Dairy of how to become a junky ADHD mess…

Anyways…Work it out for yourself…

Was going to ring you earlier but then just went to bed again… Been spending more than the usual amount of time in bed recently. It is the time of year for it – nothing to worry about. Just a little cold and winter bringing onset a wee depression, no doubt.

Promised Mum I would make her a new compost bin as Dad is dying slowly along with the rotted out fence she has been piling compost against for two decades.

Aren’t we all. Dying that is. His clock took on a new rhythm for a while recently… Just to be clear, this was not a old sixties dance hall classic number. More drumb and base poured into a blender with Motorheads final Ace Of Spades renditions…

Went down to Mum n Dads to measure up previously mention compost bin… To be made from wood, with my own hands. Would prefer to cut one from alloy and weld nowadays. Am enjoying my new tools and skills always need sharpening. Tools need sharpening and new skills? Half a dozen of one, six of the other. Some shit anyway…

Told Dad I was being operated on within four weeks of the doctor seeing my bum. Dad, as usual, without fail, without preamble, without thought for anyone outside his one square foot of universe,

“they have always got me in real quick, like the time I showed up with…..”

(sure,
my judgement and memory may be clouded
with time, space and
interesting neurological experiments gone awry
nonetheless, seems like this is a reoccurring theme one cannot discount my memory and feelings as completely inaccurate)

“Dad, they only get you in quick if there’s emergency or something serious” was the somewhat necessary interruption.

Yet still he carried on about HIS operations.. Oblivious to fact, his fiction weighing heavily on the judge and jury of his own mind.

Having actually had more operating table excursions over my fourty years younger span of life, he doesn’t bother to remember anything about my issues, health or happiness. Nor, it seems, going so far as to suggest others problems have been trivial.

When he sees me wince with pain just standing still he says “oh, your back is getting like mine, hahahaha”. Yeah right, like he has had emergency spine surgery and pissed and poo’d himself walking to the hospital… Fuck he is such a self centred fuck…. Unbelievable… This is going to require a breath, a thought of something happy and a lot of self restraint. Would be nice to have that loverly Clarrissa here with some restraints, but she was already booked and tied up elsewhere…

So he tells me all about HIS for the hundredth time in as many visits. Tiresome in itself.

Interruption time again….

Must record one of these conversations. You may, even the most die hard retard apologist among you,  be sympathetic to that at least. He sure ain’t.

“So, you have any idea why they would get to me so quickly?” 

“I presume as they are quiet at the moment and I was seen in that amount of time after a doctor saw my collapsed viens in my……”

WTF? Are you serious? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuckme, fukme, f’me….. Relaaaaaaaxxxxxx…. He may be just about dead and nothing is going to change the guy now, even if he did think anything about himself and his life was not perfect.

FUCK UP DAD , NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU.

(well, I tried. Honest)

Dad, chastised for once. Not a pretty sight as it happens…
“I never said it was about me”

DAD, EVERYTHING YOU HAVE SAID IS ABOUT YOU. NOT ONE SINGLE GENUINE QUESTION, OR SO MUCH AS EVEN FAKED INTEREST IN WHAT IS GOING ON FOR ME. AM BEING OPERATED ON TUESDAY MORNING JUST FOUR WEEKS AFTER A DOCTOR SAW THE LUMP IN MY BUTT CHEEK DAD. THAT WOULD SUGGEST IT IS IMPORTANT, WOULD IT NOT?

“I don’t know son, they see everyone as fast as they can…”

Remaining the calmest possible, given fourty years of this sort of conversation… Hell, you people reading it are bored of it already. Imagine the effect this has on a kid growing up, or indeed the fourty year old man still trying to grow up…

THE FUCKEN SPECIALIST GUY I AM SEEING AT HOSPITAL IS THE SAME GUY WHO TREATED YOUR DAUGHTER

(funnily enough, also known as my sister, who died of Cancer May7th a few years ago aged less than me)

“Oh yes, he seemed nice… Although your sister argued with him, he knows his stuff. Top guy, really really clever…” …OMG

Really not bothering to remain calm in face of this much narcissistic stupidity DAD, WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE SEEING THE SAME GUY AS KATE ? WHY WOULD THEY OPERATE ON ME SO QUICK ? WHY AM I BOTHERING TO TELL YOU THIS AT ALL ?

 

“I don’t know Tony, they are a good hospital though…..”

 

Oh for fucksake, if he wasn’t already on the waiting list for the cremation table I would kill this bloody idiot…

DAD, THEY THINK I HAVE FUCKEN CANCER FOR FUCKSAKE. WHY ELSE WOULD I BE SEEING THE FUCKEN CANCER SPECIALIST? THEY *DO NOT* GET YOU INTO OPERATING ROOMS IN THIS BROKE ARSE HEALTH SYSTEM IN FOUR WEEKS FROM FIRST SEEING A DOCTOR WITHOUT IT BEING DEEMED IMPORTANT.


Just in case he managed to avoid the point (as proven, he is quite bloody well capable)

 

THEY THINK I HAVE CANCER DAD. But I don’t. The really really really clever people and their two times through the MRI, the X-Ray, the Ultrasound, the various specialists including a muscular skeletal guy have it wrong.

However, I am going in Monday to sort out the procedure and am in Tuesday to have half the weight of my right arse cheek cut out… Will be good to get the bloody thing out. Even though it’s not cancer, it is annoying me more and more recently…

 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell us?”

 

FUCK ME.

 

Work it out yourself. Seriously.

 

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.

Why on earth is life like this?

Life is not of this earth. Scientology has a point, if they are a couple of Boeing 727’s and an H Bomb short of a real off world picnic.

The real people whom are not of this planet are politicians denying people a quality of life.

People like Clarissa Broderick and the CCDHB Addict Disservices whom seem to make things worse for those at the bottom. I have had time to think recently. Twenty hours a day locked in a 2.5 x 4m concrete box does that to a guy with half a brain.

All the annoyance, all the unjust treatments. All the people whom have died with needless pain. Some have been my friends. Some have not.

I wish #LecretiaSeales had been. I wish we could all be as capable in putting forward our little beefs and ideas for our planet spaceship. It is all about evolution. To be a true Darwin follower you need a decent revolution.

Lecretia Seales, 1973-2015

http://lecretia.org/the-kindness-of-strangers/

I am saddened doubly to say I am stuck at home on 24/7 G.P.S monitored ankle bracelet and cannot attend funeral today. I would have been at the back. I would have done nothing. I would have known no one.

I just really want to show my respect.

I respect her greatly. 

Being outspoken and attempting to change old (ancient) attitudes towards the rights of the individual to have a say in their own quality of life is a noble thing.

So, for today, this is the only post I make. Even though there is so much to share after having just been released from jail to live at home 24/7 with a G.P.S ankle bracelet. 

For today is Lecretia’s day.

Even if the law makers and judges don’t give a fuck, I wanted to show that I do.

Gap or no gap.

Lecretia would have seen this ferry (in the video) everyday by looking out from Island Bay too. I grew up here. We are almost exactly the same age. The background photo of this silly graphic was shot by me roughly seven years ago when my kid was taken away from me and I went to jail. Life is a happiness deficit full of co-incidence.

http://www.ves.org.nz

STILL IN JAIL. And Family Court has taken my child away again. ANGRY BIRD

Still in jail.

Got served paperwork from family court saying all access to daughter has been removed and there is a hearing today, 5th June.

legal beagle

The papers state they were to be served NO LATER than the 15th MAY and that the court required proper filings by way of lawyers and legal beagle five working days before this hearing.

Given that it was a long weekend due to the most honourable Queen having her bloody birthday knees up, this means that the papers (via legal beagle) had to be there LAST WEEK. The Corrections Department is not known for letting people out of jail to get their witnesses and supporting documents from electronic devices (such as my phone and computer!) Hell— I dislocated my shoulder in late may and was told the doctor would see me next week. Really. Hahahahah. Rolls eyes at that one.

The Family Court Hearing is on Friday 5th June as ordered by the DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, DISTRICT COURT BUILDING, BALANCE STREET, WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND.

Have been in custody since 5th of May as ordered by the DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, DISTRICT COURT BUILDING, BALANCE STREET, WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND. but they could not find me to serve notice for four weeks and then broke their own laws in the process.

MY HEAD HURTS.

I would be a good Father if only I were allowed!

ORIGINALLY POSTED for NZFIEND by his coffee mate :-\ as he WAS IN JAIL AT TIME OF

…. an awesome morning with the football …

Had an awesome morning with the football team Saturday.

Car had broken clutch cable and tried to borrow two others. Long story was that they both died right outside their owners houses….

So, I RODE MY BLOODY MOUNTAIN BIKE TO PORIRUA FROM WELLINGTON. That is a fair hilke, so I cheated. A bag of footballs, a bag with boots, tops and gear…. And a mountain bike. 21km with a few uphills in the middle. Uhm – At 7am saturday morning with my dodgy spine? Not likely. So – TRAIN to Porirua from Wellington… Bike up hill… And…

FIRST ONE THERE.

2015_5_2_field

Beauty morning for it. Just after 8pm and the artificial turf out the back of the old forensic unit at the mental hospital looked stunning. Nothing like the problems the area was known for twenty years previously.

The kids started turning up, and I admit to being a little nervous after the events of the last week with the mother of my daughter proving beyond all reasonable doubt that she is a vindictive idiot and not actually even interested in paying lip service to her daughter spending time with her dad any longer. GROAN.

So, the kids were arriving, the parents were supportive, and I just got on with it. Rubbed one of the other coaches up the wrong way, but by relinquishing the role of “referee” they allowed me to break the rules and spend time on the field helping out my wayward team. The autistic, adhd, deaf and blind people lead by this one eye’d ginga did pretty well. Running around on the field and coaching whilst the game is underway should be allowed at this level. The kids really started working well with it…

One kid is great at being goalie, but I like seeing him out the field too. Hell, it was a great morning. My daughter was there complaining she was injured and attempting to play at half speed. This got her little sympathy, she is quite capable of playing. I know her better than people realise. She listened and ran. She listened and passed. She won player of the day.

Apart from her Mum had told the people whom gave her a lift to the game that I was going to steal her so they were not to let her travel or stay with me. Stupid, but that’s that. After 11 years of this crap, my daughters PLAYER OF THE DAY award was given to a girl who played right back as she had improved so much from the week previous.

Somewhat taken aback, the centre forward who scored all our goals looked annoyed. He will win it, bit today he didn’t listen to the coach and we could have won 4-3 if he had passed the ball on the inside to my daughter instead of trying to run through another three defenders all by himself.


DEMLEGS award for the player who ran to places to support her mates went to a young girl who plays left back. Really brilliantly. She listens, unlike most of the guys… She sprinted back on defence and cut some players down…

The award "DEM LEGS" is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

The award “DEM LEGS” is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

After the awards were handed out one of the kids Dads decided to ask if he could say something. “Of course”, I nodded at him. It was the centre forwards Dad… An nice American chap of very very very high esteem in the Wellington political arena….

“I, and all the other parents and supporters, have seen you improve EVERY SINGLE GAME and do you know why that is?”

Sensing impending embarrassment there is a prompt interruption from my good mouth – “Yes, it is due to spending MORE TIME TOGETHER as a team…” wink wink, nudge nudge…

“I, uhm, yes, quite correct. Uhm. Other than that, we really have to cheer your coach, NZFiend….”

Oh crap. Knew that was coming. A couple of Mums and Dads come up and ask quietly if I am okay and what is going on after the dramas during the week with my daughter being taken away and her mother and step dad punching me in front of the team…. I just say “it will be all right… It has to be…” and they nod, not fully believing…

WE DREW 3 – 3

Which, after 8-3 and 6-0 losses is very exciting!!!!

Happy times.


So, the sun is up, the kids have gone and there is another game being played. The same age group, but these kids train four times a week as part of an academy. And boy does it show.

These eleven year olds are playing better looking footy than the Phoenix. But, even then, the left winger listens to my advice and runs when suggested. He does a lot better and looks over to see if I have noticed. I wink and walk off.

He’ll probably never see me again.

But I will remember that little red head with the bullet left foot from the Tawa area. He may just go places with the right coaching and staying in school.


As for me? Feels like the only places I am capable of going are court or jail.

Football training tomorrow night. Really doubt my daughter will be there. Sadly I have no life at all outside of my daughter and football. Something which the vindictive are trying their best to take away.

Police, kids Mum and Family Court vs Me and my belief that I am capable of good.

Guess I’m fucked. Nothing better to do with my whole weekend than ride the whole way back to Wellington.

Which I did.

And now my spine is telling me off for it.

Tomorrow will put a new clutch cable in car. And not go anywhere near my kids Mums house.

FOOTBALL. Making me broke.

Told the kids that if someone took a corner kick, and someone else headed it into the goal I would buy everyone a chocolate bar. Thought I would be pretty safe… NOPE, a little 10 year old kid took a corner kick, landed it just in front on penalty spot where another ten year old was running EXACTLY as I had told them. And BOOOM… Beautiful header straight into the goal. Unreal. Stoked. Happiest guy, me.

And then I do this thing where I stand still and get the kids to boot the ball at my face. If they hit my face they get $5. The same guy who took the corner drove a shot beautifully right into my nose and top lip. I did lift a hand and punch the ball so it hit him back in the head. But hey, NO ONE has ever managed it before. And he had only started to learn drive shot technique two days ago with me. He also refused to kick with his left foot as it “was useless”. He is now, after just three or four hours with me and the team, using his left foot to chip and drive. Hasn’t got swinging or spinning the ball well yet, but—–

Teaching kids things and seeing it work is awesome.

Stuff what the parents think of me bossing their sprogs around.

My kid ended the training session when the other team played the ball too far in front and into her path. We had no goalies, but she put the ball into the exact middle of the goal, bouncing it on the goal line from about fourty metres. She just turned 11. Some parents and kids were surprised. Comments like “wow, there will be a few interesting goals this season” came from a few of the more knowledgeable crowd. I was more disappointed that the other team had given her the ball.

The team with the ball has the fun. So, once they stop giving it to the other team and find their own players, the coach stops interrupting and the parents may start understanding. Or not.

But hey, sometimes the kids have to actually have fun. And they manage to, despite the coaches constant interruptions.

By managing to spot some skills in each of them, we have a good little team structure. The autistic kid runs and tackles like a demon, so he has total license to run everywhere in defence. And boy, at training last night he did well. Just getting him to last a whole game could be difficult… Bloody proud of the little guy. He is fitting in well.

You know when I was a kid, the different ones got left out or teased. Nowadays kids seem to be more aware of others mental issues. I have seen almost all the kids cater to others difficulties. My daughter even gave a child a present once. Even though he had stolen her stuff and was a pain in the arse. She figured he wasn’t getting proper attention at home so was playing up and just needed to know people at school actually noticed him. My daughter was ten at the time. 

So, I have my work cut out getting these guys to work as a team.

Kicking the ball forwards all the time, even though the other team gets it, is an issue.

“HEY EVERYONE. This is a bit like life. If there is a big mountain in front of you, what do you do? If you are walking through a city and a building is in your way, what do you do?”

Ten year old boy looks up, a look of “WOW” on his face and says “you go around them”.

“Yeahp, dead right. See that player behind you, that player has a way around the team in front. You don’t. That player should have the ball”

Some of the kids really started passing backwards, even though that is not what comes naturally.

We will win some games early this season. A bunch of small individuals working together to put a stupid ball in a silly net. Feeling proud of themselves and happy to see their mates and their parents giving them attention of the best sorts.

And the coach? Well. When kids do what he says and it works, he’s the happiest guy there. He may hide it until later, but the improvements in skills, running and positions does not go unnoticed. When kids do something awesome and they look at you for approval before they look at their parents it shows you’re appreciated.

Had a bath and went to sleep after last nights training feeling good. This should work out okay.

Even though meeting with the CCDHBDSM ADHD SPECIALIST tomorrow has my undies in a twist.

(they imported someone from Europe whom wants drug urine samples from me and has made me fill out a drug and alcohol self assessment… the writing is on the wall here. I think I am going to be shafted somehow this time tomorrow…. Even the mother of my daughter thinks I am vastly better with the ritilan than without. Which is true in the sense of dealing with kids and parents whom are from a different planet than mine…. Ah well.)

Kids football training leaves my back fucked. May just go get my back tattoo’s worked on and forget about everything.

..

Most of the kids I trained last year are in a team three divisions above us in the grade 11 leagues. If we win a few games and win one or two by big margins, we should be up in their league by the end of the season.

WHERE I REALLY WANT TO BEAT THEM
AND
THEIR NEW FLASH FANCY PANTS COACH!!!!

Me? Competitive at footy? Nah… Never.

First game this weekend.

http://tickets.fifanz2015.com/shows/showtickets.aspx?sh=FIFA3W&v=FFW&p=EFWC0000003W

Cauda Equina, but it’s all about the Football and N.A meetings, of course (splutter)

Am useless and down on myself quite a bit.

Cannot move my car parts, engines and the odd whole car out of peoples properties, can’t work on my cars and am sick of it. Seems that as soon as I start getting on top of things, the damn spine is out to get me. Evil bloody thing it is. Not that is entirely my fault the spine is crap in the first place. Who would have thought multiple motorbike crash at various speeds, including some quite high – (see what I did there, two birds with one stone and all that?)…

na_logoWent along to an N.A meeting two days ago. Was in the neighbourhood to visit something five foot ten, with legs and arse that would challenge mine for looking good in a tight black skirt (yeah yeah, send all the abuse, criticism and scoff all you like. Do your worst… Be imaginative. Draw some pictures even) when a bloody snobby nosed prick in a BMW cut me off. My god he was driving slowly. I thought BMW was the “ultimate drivers machine”. It turns out the boffins at Berlin Motorworx marketing department would not get their capitalist yearly pay increase by using a factual statement such as “BMW – ultimately for old drivers with heart machines”. One of these old geezers with a pace maker cut me off, and before I could control my middle finger, the old geezer turned out to be a character known to the good likes of I and Wellington in general. The N.A meeting is very near my friends house so, unlike me (for those not capable of reading sarcasm, that was a little example) I sidetracked to the meeting he was going to. It was a guys first birthday. Other people were there aplenty. Having met most of them before, I was not surprised when the first speaker babbled on with no discernable point at all for 13 minutes. He did this in his “bed time story” voice the ladies like. For there were some ladies present. The one opposite me openly scowled at me. She is the one whom always questions me about having had sex with a couple of N.A girl members and whom never says hello. I even say hello to her – she ignores me and puts me in my place with that nose turn up that only girls whom think their station in life is higher than yours can accomplish with any authority. But then she see’s me talking to a couple of guys she really fancies and comes up, all bouncy and smiley and says “HI NZFIEND”. So, I say “I’ve said hello already” and she gets all shitty with me. Odd world.

I kind of needed an N.A meeting– Have been taking way less than all the pain medications they are prescribing, but still. Am not in a great place. Have not seen my daughter for six days and it has been easter. I love easter and hunting eggs with my kid. Easter is the one time remembered as us kids being treated equal in my role as adopted sibling. (Not that Mum or Dad will ever acknowledge this)

So, am in pain, taking a few opiates and am quite bloody touchy and sensitive. If it happened to be my one year clean birthday I would have liked to have been asked to speak at the meeting. But the chairperson got “Mr Slow and Pointless” to open and then got “Mr Complete Do what I say, not what I do” to close the meeting. Birthday boy has shared with me many times how he hates the guy doing the closing speech.

My head is telling me —

ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE STILL SO FAR UP THEIR OWN ARSES THEY ARE NOT EVEN THINKING OF OTHERS IN THIS SMALL CLOSED GROUP. HOW CAN THEY THINK OF THE COMMUNITY AT LARGE, THE PLANET OR IMPROVING THE HUMAN CONDITION?

Seriously, that is what I am thinking. One guy sitting in front of me, whom is pretty much always the first to jump in and shout out “Hi, I am ______, and I am an addict” as soon as the chairperson opens the floor for the general riff raff to speak, jumps in to speak before the chairperson has even finished the last remnant syllable of “the floor is now open…” He talks about a guy who tried to commit suicide by jumping in front of a bus.

This guy tried to commit suicide by jumping in front of a bus” says this guy “the thing was, the bus was doing ZERO KILOMETRES AN HOUR.” (pauses whilst waiting for the hordes to errupt into thunderous laughter for his astounding comedic speech and subject matter are deserved at none less than the Royal Gala. Or, perhaps, more Ricky Gervias at the Acedemy Awards. Taaaaa-dddddaaaaaaaa, thump. A couple of snickers from the more emotionally deprived members, and a sneaky smile from the lady sitting opposite who maybe quite cannot get her head around the fact I do not find her appealing and have never made a move on anyone at N.A. Ever. Full stop.)

This sharer continues to tell us the tale of the guy who stood in front of the bus screaming that he wanted to be run over, and the bus driver would shout at him to get out the fucken way. According to the speaker this was worthy of humour as it was a rather interesting “game of chicken where neither was moving at all” (again, thankfully, the meeting did not erupt into fits of laughter). “It was over when this suicide guy sat at the side of the road with his head in his hands crying his eyes out. Everyone on the bus laughed at him. But I didn’t

As the meeting had been showing signs of being about empathy I could not suppress a cough of the most incredulous nature at this. Only just managing to resist the urge to interrupt and tell the room what wankers they were for not helping others (they say stuff like “I don’t want to get involved helping so-and-so because it will not help me with my recovery), I made sure I was next to share.

For those really interested in their own recovery – Please define, very carefully what you are recovering from, and what you are recovering to. Simple answer is to be a better person in all regards, and all your affairs. Being so self centred and greedy for your own recovery that someone actually kills themselves or goes back to drugs due to you turning your back on them makes you a complete asshole. 

Hi, NZFIEND, Addict“, as usual not waiting for the “HI NZFIEND“, I just pile on the next paragraph…. “Happy Birthday… blah blah blah… If I was on that bloody bus, I would have empathy (really identified, to be fair) with the guy and would have GOT OFF THE BLOODY BUS AND TALKED TO HIM. Just five minutes out of my day to see if he could be pointed in a better direction. MAYBE HE NEEDED A BLOODY N.A. MEETING? I would have been five minutes late to this meeting by getting off the bloody bus and maybe helping out a guy intent on suicide.

Amanda Cumming Suicide by BUS

But the N.A meeting doesn’t care. I am talking quickly and making many points. They cannot comprehend. NZFIEND must be totally fucked up on drugs. He is not thinking of others by talking quickly and getting through many subjects – it is a large meeting and many many people want to share – NZFIEND is just wasted on drugs, not “in recovery” and, therefore, not worth listening to.

Is SUICIDE worse than DRUG ADDICTION? Can you possibly be “in recovery” from suicide? How about looking at people worse off than you. No one is ever going to be perfect. No one is ever going to “recover” from addiction. You are always “in recovery”. But that doesn’t mean you are no longer a self centred ass wipe. I would ask AMANDA CUMMINGS for her point of view, but – oh damn – too late. She killed herself by stepping out into the path of a bus. 

They cut me off after three minutes thirty. But, didn’t I just hear Mr Sloth himself talk about nothing in a bed time monotone for thirteen minutes? Here I am telling the world how teaching kids football soccer is actually teaching them all about life, and the chairperson cuts me off in no uncertain terms.

Luckily I have just enough feeling left in my legs to walk out sans stumbling.

HAHAHAHAHA.
You know that is the best thing..
Knowing your legs have gone numb, you might fart and piss yourself standing up, but managing to make it out the door without losing too much dignity?!
In their eyes, probably just drunk. Or totally fucked up on something. Or something.

So, the group of N.A people close ranks and exclude the acknowledged fuckwit once more. I sure hope Mr Savage doesn’t rip off anything I said and claim it as his own in the future (as he has in the past…) Someone should teach him some ethics.

But even with all that failing, and feeling completely down on myself…  I go visit the tall blonde lady, whom gets a few of the N.A boys reversing their cars when they spot her legs. Really don’t think they were reversing to say BYE BYE NZFIEND. But, maybe they were….. A nice young lady I know cheers me up when one N.A guy says “what’s up NZFIEND” and I say “nothing.”…. She says “NOTHING INDEED, YOUR COCK IS NOT UP MY ARSE, COME ON, HURRY UP, LET’S GO” and started slapping each other on our relatively lightly clothed bottoms….

So, was starting to find my natural silly sense of humour and twinkle. Rapidly. Being in too much pain for satisfying hanky panky, home beckoned loudly.

Received a text or two, an email, a phone call. From parents of kids in my football teams. Some from last years team. Some from parents of kids I have not met from this coming winter team.

Cauda EquineThey know the coach is “bit sore”. They don’t know about Cauda Equina
http://www.spine-health.com/…/lower-b…/cauda-equina-syndrome
or how lucky their coach has been throughout his life of non stop stupidity. 

They know the coach has had issues of various kinds, they know he speaks his mind, he has always been up front and honest with them and their kids. He is not afraid of anyone when it comes to standing up for his team, or the players of teams they come up against.

The parents have sent odd messages such us “damn, our kid, xxxxx, is not in your team, hope he has a great coach like last year“… “my girl is a bundle of fun and energy, but no one can ever teach her anything, for some reason she really get’s you, she has learnt she can apply herself, THANK YOU” … “we owe you Tony for all your hard work and dealing with those awkward parents“….

People say it is not just about the football. I say it is.

If I can teach a totally autistic kid, who does not communicate, how to kick a ball reasonably well in a two hour training session with other kids, I reckon that my life is bloody well okay after all. And the kid is genuinely happy, encouraged and proud of coping with something new. His Mum has been in contact a bit, full of beans about the simple fact her kid is stoked to be taken seriously and not put in a box in the corner. Am so glad to be me sometimes.

Have been trying to convince a very nice young lady (herself a NZ FOOTBALL rep, co-incidentally) to help coach sometimes. She has earned my total respect and amazement for the way she jumped in and helped me when noticing things that I struggled with. Real things. Like, with her around, I did not have to ask for my keys as she carefully watched where I put everything down. She saw my cars and instantly started making lists “for us to get both cars up to scratch”. We were an asset in each others lives, and could have been more so. I am sad she had to run away from the Wellington scene. But totally understand. She was going through some stuff which she would not share with me. She sent me a message on Facebook last night – You are one of the best and most reliable and trustworthy people I have ever met. You are so cool in so many ways, remember that. I just think sometimes you are badly unlucky. She did not even know I was feeling down. She is on the same wavelength. Promise you.

I disagree. Sure, am unlucky sometimes. I don’t think the young lady fully understands the term “I should be dead”. Many times over. A little risk management going in my favour have meant two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears and half a working brain are all still mine to own and abuse. It could be worse. I don’t know of many fourty something guys with little hair, no teeth, pimples and a “character nose” (at best) whom have had the honour of spending time with the likes of her and others.

We have football training today. In three hours. The coach is having trouble getting shoes on, so it is lucky he still has no football boots and is comfortable playing in bare feet. He has managed coaching a training session in worse shape. But not with a bunch of new players and brand new strange parents. The parents will probably think him stranger. Guess they may have a point.

If I let the kids play a game for an hour, my back will “warm up”. Am sure of it. A little worried to be fair. Last couple of days have been crap, but then I think of all the kids. I think of the parents appreciation. I think I do a good job in a hard environment with no money, no real support and no instant reward.

And then I think it is all about the football. Spine or no spine.