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.

 

EMAIL from a blog reader… And ball kids at pro footy game…

wpid-img_20141120_101621.jpg

Astounding me is the ability of service providers to tell the Government that health consumers are happier than ever (etc etc)… Apparently the consumers have a “strong” input into services and the changing of the way services are provided.

What a load of shit.

I get email from readers of my blog sometimes. And all the people I talk to on the street. I just got one such email from a guy “S” whom has contacted me before. We have all the same issues as eachother. As does other people. Mr “A”, whom really hates the services in Wellington and has talked about burning the building… Same stories. Every where. ALL THE TIME.

If only 1% of service users say “they are happier with the service” the Government will be told “more people than ever are happier with our services“. The truth is NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON WAS POSITIVE ABOUT THE SERVICE LAST YEAR. 1% NOW SAY THEY AREHAPPIER“.

This is a positive to the people that need the Governments money.

To the rest of us, it is a load of old bullocks.

Another person whom supports me and the crap I do has been writing.

Another “S” has been in Mental Health Ward again recently. He “suicided” late last week and was taken off life supports today. He is breathing for himself for first time. Send him your love. 

All these stories just don’t stop.

They keep coming. And the way the service providers deal with them has got worse.

Yet, they must show growth in this capitalist world. And that they are.

ASSHOLES.

All these stories just don’t stop.
Yet, I am the only one attempting to bring them to you?

Phoenix Wellington Football Soccer

My daughter was a ball kid at the big game on Friday night. Being parent helper was awesome too. Got a pass to go ANYWHERE in the stadium, but just stood on the field near the left hand corner flag. You can see me on tv replays filling up the back of some shots with computer game tattoo’d arms.

The best part of the night… The PHOENIX event organiser comes past and asks if the kids are behaving themselves.

YES” says me

Oh really, WHAT ABOUT YOU?” she says somewhat too encouragingly…

ME? I feel you need to give my arse a decent hard slapping

After a quick look of shock passes, “Heheheeh, you may be held to that….

Made a new friend there……… A little worried the microphones stationed only a few foot away picked it up on TV broadcast. But hey, she chuckled without ill feeling when I mentioned that possibility and we really should have swapped numbers. Although that may allow her many beaus to find ways to smash me…….

 

…….

I am having a TOTALLY SHIT DAY TODAY.

Sometimes I just feel useless. I saw less of my daughter over the school holidays than I do during normal weeks. Combinations of being arrested, other childrens’ birthday party plans and football have left me feeling lonely and useless. Some friends (girls mainly) appear to have ditched me having not replied to any contact from me… One girl I really like, for she really does think and help others, has flown the coup.

So, I go and visit Dad.

The same Dad whom always argues, always tells me I am wrong. Always told me I am ugly.

Just why I would go to my parents house for the first time in months when I need some family and love is beyond me.

What a fucken stupid thing to do.

Now am just getting through the day without doing anything stupid. When your definition of stupid has widened to include “getting out of bed” you know you’re in trouble.

Lucky I have a kid and no drug addictions. Means you just have to look positively.

Self harm is not beyond us. Any of us.

death

…………….

repco

Twenty years ago I was involved with doing some of the first live internet broadcasts out of New Zealand.

http://www.racetothesky.co.nz was one of them.

MONSTA HAS JUST CRASHED OUT OF THIS EVENT.

I should have been there. But, then again… Maybe not. Running around these events, using drugs, perving and inhaling jet fuel…

Triggers.

Better off staying at home feeling like the world sucks.

For it does.

 

 

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

Samtsirhc Yrrem

Once upon a time there was a little boy who hated Christmas carols and shopping centre festive music.

He liked titles by the likes of Joy Division, Depeche Mode, UB40 even Iron Maiden and Sex Pistols. He was born in ’73. That means music was responsible for the way this guy turned out. Bloody EMI. Click on the band names. The favourite song will load in a new window for your pleasure whilst reading this, the worlds shittest blog.

He wrote his own computer publication and signed himself off as “Sir” K..Ynot.

He was, some would claim still is, left handed.

Signed his name backwards, he did.

Arguably there is a tenuous link to reality via some far flung theory combining left handedness and learning to write using fountain pens and ink wells.

Years later the “K.Y” part of the backwards name turned out to be useful.  6d makes more sense to him than 69. 

It still does.

At age fourty there is another guy who writes crap,
puts a narcissistic “Sir” in front of his handle,
thinks he is clever and even
claims to be capable of rigging elections.

slaterCLICK ON PICTURE FOR MORE

Mr Slater (click above) is a bit of a right wing knob.

Me, being left handed, know all about the way the right suppress the lefties. They call us “reds” and organise witch hunts, wars and pick at as mentally with subtle things like calling us sinister.

Mr Slater and I agree on one thing. We both like CHARLOTTE DAWSON. I like her for all sorts of reasons. I think she may have been left handed. And adopted. There are statistics and those who think these things go hand in hand….

You know what I think about addictions and mental health. Problematic ones that is. Non problematic addictions can go take a running jump. If you need drugs to play football with your kid, or converse with people on your deathbed, then go tell CCDHBDSM and it’s head Mistress to go tie herself up some place nice and quiet. Leave a cellphone just out of reach and leave saying “if I am gone more than an hour, call me”.

After all, it is what they do to a bunch of mental health and addiction clients whom need to sort out their medications over the holiday period.

Addiction to power. Different from being a right wing knob addict. But probably similar enough to have problems getting proper diagnosis.
The Discipline Sadism Masochism for Virgins Manual (DSM-V) will sort out these discrepancies in its next edition.

I have pain.

Constant pain. Sometimes crippling. Mostly just a bloody pain.

I get tattoo’s and the pain in my back seems less for a day or two. Hell, I got these ones over the last fortnight. My birthday and Christmas presents to myself.

O for OarSum. Simply freaken Class A.

geoff_crammond

 

  • Bill Bennett has not sent me a Christmas card.
  • Cameron Slater neither.
  • Nor Clarissa Broderick, Sandy Baigent, Lucy Politini…
  • Tom Flewett would never send me a card. Clarissa will not allow him. 
  • Neither did I get a card from one of my best mates sons who died.
  • None of my mates who died since I gave up drug abuse last year.
  • But wait. No one from N.A has either.
  • In fact, no living person has given me a card or Christmas wish without me sending one first.
    This is Christmas and I can’t be fucked. 

Makes me want to go and use drugs. Hard and long. Repeatedly. Like wanking with a needle full of smack.

But the drugs will not take the pain away.

The day they find a cure for pain is the day I throw my drugs away.

http://youtu.be/985JGeGq_tc?t=34s

But then, I have another eureka moment.
Definitely re-inventing the wheel again.

you can’t fuck the pain away

Not even according to Peaches. And she should know. She looks worthy.
I can just tell.
Some girls get a shock if you say “nice arse” or
flick your tongue out and air guitar with it as you walk past.

Others have worked out you may be a little more than the average pervert builder.

Some turn and wink.
Some turn and abuse.

Some lift their bums higher with their heels and strut off,
leaving a vapour thin trail of expensive perfume and
pheromone like particles discharged by overt displays of power and authority.

Hi, I am NZ FIEND, and I am an addict. 

Hi, NZ FIEND.

Today I am going to share about getting Chlamydia in my eyes………. I may not be Brad Pitt. Nor Stalone. Nor even the rough teddy bear guy that girls want to take home and nurture. But, I am worried. Has anyone here got a “how to tell if you’re an addict” SLA style?

http://www.slaawellington.org.nz/40Q.htm

For fucksakes, bugger. Fuck me. 

Should I really jump into bed with another group of dysfunctional addicts?

Their definitions of recovery seem to be “shut up, have a totally boring life and do all you can to be a good capitalism addict.” Becoming a good “economic unit” is part of every definition of recovery from the industry. “Having a job” is listed by a lot of addicts. This just shows how capitalism has screwed you hard and fast. Shouldn’t having the skills to bring up your kids be more important. Even capitalists should see this.

The kids are going to be much better capitalists if they’re not in jail, on drugs and chasing skirt all day. Spending more time with your kids would probably even stop ADHD (along with banning TV adverts, of course….)

Capitalism addiction is the bloody worst.

You can keep it….  Your capitalism addiction.

I’ll keep mine…. Compulsion to please females pubic areas.

After all, it is not hugely problematic………..
Well, not to the global economy or capitalist markets. I will not change the price your house sells for (unless the purchaser notices the rock climbing equipment anchors in the cieling – in which case the price may actually go up…)
…………….unless you are an ex-partner who kicked me out for giving other ladies orgasms. (sorry)

Unless you are the girls whom I want nothing to do with (other than your sex, of course) as you all give me headaches telling me shit. (sorry)

Unless you are the person whom is so damn straight you got a surprise and crashed when you saw a couple having sex on top of the entrance to the main motorway tunnel. (sorry)

If you’re the policewoman whom complained about a lady with long blonde hair bobbing up and down in front of my waist whilst standing in front of five thousand people at a New Years gig… (sorry you were ten metres below us and couldn’t join in…)

I owe all of you people a great deal of amends.

I owe you.
Would that be cash, credit card or oral?

 

Well, that is Christmas wasted. One step at a time. Entirely fucking backwards.

 

 

My bloody daughter….

My bloody daughter.

So proud.

We got two identical meccano style construction toys last year so she has just convinced me to wrap one up and give it away.

But not to any one Tom, Dick nor Harry.

 

She is to give to the kid at her school who kicked her football away, stole her boots and threw her shoes over a power line.

The kid has a few problems. My offspring thinks the teachers can be mean to him and he doesn’t feel included all the time. a bunch of other shit came up, but I am proud that my daughter seems to know more about dis association, dopamine deficits and healthy child development than the teachers or even half the academics and medical professionals….

We are going to invite the little shit to play footy with us over holidays.

Christmas spirit of giving rich people plastic shit made by slaves?
fuck that

image

But still… The little cow didn’t get her Dad a birthday present. Was on Sat 13th.

You know what… Real present is having a kid like this… and giving her back to her Mum late Sunday so as to have a bunch of interestingly sceptik-all adult fun later.

Something to be said for not having kid all the time after all.

Is sex better than drugs?

Self medicating with sex would probably cause less concern at the CCDHB ADDICT DISSERVICES… It may even be encouraged. 

CCDHBDSM anyone?

Journo-lism students. Changing the world one step at a time without even realising it.

Journalism. Back in the day it was a force in the world. Fourth Estate and all that. Judging by a lot of the crap produced in “professional” print publications nowadays you really have to wonder.

There is hope.

The world is changing.
Too slowly mind you, but changing nonethebloodyless.

Have been interviewed by many students over the years – usually people doing masters or other thesis work involved with addiction, mental health, criminality and even one or two high ranking police officers interested in things other than pinning my innocent ass to the wall and tazering it senseless.. Have been interviewed by people with long lists of letters after their names that would indicate they have had much better life plans than my goodself. (And probably better social graces and backing from Daddy’s trust fund……..!!!)

 

This blog is kind of stupid. It may not even qualify as a “blog” any longer.

This time last year I spent four hours writing a piece on being left handed. Thinking that maybe “us lefties” were more likely to be ADHD and creative resulted in many thousands of words spilling forth. Then it got titled (without much forethought, and more than a little sarcastically) “LEFT HANDEDNESS – A CURSE FROM THE DEVIL”. Although not having read it since writing it, I remember it as a ground breaking and brilliant example of new philosophy.

Someone on the street six months later told me that coats of arms have a “good” side and a “bad” side. GOOD is RIGHT. LEFT is BAD. Fuck me, what did you say?

I looked it up further. Turns out bloody PLATO and all those Greek and Latin speaking kiddy molesters beat me to it. The origin of the coat of arms thing comes from Latin – “SINISTER” was “LEFT” basically.

To this day you are “CORRECT” if you are “RIGHT”. Even the term “cack – handed” has sinister connotations….

cack-handed (ˌkækˈhændɪd)

adj

1. left-handed
2. clumsy
[from dialect cack excrement, from the fact that clumsy people usually make a mess; via Middle Low German or Middle Dutch from Latin cacāre to defecate]
In other words, you would wipe your ASS with your CACK hand. Work it out for yourself rather than bothering to argue)

sinister

 

So, this blog is just awesome. F’ing brilliant waste of bandwidth. Re-Inventing the wheel (two thousand years after the fact) has become common. It’s probably part of the reason why there has been so few posts as of late. Am sick of it. Even my HIGHER POWER being WAVELENGTHS and people on the same frequency of wavelength that I spent weeks thinking about…. After spending weeks trashing Tom Cruise, Scientology, Technology, every church in the known universe, and writing off DAN BROWN’s Di Vinci code child puzzles…. I come up with PEOPLE ON SAME WAVELENGTH as a god. But then that sounds boring. So it gets converted into other languages until a nice acronym is found using something from the middle east…. And then. Shit.  TESLA and EINSTEIN,. Fuck you TESLA and EINSTEIN. Unreal. You had similar details and diagrams last century or two? Can’t someone just let me have one original thought without claiming it was done years ago? Bastards, the lot of you.

There is the discovery that I was addicted to ZOPICLONE faster and with more detrimental effects than normal benzo’s such as halcion or valium. Many hours of thinking and processes later I presented my findings to the world by swearing a lot and calling Doctors fuck-wits for prescribing it. After telling people on the street about my experiences for years, one or two of the more astute actually did look it up themselves… And yes, not only was the theory correct, but six months later there are a few people admitting they thought I was full of shit but were too polite to tell me to shut the hell up. They found the theory correct. All by themselves. Many more examples available on request.

OMG OMG OMG OMG OH MY GOD
A NEW THOUGHT
ON BOATS RED IS PORT AND GREEN IS STAR-BORED.
Red may mean “returning to port – too useless” and GREEN “we are off Star-Bound… Exploring.
I think I think too much. I am not even going to look this up. EVER.
Please feel free to do so on your own time. But please don’t contact me with the answer.
Kind regards….

The world is changing. Just not fast enough.

The mainstream media is slowly but surely looking at underlying causes and issues of life.

Three pages in the local Saturday rag were dedicated to PORN and SEX amongst consenting couples. They had a good graffick, although the article was fluff. The graffick showed DOPAMINE. Not titties. No psychiatrist from the Wellington Addiction Service with a giant strap on dildo ready to penetrate addicts. Not even a group having soft porn sex.

No. Just a picture of DOPAMINE and it’s chemical structure.

This is amazing.

DOPAMINE is a good side effect of AMPHETAMINE usage.  It is why they give ADHD people really good pharmacy grade crystal meth. Dopamine is used by the front right lobe bit of your noggin to regulate the impulses sent from one of the very first bits of brain to ever work. Basically, let us say you have a fright. You have a FIGHT or FLIGHT response. You have a split second to think about it. Some of us don’t think too much at all. We just act.

DOPAMINE also has a lot to do with LOVE or REWARD. Food, really good sex, really bad sex, any sex, thinking you might get sex… These feelings are really DOPAMINE hitting that big marshmellow in your skull.

Again, rather than argue with me, just look it up and compare notes amongst yourself quietly in your own time…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dopamine is a good start.

So, changing the world. One step at a time. 11 to go according to William and his big book.

I do my part constantly. I tell everyone whom will listen all about it. Constantly. I don’t break for breathing. Pauses in conversation. I don’t stop when knocked out and being operated on. The surgreons probably notice an hour or two gap in my monologue, but to me it is seamless.

Did you really trip over and hurt yourself if no one was there to witness it?

Hah hah bloody hah.

But, even I am sick of repeating stuff to addiction, medical, government types. And I don’t get sick easily.

JOURNALISM STUDENTS however. Different breed.

Sometimes there are people who have so little regard for their personal sanity that they email me via this insanely popular WordPress Blog. (Note to self – remember to use LOL’s and emoticons more regularly…)

A particularly courages Journalism student from Auckland went to all the trouble of going to Government OFFICIAL INFORMATION ACT (maybe she used the guide written on this blog!!! hahahaha) to get some information regarding the “OPIOID TREATMENT SERVICE” in New Zealand. OTS (shitty acronym, maybe they should have tried another language, although Bosnian doesn’t work — opijata službe tretmana results in OST – keep trying on your own time and get back to me….) is not OTS.

The first thing the student asked was lost as she mentioned OTD. Queue diatribe – “OTS is crap. There is no SERVICE and very little TREATMENT. OMD would work better. Opiate Maintenance DisService.”

After five minutes on the phone it was time for her to go and have a valium, a cranium massage and a long lay down in a sensory deprivation tank.

To her, and most earthlings, it was probably an hour.

Don’t know who invented time scales, but the Freemasons probably had nothing to do with it. Has someone already invented, or theorised, that time is relative?

Ass.

Over the five minutes I spent talking like a horse race announcer with a few too many coffee’s in his system, she learnt that addicts are “under performing economic units” with little hope of positive prognosis. We are given a concrete box to live in and a colour tv to watch. Governments the world over have big rugs to sweep problems under.

Governments will start valuing their countries differently. Citizens “HAPPY AVERAGE PERSON POPULATION INDEX” (HAPPI) rather than “GROSS DOMESTIC PRODUCT” (GDP) will become more economically responsible. A country with a good HAPPI index will automatically produce a much better GROSS PRODUCT. And more of them.

 

Did I mention my theories on how CAPITALISM will eventually fall into SOCIALISM as the MARKETS dominate governments and “CONSUMER WATCHDOGS” that prevent monopolies fail? Once you have many big monopolies (Vodafone, CBS, Sony and Ford, along with a few Freemason trust funds) calling the shots, the people have to step in and regulate the monopolies. If these corporations all had a proper and concrete understanding of corporate responsibility there would be no need for central government.

If an employees Mum was ill, the corporation would pay for her hospital bed.

If a road needed fixing so the employees could get to work, the corporation would fix it (with their own bulldozers and employees more than likely. You should see what CBS owns. Go look it up, on your own time.)

World markets and globalisation are at the very heart of the worlds addiction and disassociation (dislocation) epidemic. Gangs, lost souls, attention seeking via wrong methods……. All have a root in the degrading shit that makes up the soil of capitalism. 

AGAIN – Look it all up. BRUCE k ALEXANDER is a good place to start….
There are now copies in OTAGO medical research labs library, MASSEY universities, WELLINGTON PUBLIC…. yes folks – you can change the world. Importing one book at a time…

This poor journalism lass coped well. I have a sneaky suspicion she may have even agreed on some points.

She rang to discuss methadone treatments. She learnt that methadone treatments are shit. But, funny enough, drug addiction is shit too.

Being addicted to capitalism and trading in your wife for the receptionist, spending no time with your kids as you are too busy paying off the nannies new BMW X5… Well, I say give these capitalists some drugs and sell all their houses.

They will then ensure their kids get enough time to develop properly and avoid the pitfalls of the last fifty years of humanity. Lucky kids.

All great societies collapse eventually. Otherwise we would all be running around in white tunics saluting centurions on every second street corner.

Our society of trousers, miniskirts and saluting Vodafone 4G with our I-Phones on every second street corner may self implode in one great big drug fuelled binge. America may have to prostitute it’s own sweet fanny off to pay it’s drug debts to the East.

NZ will learn to speak mandarin in next to no time. Winston Peters will set up private charter schools for that exact purpose. 

And as for the Third Reich falling over… Adolf Hitler wasn’t on crystal meth day and night. No way. Hell no.

IT’S GOOD TO BE BACK

Sorry about writing another 2000 words in the space of two hours. Maybe I should find some dopamine, slow down a little and edit this work. Maybe I should at least research it a bit and put in some APA references. Maybe I should just shut up and turn the heater on, for it is freezing. I just know some of you journalist types will read this and not make sense of some bits. Some of the doctors and researchers who read this will never see the interesting bits as there is far too much garbage. I, myself, will not read it, preferring to maintain a fragile self esteem intact. I am one of the worlds best writers. And that is that. So there.

Actually am sorry to have taken so much time away from this sort of work. Although it may all be relative. 

A relatively good thing.

And we have a new RIGHT Government with a cack handed Prime Minster.

That really is sinister.

Stuff the world. I am over it.

The world sucks. Some would call it gravity. I call it bullshit. Maybe of the worst interfering capitalist god like kind.

“They” took me off Ritalin and replaced it with Concerta. This sucks. This is bullshit.

I have been doing “okay” on Ritalin. 40mg slow release and 10mg fast release for later in the day. “They” now have me on Concerta and.. Well.. it has screwed me around already.

I had things to do the other night. Very important things. I could not do them as….

ROSIE EDWARDS (under the guise of “they”) issued me 27mg of Concerta a day to replace 40mg of slow and 10mg of fast Ritalin a day. For fucksakes.

When it didn’t work (hardly any surprises there!) she said I should take twice the amount.

So I took two pills rather than one each morning. They wore off by mid afternoon (as predicted) and left me with the defective period from mid afternoon until sleep.

Sleep has always been an issue for me. Along with the evening time. This was the reason for getting 10mg fast acting to take in the evening. Seems that, totally conveniently for “them”, they have forgotten I actually have a genuine need for this shit and am now just a junky shit head trying to score free drugs. Assholes, the lot of them. Whomever “they” are.

I am writing this in the evening.

Just in case you can’t tell, dear reader – I feel really annoyed.

I got no sleep last night to speak of. Brain was going a million miles an hour.

Can I do this? Can I do that? I should have done this. I should have done that. What does this mean? What does that mean?
All whilst listening to two songs and three different versions of my own attempts at meditation and “counting sheep to sleep”.

FARRRKJKKKKK!

I was supposed to be out doing something for most of the night… With someone. This meeting took a long time to set up, yet because of this medication regime change, I was not feeling up to it. I cancelled. I will not be invited back to this event or group again. I promise you. And that pisses me off.

This evening I coached twenty children to play football. It was horrible. Not enjoyable for me. Nor for them. Am more worried about them. 

Taking on my kids football team was a huge risk. If I stuff it up my relationship with my daughter could be in serious trouble. It felt right at the time. Now, after tonights mess, I am close to quitting. Fuck you Rosie.

Yesterday I went back to causing fights when people cut me off in their cars. Fuck you Rosie.

And you know what?
When I told Rosie I was in trouble, she told me to take double and asked who my pharmacist was.
ROSIE EDWARDS then did not bother to tell the pharmacist she had told me to take double.

THEREFORE I SIMPLY RAN OUT OF CONCERTA or RITALIN AND HAD NO AVENUE TO GET ANY MORE.

Rosie Edwards would not answer her phone (due to “them” maybe?)… You know me. Clever cunt sometimes. I went to the Alcohol and Addict DisServices building in Newtown. I used their phone to ring Rosie. She answered on the first ring. She probably thought it was “them” ringing. Clever prick, me.

The pharmacist told me that ROSIE EDWARDS had told them it was “too late to give me a dose” as it was 3pm. But I was supposed to be up until 1am. ROSIE EDWARDS did not even talk to me to see what my plans were… She (and them) had no idea I had waited until that time to take my dose ON FUCKEN PURPOSE!!!!!!!!!!

This resulted in me failing to live my life as planned. There was no way I could have performed and been happy doing it in this situation.

They (via Rosie Edwards) then suggest that my annoyance at being fucked around (by them) is entirely due to me being addicted and drug seeking.

Over the last six months or so of Ritalin the mother of my daughter (whom I have been arguing with for a whole DECADE) is now pleased and happy to see me. The last six months have seen a lot of good progress.

In the four days since being taken off Ritilan and put on Concerta (against my wishes) I have argued, lost friends and feel as though the football coaching thing is a disaster.

IF YOU BREAK YOUR LEG YOU GET TREATMENT.

If I break mine, they look for DRUG SEEKING BEHAVIOURS.

Fuck them

And fuck you Rosie Edwards. I offered you (them) a hair sample, a piss test, I offered for you to look at my entire body for needle marks or the like. You (representing “them) have not taken me up on this. Our ONE HOUR MEETING to discuss my “CURRENT MENTAL HEALTH CONCERNS” was over in eighteen minutes (yes, I did time it) and any time I tried to say anything outside of “Concerta please, yes thank you” Rosie simply showed she had no interest. Well done Rosie. “They” will be very proud of you. Well fuck them Rosie. Look at me. Talk to me. Find out who I am. Find out what I need. Maybe look at helping me help myself? Stop putting me in a stupid meaningless box that governs my own health plan. You are so busy trying to call me an addict and a drug seeker and drug user that you don’t even see me for who I am.

Rosie Edwards (p.p. for “them”) is worried about me being addicted to Ritalin. Well, FUCK – If you broke a runners leg so they couldn’t run… And then interview them a day later – I promise you – the lactic acid, the stress, the lack of release of all sorts of brain chemicals and body functions….. The runner will be spewing. The runner will be not himself. The runner is, ADDICTED TO RUNNING.

This does not mean you must break his leg to stop him from running.

And yes. I am spewing. “They” (using the good Doctor Rosie Edwards) have bloody well cost me. And almost cost me a lot.

Rosie was born and brought up in New Zealand. She trained as a doctor at Otago University, working in Rotorua before moving to Wellington. She completed her training as a psychiatrist in Wellington and continued working for Capital and Coast District Health Board as a consultant forensic psychiatrist with Te Korowai-WhÄriki. Also, Rosie has worked in Australia as a general adult psychiatrist in a private hospital and for the newly established Justice Health Service for New South Wales until she returned to Wellington in 2007.  In May 2008, Rosie was appointed as Clinical Leader for the General Adult Mental Health Service . This latest role has allowed her to use her enthusiasm and interest for the way services are delivered and to look at how services can be improved. Rosie works in partnership with Operations Leaders and reports to the C&CDHB MHD Executive Director (Clinical).
—- From the Health Boards on Webshite – Click and weep 

 

CLICK

 

Hell, I even showed you, ROSIE (pp “them) my new tattoo’s…

Surely this shows I am entirely sane and you should write me some double uo globe class A heroin. And a lot of cocaine. I know you have a big stash Rosie. It’s about the only answer I can think of for the behaviours you exhibit. Some check Rosie (and them) for massive cocaine addiction problems. Stat.

PONG, as first created sixty years ago, but made into playable and reproductive capable units by Atari within months of my birth....  http://www.classicgamesarcade.com/games/pong.swf   Atari Asteroids from 1979 - http://www.shockinglyfun.com/game_swf/asteroids.swf   To go with the other games on left arm - Space Invaders ( http://www.webworksllc.com/games/Invaders.cfm  ) and The Great Escape barbed wire — with Asteroids and Atari Pong

PONG, as first created sixty years ago, but made into playable and reproductive capable units by Atari within months of my birth….
http://www.classicgamesarcade.com/games/pong.swf
Atari Asteroids from 1979 – http://www.shockinglyfun.com/game_swf/asteroids.swf
To go with the other games on left arm – Space Invaders ( http://www.webworksllc.com/games/Invaders.cfm ) and The Great Escape barbed wire from 1986 ZX Spectrum game

Space Invaders tattoo