that comment…”

I will deal with that, thanks [winks]…

Years ago someone was murdered. The kids of this person had attachment problems all right. Mainly due to the plain fact their caregiver was now dead.

Pavlova is a meringue-based dessert named after the Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova.[2] It is a meringue cake with a crisp crust and soft, light inside, usually topped with whipped cream and fruit.[1] The name is pronounced /pævˈloʊvə/ or /pɑːvˈloʊvə/, unlike the name of the dancer, which was /ˈpɑːvləvə/.[3][4][5] The dessert is believed to have been created in honour of the dancer either during or after one of her tours to Australia and New Zealand in the 1920s. The nationality of its creator has been a source of argument between the two nations for many years, but formal research indicates New Zealand as the source. Picture from http://www.annabel-langbein.com/recipes/fantasy-pavlova/62/ whom NZFIEND was photographed with and used in brochures for local community help groups. Just saying.

My mates other mates mate mate sells some crystal meth from time to time. My other mates mate mate ex-missus was being put down. So my mates mate went and had a word to my other mates old mate. One guy was acting pretty cool, getting pavlova out the fridge and sitting there eating loudly.

Rather than try and explain “mates mate mate” we will simply say “person A” huh?

A was eating loudly being the man
B was sitting elsewhere
was sitting there
was my mates mate (oops) with a bit of a grudge.

A had been saying a few things about C ending up like the murdered person whom was murdered about fifty metres away from where I am writing this…

D did not like A for selling shitty drugs. D also goes way back with C.

A started acting all strange, hitting D‘s knuckles with his head whilst laying in a foetal position on the ground doing something similar to crying. A fifty year old biker with jail tattoo’s all over him was laying on the ground hitting his head repeatedly into the floor and D‘s closed hand when an even stranger thing happened.

B came out of nowhere and at about that time a hammer hit the back of D‘s head.

Personally, I have purchased shitty drugs from the area before too. Having consumed them with the dead guy – although still alive at the time – the dead guy then didn’t want to pay me for the drugs he consumed with me. The dead guy knew A too. The dead guys house contained some metal artifacts capable of projecting projectiles rapidly in a forward motion. Some of these things may, or may not, have been pointed at good old NZFiend during some disputes that followed. Only made peace with dead guy a few months before his death. Person C may have been at his deathbed. Person D … Well..Knowing him as well as I do… Really asking him to go easy on person B. Even employedperson as a builders labourer. He was useless with a hammer. Which shows in the lack of impact he had on D‘s shaved head.

 should really not have done this. B is in no way a tough guy. Hell, he can hardly swing a hammer. He has trouble enough brushing his own hair.

Yet, hair we have it. Gave B a lift home from the supermarket after getting a tattoo done last week. He really should not have got involved with all the other mates mates mate mate problems.

The other mate matey mate (D) is more of a genuine tough bastard. He is now not happy, understandably, with having a hammer dropped on his noggin.

Personally, I can totally relate to this. Having been hit from behind with a 4×4 foundation post, a three foot long plumbers crescent, a hammer and a bottle. After being stabbed. After being on wrong end of guns… Well. I feel D‘s pain and annoyance. At least it wasn’t the police with the guns mate. They are the scariest bunch of people when they get their tools out. They are not calm. They are, frankly, a danger to themselves and the public at large.

So, after all this, D gets E to contact good ol’ NZFIEND and look for some crystal meth’. I drive there. I drive here. I drive every-bloody-where. I don’t ask for money. It is a good deed.

Part of my HARM REDUCTION strategy. Harm reduction of a most grass roots nature. Something that the doctors and idiots at chemists, doctors offices, drug treatment centres and N.A would never understand.

For I really do care. 

Doctors and addiction centre workers… Workers the world over… They do not understand that lives like mine do not revolve around set routine. I do not get up at 7am, go to the office, and come home five or six days a week. Collecting medication at an exact amount, at an exact time will not work for us. Complete abstinence will not work for us.

Engraving of Hippocrates by Peter Paul Rubens, 1638

Drugs, when and how we need them. Just like any person in the world. The opportunity for us to be part of this normal medical model was taken away from us the moment we presented with “addiction” or “dependence” issues. We show up in need of painkillers with a bone sticking out our skin and they will only give us panadol. Did these people ever read the Hippocratic oath“First do no harm” (Latin: Primum non nocere) originated with the 19th-century surgeon Thomas Inman, not the good old Hippocrate at all.

Most drugs are given on a “take two pills, when and if required” basis. As soon as you’re an addict, or mentally deficient in the eyes of the capitalist medical system, you must take EXACTLY 51mg’s of this and 62mg’s of that at 8:57am. Forget the fact that you are busy one day. And sitting on your arse another. You are awake all night dealing with girls and drama one night. The next tossing, and sometimes turning, yourself to sleep and you don’t wake until midday. After that you have to drive to the middle of nowhere to comfort an overdose victims grieving sister for a day. You miss your 8:57am appointment with the drug hander over people and you get into trouble……

HEY, ARE YOU AWAKE?

“zzzzzzz…… zzzzzzzzzzzz…. wh-whatt? oh shit….. En-thrallll-innnngggg…..”

Here I am. Here we are. I have been having very little sleep this week. A lady came over one night resulting in about one hours slumber. Then various parties in near apartments. Then I had to look after a girl whom turned up at midnight, just as going to bed. And that meant no sleep, no sex, no drugs. No rock n roll. Just listening and making appropriate noises until the men with the white coats could take her away. Advocacy and caring is not for me full time John. I take it too seriously. Then… Well… Whatever. You get the picture.

“If a picture told a thousand words, would it shut you up?……”

Now now John. Here’s $5 for some video editing time…. Can we blank out all the references to real people John?

“What, all that crap wasn’t just made up……”

No, John. That isn’t even the half of it.

“Fac-sin-nate-innnngggg….  I was afraid of that……”

Now defunct meeting that resulted in drama and me deciding for the third time to tell N.A to get stuffed.

Now defunct meeting that resulted in drama and me deciding for the third time to tell N.A to get stuffed.

(anonymous is something Narcotics Anonymous should actually practise – they could learn from me John… When  saying “My mates mate mate mates cousins mate ex girlfriend….” you would never guess I am talking about the girl whom is arriving on a bus and staying the night tonight.)

Sorry John, that has to be the end of the stories for now. I need to find some way of getting veges for the dinner she is cooking.

These stories make me think.

And that is not such a bad thing.

“You reckon?……”

The day was not fucked. The day was an experience.

My input, help and mitigation helped others experience of that day be less harmful. Without being able to talk about so many things, I am proud of some things that day.

Not so much the dealings with my undiagnosed mother.

And how all this helped me become a slightly better Dad? 

God Knows.

I believe in miracles…. Ramones again.
For I have made a ringing noise in my ears get louder and my ability to hear even less during the course of writing these three thousand words. http://youtu.be/V1VczvVrD_I