Doom and Gloom? Impossible.


Old ARC welder that sat in a carport on Wellingtons south coast in the salty sea air for two years… Got some electrodes for ten bucks off TradeMe and was amazed the thing still worked. Just like an old Ford six cylinder, park it for years, turn it on, and away you go…


Still looking at getting MIG (gas/ageless model) so as to convert 1994 Falcon six cylinder four litre EF front end to 2004 AU3 XR6 suspension, steering, brakes, engine mounts… Will then use AU engine block with my mildly worked, cam’d and extracted 1998 Xr6 head…
Combining the new steering geometry with the large two pot brakes and my huge sway bar… Should do better than my current best 1:32 around Mansfield race track…
Just need to find a house, get a license back, and rob a bank… oh, and stay away from ludicrous amounts of drugs and addicts…

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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…
image

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.

Woke up today…

Woke up today. A normal thing to be doing. Just currently hate it.

Got up, well, sort of vertical as opposed to horizontal… Struggled to kitchen on this list*. Opened eyes to stare blindly into fridge… Pictures Saw this next to my fridge and, ADHD and DRUG ADDICTION experts will not be surprised, am now writing 700 words into WordPress instead of eating anything in the fridge.

Was stuck some place in November and drew this picture at top using paper stolen out a photocopier and a four colour pen “liberated” from an owner who did not use it (the black was almost empty) at first I only had a blue pen, thanks for the colour!

Also in November my kid must have drawn this picture at bottom (it is a calender, made by her school)… She is 12 now and have not seen her for a year almost, and will not see her, hear from her or get a Christmas or Birthday gift to her. Mum gave me this picture she drew last month.


Nothing to really look forward to.

Struggling to stay at all enthusiastic.

May be going to jail, have been evicted as “owner may want to sell”, have no where to go and have really run out of energy…… Just too much on my plate to deal with… am not coping…

Drugs and jail seem like good options when you have nothing to look forward to other than debt and stress. FRUSTRATION and being POWERLESS has lead me to be angry.

These arms are not self harm in the sense of the term.armsThey are, however, the result of hitting large windows without fear of hurting myself. This is not really self harm. No, really. It isn’t. Seriously. Fuck. Whatever… All you people with psych training can just piss right off…..

Am very lucky to be okay other than having bad bruising around ligaments and not being able to use right hand for anything without severe pain in the wrist and forearm…

Am very lucky the flying glass did not hurt anyone else too badly.

Am very very lucky these people are still talking with me….

At least via social media chat! Spent five hours from midnight on chat with the lady whom owns these windows. Guess we won’t be seeing much of each other in real life any longer. Totally fair. Cannot blame her for that. I agree. 

For she now looks at me like I am some violent criminal. God knows the Police and the local town gossip already have me fucked, but she was one who didn’t fall for their shit. She believed in me, but everything got too much. 

It is only a window.

But it is a loss far greater. 

 

Am struggling to stay on track as some people are worth staying on track for. For they have struggled too, and they care about others too. They care more about me then I seem to care for myself.

Thankful for some good friends in Wellington. Gave me money to make it home, and let me sleep off and on all day whilst they quietly stepped over me. Absolutely brilliant. I was holding back a flood of tears as he walked to my car to make sure it started at I was safely driving. My good friend from the coffee shoppe whom I care about greatly has been simply brilliant. Sure, I nag him and drag him outside his comfort zone and do all these things for him against his wishes.

He has stood by me no matter how annoying my life is for him. 

Am learning to care for myself, but still care for others first…

  • Some have headaches constantly, mine come and go.
  • Some have screwed up so badly, they don’t care and really fuck people over. I still care, just.
  • Some are content doing nothing. Am far from content, but appear to be doing nothing.

 

So, woke up today. Kind of wish I didn’t.

Coffee,
food,
a quick hug
from one of my chickens
may fix that.

For a time.


 

*LIST – noun

  1. a careening, or leaning to one side, as of a ship.

    verb
    (used without object)
  2. (of a ship or boat) to incline to one side; careen:
    The ship listed to starboard.

    verb
    (used with object)
  3. to cause (a vessel) to incline to one side:
    The shifting of the cargo listed the ship to port.
Origin 1620-30; origin uncertain
Synonyms 2, 3. tilt, slant, heel.

 

Lost

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After three full weeks with no ankle bracelet confining me to a shiity little flat in central Wellington I am lost. This young lady has been awesome, but there are always buts. Our paths cross and run parallel for whiles, but not continuously, or even long enough, to help with my feeling of lost.

Taught her to drive manual stick shift, flew in a plane, have had some excellent times. We are great together when she’s able to hang out..

Am struggling today with who I am. And the answers are blank, dull and not all that helpful.

I am not a father. I am not a drug dealer. I am not young and hot or pretty.

I almost got up and drove to Wellington to buy some methadone just an hour ago. But I don’t want to be that person.

I am a old guy and a reasonable person.

It’s not enough.

Am lost.

Moved all my stuff finally, little to no money left, and know no one living in this small place. 10Km away the young lady lives in a town of 20,000. I know only her, and she’s doing her own thing, or her family thing anyway.

Have no belief in my ability to socialise or try new things. Live a hundred metres from a great beach and have no interest in it at all.

Am lost.

Am not looking forward to finding a new me.

The path ahead looks too tiresome for this old man who has walked many similar in the past.

Feel too tired to start again all over.

But can’t go back.

Patience. If I last long enough.

When Stuck Home Twenty Four Seven

When stuck home twenty four seven you get sore, fat, depressed and a bunch of other really unhealthy sounding things. Things the powers that be probably neglect to take into account when judging you. They expect you to enter this limbo state and appear to the world that you are happy, stable in doing something with your life. What’s the point? You aren’t. You may as well just be getting really fucked up. No one is around to care. Makes no difference to anyone how you spend a few months on your own.

Surely.

textWas a little surprised when my tattooist mate contacted me earlier today. Have signed up to NETFLIX and was up until 3am watching latest series of MAD MEN and a new discovery, HOUSOS, which is bloody funny if you happen to be from New Zealand and spent a little time in Australia. Which, funnily enough, quite a few people in the near vicinity have. We were cracking up.

As it happens, getting the bottom of your foot tattoo’d is a bloody sore thing…. Who would’ve thought?

Making the world a better place, one step at a time.

fixing_back_5July2015Am feeling reasonably good right at this moment. Having started to see growth around the stomach region am considering

They didn’t warn me about that when signing the papers for Electronic Monitored Bail. Any idiot in the world would realise being trapped at home for months on end will lead to comfort eating and many many many extra hours in bed watching complete TV series or films.

Really am in a limbo.

A serious one at that.

Waiting until SEPTEMBER for next meaningful court appearance which may result in freedom from ankle ball and chain.

And that is it.

Waiting. In limbo. For god knows what.

Since Thursday I have been looking forward to tomorrow excitedly. For tomorrow is a big day… Am out the door at 10:45 to attend a Probation Service meeting at 11am.

They wanted to come here. NO FUCKEN WAY!

Jeeeeeeeezus. You are not going to come here and prevent me from having a fifteen minute walk outside the confines of this cell.

REALLY!

Just give me a little break. Just an incy wincy one.

Am sure that giving a little bit of happiness and a little chance of helping me to help myself is not that far removed from a positive thing.

How the hell the CORRECTION DEPARTMENT claim to be “reducing re-offending” with this sort of attitude is beyond any logical argument.

Love to you all.